“You’ll get back the way you came,” the officer shouted. “You can all walk!”
In his mind, he saw his Proud One struggling through the snow and ice on the return trip. He wasn’t certain she could survive that. “Many of the women and old ones will not live if they are forced to travel in this weather,” he argued. “Many of them will die.”
“That is not my problem.” The officer shrugged. “I will follow my orders.”
Dull Knife’s stoic face did not change. “We will not go. If we are to die anyway, we might as well die here in our northern country that we love.”
“By damn, you will do what I say!” the captain roared, then turned and stalked off in his shiny boots. The Indians stared after him a long moment.
“We will not go,” Dull Knife said with a note of finality to the others.
The others nodded agreement and started back to the barracks. Two Arrows stared after them a long moment, sick to his very soul. More than anything, he had wanted to live free and proud, his woman by his side. If the long trip back through this terrible cold didn’t kill most of the people, the hot, dry country of the Indian Territory would finish the job. He could not allow that to happen to the Proud One; he loved her too much, enough to think clearly about what was best for her.
That night, he prayed to the great god for guidance while holding his woman in his arms.
“Is it true, Two Arrows, are we really being sent back?”
“So they say; but perhaps the decision will change.”
She stroked his face. “You try to remain hopeful for me, so I won’t worry.”
“As ill as you’ve been lately, I doubt you could survive that trip twice.”
“I can make it,” she said, her voice stubborn. “As long as we are together, nothing else matters.”
The moonlight streaming through the window revealed just how tired and fragile the Proud One really was. He would not put her through that ordeal only to lose her in the cold and snow. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “No matter what,” he said, “know that I loved you more than life itself.”
“Why do you talk like that?” she whispered. “We will both survive this, and, somehow, we’ll be happy, even if we do have to live near Fort Reno.”
He held her very close and made gentle, tender love to her because he had already made his decision about what he was going to do. The two choices open to the Cheyenne were terrible ones: either they could fight and die here resisting the order, or they could go back on that long fifteen-hundred-mile walk. Either way, Proud One would probably either be killed or sicken and die. Two Arrows made his decision; he would save her, even if he must lose her.
The next morning, he sought out Muldoon when no one else was around to see him talking to the soldier. “Muldoon, about Captain Krueger, he is coming here?”
The old Irishman nodded, his look puzzled.
“Did he love the white girl very much?”
Muldoon nodded. “He always said he loved her more than any man could. Why—?”
“She—she’s alive.” He loved her more than David Krueger ever could, he was certain of it.
“What? I don’t understand—”
“Just listen.” Two Arrows lowered his voice. “She is in this camp dressed as a Cheyenne woman, my woman.”
Muldoon’s blue eyes widened. “If this is some kind of a terrible joke—”
“I tell you she is here,” Two Arrows insisted. “I have kept her away from you so you wouldn’t recognize her.”
“You’ve been holdin’ her prisoner—?”
“Yes,” Two Arrows lied. “She’s been my prisoner, and she wants to return to Captain Krueger.”
The other looked baffled as he blew on his hands in the cold and rubbed them together. “If she’s been a prisoner, she’s had plenty of chances to approach any of us in the past several months and ask for help, why—?”
“Muldoon, don’t ask anything you don’t really want to know.”
“She’s in love with you,” Muldoon said suddenly, understanding in his pale eyes, “and she doesn’t know you’re doing this.”
“She’s not to know we talked.” Two Arrows swallowed hard. “I—I want her to be safe.”
“But the others,” Muldoon said sadly, “ ’tis a sinful thing to force little ones like Grasshopper and her old grandmother to walk all that way in the cold.”
He did not dispute that. He would save them all if he could, but he only knew how to save one. “The Proud One has become a Cheyenne in her heart, but I cannot let her die, and I know Captain Krueger loves her.”
“Proud One?”
“Glory,” Two Arrows said. “I gave her her Indian name.”
Muldoon smiled slowly. “ ’Tis fitting. What would you have me do?”
He sighed and almost changed his mind, then he thought of how much she meant to him and knew he was willing to make any sacrifice that would protect her. “I—I want you to send Captain Krueger a wire, tell him she’s here, so he’ll come immediately.”
“But he’ll kill you on sight!” the old Irishman protested. “And—”
“I’ll take that chance, if only he’ll take Glory away from here, marry her, take care of her.”
Muldoon looked at him a long moment. “You must love the lass very, very much.”
For a moment, Two Arrows could not answer; he only nodded. “More than I have words to tell. She must not know I’ve done this; she won’t understand. Once she’s away from me, the captain can win her love again. She belongs with him, but she doesn’t realize it.”
“I see.” Muldoon nodded. “I know the telegrapher here; I can trust him.”
“You alone I trust,” Two Arrows warned. “The soldiers must not realize who she is. If word gets out before Krueger arrives, they will take her out of the barracks. There is no telling how soldiers would treat a white woman who had chosen to stay with the Indians.”
Muldoon didn’t answer. They both knew drunken soldiers might consider Glory Halstead fair game for any man who wanted her. He held out his hand very slowly, and Two Arrows shook it. “Two Arrows, there’s something that’s been bothering my conscience, something I did back at Fort Reno.”
“Yes?”
“ ’Twas me that got you whipped,” Muldoon admitted, coloring with shame. “I told the officer about you grabbin’ her horse’s reins; because, you see, I feared for her at your hands. I had seen the expression on your face when you looked at her.”
Two Arrows nodded. “Deep in my heart, I don’t think I ever believed she did that; she was too proud to beg any man’s help.”
“Aye, she’s proud, all right; that’s what always made her so different from other women I’ve known, proud and brave, too. I often wondered if she was Irish?”
Two Arrows stared at him, startled, and in that moment, he realized that Muldoon was in love with her, too, and wondered if the old soldier even realized it himself?
Muldoon cleared his throat awkwardly. “Aye, I’ll send the wire. Maybe I can’t save them all, but by God, I’ll help you save her.”
“Do it right away before I change my mind or Captain Wessells can act on his orders,” Two Arrows said. “And thanks, Muldoon.”
They shook hands solemnly again before Two Arrows walked away. What he didn’t tell Muldoon was that the Cheyenne had already made their choice. He wanted to get Proud One out of harm’s way—because rather than return to Indian Territory, the Cheyenne had decided to stand their ground, fight and die here!
Twenty
“I’ll get it!” David hurried to the door when he heard the bell ring. He was expecting a letter that he’d been reassigned to the West, and he wanted to present it gently to his father, hoping perhaps he could still avoid a confrontation. All these years, David had hungered for his father’s approval, and yet, he was going against Fritz Krueger’s wishes by asking for a post in Nebraska. He had mixed feelings about that.
He opened the door to a lanky boy delivering tw
o telegrams, one telling he was being reassigned to Fort Robinson. He sighed with relief and shut the door, starting to open the other as the colonel came down the stairs.
“Who was at the door?”
“It was a telegram, Father,” David took a deep breath, “with my assignment.”
“Ah, good! You’ll like Washington!” The old man rubbed his hands together briskly with satisfaction. “Now, the next thing is out of all these girls you’ve met, to find you—”
“We’ve—we’ve got something more important to discuss,” David stammered, annoyed with himself for feeling like a small child about to brave his father’s wrath over a new toy. “Why don’t we go into the library and talk about this?”
“All right.” They went into the library, the old man beaming as he poured himself a whiskey. “This calls for a celebration.”
“None for me,” David said, wondering how to begin. He had avoided confrontations all his life, trying to please the old man. He stuffed the telegrams in his coat and took out his pipe. Until he filled and lit it, he hadn’t realized his hands were trembling. “Father, you know I wouldn’t have much chance for heroic actions in Washington that might get me more medals and commendations.”
“That’s true,” the old man said, sipping his whiskey. “Commendations do get a soldier noticed.”
David tried to stop his hands from shaking as he took a deep puff of smoke and stared out at the snowy scene. Did he really want to buck his father? He’d only done so twice in his life; once when he’d gone off to Texas, and later, when he’d saved the colt his father wanted to destroy. “Perhaps we might reconsider my being assigned to the West for that reason.”
“No,” the older man shook his white head and sipped his whiskey, “that’s not what I want for you at all, David.”
He took a deep breath. “Father, do you ever think about what I want?”
“What a silly question! I want what’s best for you; so what I want is what you want, too.”
He couldn’t decide what to say next. This was not going to work out; he could not reason with the stubborn old man. David thought about the other telegram in his pocket, the one he had not yet opened. It probably announced that General Carter was doing his father a favor and might have a post available for David in Washington. All that was left was to get his horses rerouted to Washington instead.
Fritz Krueger smiled with satisfaction. “It is going to be a great new year. I am glad we agree on everything, David.”
Agree? He hadn’t heard a word David said; no, not in thirty-five years. With a sigh, he laid his pipe in the ashtray and reached into his pocket for the other telegram while hating himself for being such a gutless coward. He opened the telegram and read it, then reread it, his mouth slowly opening in speechless amazement.
“David, what is it?”
David stared at the words: Glory Halstead alive. Stop. Come at once to Fort Robinson. Stop. Signed Sergeant Michael Muldoon.
“She—she’s alive!” No, it couldn’t be, how—? But then he cared nothing for logic or anything else, he stood up shouting, “She’s alive, Muldoon says she’s alive!”
“Who?” His father looked puzzled but annoyed that something seemed about to interrupt his well-laid plans.
“Glory! Glory Halstead!” Maybe it was a mistake; no, Muldoon would be careful about contacting him unless he knew for certain. A thousand questions came to his mind, but he was too excited to do anything but stare at the paper and blink, not certain whether to laugh or cry.
“Halstead? I don’t remember meeting—?”
“Father, don’t you remember I told you I was in love and wanted to bring her home to meet you? Oh, there’s so much to do! I’ve got to get a train ticket—”
“David, what on earth are you talking about?”
“I thought she was dead, but she’s turned up alive somehow,” David babbled. “I’ve got to go to Fort Robinson.” He strode to the door and yelled at the maid, “Sophie, please find Jeeves for me, I’ve got to send him to the train station for a ticket, and then I’ll need some help packing. Oh, be sure and get that fur coat in the box upstairs!”
“David, you can’t just run off like this.” The colonel set down his glass.
“I’m sorry, Father, but I’ve got to get to her, and when I reach the fort, I’m going to marry her.”
“But who are her parents? What’s her background? I don’t know if I can approve—”
“Father.” David turned and faced him, took a deep breath. If he didn’t take charge of his own life now and permanently, he never would. “I’m a grown man, I don’t need your approval to get married. If I’m getting a second chance, I’m damned well going to take it!”
The old man blinked. His mouth opened, then closed again as if he didn’t believe what he was hearing. “Maybe once I met her and her family, I might—”
“I doubt it, Father.” David shrugged. “You see, she’s divorced.”
“Divorced! David, you can’t be serious!”
“I couldn’t be more serious,” David said and suddenly, he didn’t care what his father thought anymore, it was like having a sack of iron lifted from his shoulders. “She’s divorced, and I know little of her background, but I love her, and nothing else matters.” He started out of the room, heading for the stairs to gather up his things.
His father limped behind him. “David, think what a scandal marrying a divorced woman would be; it will wreck your military career!”
“Would you believe I don’t care?” David threw over his shoulder as he started up the stairs to pack.
“So you’ll disappoint me again, will you?” the colonel raged, right behind him.
David paused and turned on the landing. “Father, I have always disappointed you; nothing I ever did was good enough. I wasn’t as handsome as William, I wasn’t as smart as Joe. You’ve been angry all these years that they died and I lived.”
“How dare you say that when you got your younger brother killed along with your sweet wife—”
“Father, stop laying guilt on me; I won’t take it anymore!” David was shouting now. “If I had been in Texas instead of off fighting in the War to please you, I might have saved them both.”
“The War was a noble cause, your older brother died bravely—”
“It was a waste; a total waste of William’s life. I was never cut out to be a soldier, I told you that, but you wouldn’t listen. You’ve never listened, and you’ve never loved me! Like that colt, you wouldn’t accept flaws in man or beast!”
“You are out of your mind!” his father shouted up at him. “I will disown you if you do this, David!”
David paused at the top of the stairs and turned around, looking at him a long moment. “Your money and this property mean nothing to me, but I would like your blessing, Father, on my forthcoming marriage and whatever I choose to do with my life from now on.”
“You can never make it up to me for William’s and Joseph’s deaths!” The angry old man was shouting at him, his face a furious red.
“I know that, Father.” David’s voice was suddenly soft and soothing. “I am sorry, but I didn’t kill them, and I’m so tired of feeling guilty for being alive.”
“How dare you speak to me like that!” Fritz Krueger was raging. “William and Joseph would never—”
“I am not William or Joe; and that’s the trouble, isn’t it? I’m David, poor, bungling, not handsome, disappointing David.” He felt suddenly free, and it was a good feeling. “Father, I hope someday, when you think this over, we can start again and maybe have some kind of relationship, but for now, I’ve got a train to catch!”
His father stood wordless, staring up at him as if he could not quite believe what had just happened.
David turned and raced up the stairs, his heart pounding with excitement. Glory! He wasn’t going to ask any questions, and nothing mattered to him but getting her back safely. His revenge against Two Arrows for kidnapping her could wait. As soon as Da
vid could get to Nebraska, they would be married, with old Muldoon as his best man and the devil take the hindmost!
It was freezing cold, the temperature continuing to drop, as Captain Wessells called a meeting of the Indian leaders in his office. Two Arrows came and Muldoon was there, but this time, the officer did not do the good-mannered thing and offer coffee or tobacco. There was no ceremony at all.
“I’m sorry,” he snapped, “but I’ve heard from Washington, and they say you must be sent back to Indian Territory.” He waved the paper in their faces.
There was a murmur of disappointment and disapproval from the Indians.
Two Arrows cleared his throat. “How many weeks before—?”
“Ja, immediately,” the captain said, pulling at his goatee.
Even the soldiers in the room gasped.
For a long moment, Two Arrows tried to deal with the reality of the words as others translated for the old ones. “Immediately?” Two Arrows asked. “But the temperature is below zero out there and—”
“Nein, that is not my problem.” The officer shrugged, staring down at his shiny boots. “I tried to convince Washington they should wait for spring, but they say the trip should begin now.”
“This is loco.” Two Arrows leaned on the desk, glaring at him. “Most of these people will freeze to death in this weather if you make them walk all the way back to Fort Reno!”
“Maybe we can get a few wagons,” the officer offered, “or maybe not. Anyway, Dull Knife, you must go back to the barracks and tell your people. By tomorrow—”
“But there’s even more snow coming,” Two Arrows protested. “It is madness and murder to put children and old ones out on the trail in this weather.”
“Maybe that’s the idea,” someone whispered, and it sounded like Muldoon.
“Ach! I heard that!” the captain roared. “Who said that? I’ll put him on report!”
No one said anything, but Two Arrows looked over at Muldoon’s ruddy face, and saw the disapproval there. Time. Time was the Cheyenne’s enemy; if they only had more time to convince Washington, time until the weather warmed, time until they could escape.
Cheyenne Song Page 29