While four of the men went off to stand guard duty after supper, Rand brought out the harmonicas. The plaintive notes of “Home Sweet Home” mingled with the crackle of the fire and the howl of some animal in the hills to their left.
“What’s that?” Emmie knew her voice was too shrill when several of the soldiers snickered and Joel grinned.
“It’s just a pack of coyotes,” Isaac said. “They’re more scared of you than you are of them.”
Emmie shivered at another howl. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” she said shakily.
Rand played a couple of hymns and the men joined in song. Rooster had a surprisingly deep bass voice and Isaac sang tenor. But it had been a long day on the trail, and they were all yawning so Rand sent them all off to find their bedrolls twenty minutes later.
As Emmie crawled beneath her own blanket, she wondered about this life she found herself in. The unknown was so scary, but it was exhilarating, too. Was it perhaps her father’s wanderlust blood coming to the fore? She’d always been content to stay close to hearth and home and had never dreamed she’d find herself in some wild land with rampaging coyotes and hostile savages. Maybe her father would finally be proud of her if he could see her now, she thought, snuggling deeper into the covers. Maybe he would even finally love her in spite of the fact that she wasn’t a son. But to be honest, he hadn’t had much use for Ben or Labe, either. All he’d ever cared about was his whiskey. He was long buried anyway, so there was no use in thinking about it. She would just concentrate on the future.
four
The landscape grew more wild and untamed as the procession turned north and trekked up toward Fort Phil Kearny. The mountains loomed in the distance, their purple peaks blending into the deep azure sky. Game flourished everywhere, and Rand had no trouble finding crack shots who could provide fresh meat to supplement the mess chest fare. The rest of the section he ordered to keep close together as they all kept a sharp lookout for Indians.
E. B. Taylor had attempted to negotiate a constructive peace treaty in May 1866, but Red Cloud had angrily stomped out when Colonel Carrington showed up to establish three new forts in the last of the Sioux hunting grounds. Red Cloud objected that the army would be setting up forts without waiting for the agreement from the Indians to allow troops to patrol the Bozeman Trail. These last three months had been tense, with numerous skirmishes between soldiers and Indians. Red Cloud was said to be massing together not just Sioux but Cheyenne and Arapaho to fight the invasion of bluecoats. Along this very trail just a month earlier, three soldiers had been killed and several others wounded during an ambush, Rand told them. So he preached constant vigilance and caution.
If the girls had been allowed to travel on horseback instead of riding the lurching ambulance, they would have enjoyed the trip immensely. As it was, they alternated between enduring the jolting ride and getting out and walking along the dusty trail. Emmie longed for a brief respite, just long enough to take a bath when they crossed a stream or occasionally glimpsed the Powder River.
The nights were cool and clear. Once Isaac pointed out a pack of timber wolves on a bluff overlooking the camp. He assured the girls they were safe from attack, but Emmie hadn’t slept well that night. She dreamed of wolves surrounding her with red eyes and slavering fangs before being driven off by Isaac. He disturbed her dreams way too often.
Sarah worried her, too. Most mornings Emmie held the cracked tin bowl while Sarah was sick. By ten o’clock her friend was usually well enough to walk alongside the ambulance and laugh and joke with the men. But she grew paler and her laughter seemed forced by the fifth day.
“Have you noticed how poorly Sarah looks?” she asked Rand finally while Sarah was inside napping one afternoon.
He nodded, his brow crinkling with worry. “There’s a post surgeon at Fort Phil Kearny. It’s only another three days away or so. I just hope she can hold on. I’ve been thinking we might camp here an extra day. The horses could do with the rest, too.”
“I think it might help if you thought it would be safe,” she said. “She keeps pushing herself so. Today is the first time she’s agreed to take a nap. A bath in the river might be nice, too.”
Rand nodded slowly. “I’m anxious to get to the fort. The chance of meeting up with hostiles is pretty high, but I don’t want Sarah to lose the baby. We’ll just have to risk it. I’ll post extra sentries and string up some blankets for privacy while you girls take a bath. I could use a bath and a shave myself.” He rubbed his grizzled cheeks with a rueful grin.
A bath! Emmie almost skipped as she hurried to tell Sarah. Her friend was braiding her long red-gold hair when Emmie peeked in.
“You should have woken me,” she said with a reproachful look. “I’ve been asleep for over two hours.”
“You needed it. And guess what?” Emmie climbed in beside Sarah. “We’re going to stop beside the creek for an extra day to rest up and bathe.”
Sarah brightened immediately, a little pink rushing to her pale cheeks. “Oh, lovely. I was just feeling sorry for myself before you came. Missing home and Papa. Aren’t I a silly goose?” She stood up as she thrust the last pin into place. “I’m so glad you’re here, Emmie. I could not have endured this trip alone.”
Emmie laughed self-consciously. “I’m just grateful I had somewhere to go when Monroe was killed.” As she hugged her friend, she tried to push away the guilt she felt over not being completely honest. Someday the truth would have to be told, but not now. That was another good thing about being transferred to the remote fort. The mail hadn’t been able to get through for over a month. With luck, by the time it did, everything would have died down in Indiana, and Margaret wouldn’t mention her disgrace to Sarah.
The afternoon sun still blazed by the time they wandered down to the stream to find Rand, but the air was brisk. True to his word, he’d rigged up a rope with blankets around a lovely pool of water. The water looked clear and inviting, and Emmie couldn’t wait to strip her clothes off and plunge in.
“I’ll go get us some clean clothes,” she told Sarah.
By the time she got back, Sarah had pulled off her shoes and stockings. She sat with her skirt pulled up to her knees and her feet dangling in the water. Emmie looked all around, but the soldiers were busy about their other duties setting up camp. Reassured of their privacy, she slipped behind the curtain and pulled off her stained and dusty dress and pulled the pins from her hair. She plunged in and came up sputtering. “It’s like ice,” she gasped.
Sarah wasted no time in joining her. Birds chirped in the trees around them and the breeze lapped the water into gentle waves and ripples as they quickly washed their hair. The water was too cold to stay long, and the air was chilly.
After they dressed, they left their hair down to dry as they washed their dirty clothes. Emmie thought Sarah looked better already. They spread their wet clothes out on the rocks and sat at the edge of the stream.
Emmie sighed, a sound of pure enjoyment as she felt the heat from the rock she was sitting on bake up through her chilled body. Almost dozing, she stretched out in the sun like a cat until a faint movement on the other side of the stream about fifty yards away caught her eye. “Oh, Sarah, look! Is that a buffalo?”
Sarah squinted against the glare of the sun as the movement came again. “Indians!” she screamed as she jumped to her feet.
Aware they’d been seen, the dim shapes rose to their feet and threw off their buffalo robes. Charging across the shallow creek with fierce yells, they headed straight toward the women with their tomahawks raised over their heads.
Emmie shrieked as she dashed toward the safety of the camp. She held tightly to Sarah’s hand as they screamed for Rand.
Isaac and Rand, followed by four or five other soldiers, charged toward the Indians immediately. “Get under the wagon,” Isaac ordered. Sarah grabbed Joel as he raced past them and dragged him under the wagon with them. Isaac dropped to one knee and aimed his rifle toward the advancing Indians.
A fearsomely painted brave choked and fell seconds after the rifle cracked. Soldiers raced from all over the camp to join the fray. Emmie covered her ears at the booming gunfire and the terrifying screams and shouts. She was sure she and Sarah were about to die.
Rooster rolled in under the wagon beside the women. “Don’t you fear, missy,” he panted to Emmie. “No redskins gonna git ya. I’ll shoot ya first myself ’fore I let them red devils take ya.” Unaware of the shock his words caused Emmie, he fired his rifle methodically at the faltering horde of Sioux.
A few minutes later it was over. One man was dead and three were injured, including Rand, who had taken an arrow in the left arm.
“It’s just a scratch,” he said impatiently as Sarah fussed over him. “I’m all right, Green Eyes.” He held her with his good arm as she burst into tears, then he saw Emmie’s white face and held out his bleeding arm for her to join them. “Just what I’ve always wanted,” he grinned when they finally regained their composure. “Two hysterical females watering my shirt.”
Isaac’s vivid blue eyes met Emmie’s, and she had to check the impulse to run to him. Turning away from his anxious gaze, she pulled out of Rand’s protective clasp so Sarah could tend to his wound. Emmie hurried toward the tent before she disgraced herself by begging Isaac to hold her. What was wrong with her anyway that she would have such a crazy thought? Men couldn’t be trusted. She’d best not let herself forget that.
Three hours later, Emmie was still too keyed up to sleep. She could hear Rand’s rhythmic breathing on the other side of the tent. Sarah snuffled occasionally in her sleep as she lay enfolded in Rand’s good arm with Joel on the other side. She’d wanted to make sure both the males in her life were within arm’s reach. Emmie shivered as she rolled over on her back and sat up. Maybe she’d just go out and sit by the fire for a while.
Rooster looked up as she lifted the flap on the tent and slipped outside. “Howdy, Miz Emmie. Can’t sleep?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never been so frightened in my life, Rooster.” She settled down beside him as he rummaged through his haversack and handed her a piece of jerky.
“Here. Jaw on this a while. It’ll wear you out.”
She smiled as she took the jerky. “Did you mean what you said about shooting us yourself?”
“ ’Course I meant it. It’s the unwritten law out here. We don’t never want to let our wimmenfolk fall into the hands of them red devils. We know what they do to ’em. We been told to save a bullet for any female and one for ourselves.”
Emmie shuddered. “What do they do to women?”
“Tain’t no use in you knowin’, cause it ain’t going to happen to you.” He avoided her eyes as he poked the fire with a stick.
“But what if it did?” she persisted. She always preferred to know the worst. It was one of her little quirks. And the things she imagined were always worse than the reality, so it was better to just know and set her mind at rest. Being killed by Indians couldn’t be any worse in reality than it was in her imagination.
But Rooster just clamped his jaw tight. “Don’t go coaxing me to tell you, ’cause I ain’t gonna do it. Old Rooster ain’t never goin’ to let them red devils git you, so don’t you bother yer purty head about it.”
And that’s all he would say, so Emmie had to be content with the horrors of her imagination. She could tell he meant what he said about shooting her himself first, too. And that scared her. What if one of the soldiers shot them because they thought they’d be captured and help arrived just in the nick of time or something? She shivered. Maybe she should ask Rand to change the rule. She yawned, finally sleepy, and mumbling goodnight to Rooster, made her way back to her tent.
The next morning Sarah looked much better. Rand had awakened them early and was even more eager to reach the safe haven of Fort Phil Kearny after the ambush the day before. As they rolled along, Isaac rode next to the ambulance and pointed out the majestic peaks in the distance.
“That’s the Bighorn Mountains. Beautiful, aren’t they? This Powder River country is the last of the Sioux hunting grounds. It’s usually thick with buffalo, but they’re already beginning to thin out from the white man hunting them. The Indians are afraid if they let us establish the Bozeman Trail along here that we’ll drive away the last of the game. And they’re right, as usual. It’s already beginning to happen.”
Emmie looked at Isaac’s face, bright with awe and love for the land. His nose was peeling a bit from the sun and his blue eyes stood out in sharp contrast to his tanned face. He seemed so solid and dependable mounted on his horse. She felt a tugging at her heartstrings and looked away.
Later that night, Emmie mentioned what Isaac had said. After the terror of the day before, Emmie thought it might be a good thing for the game to be driven away. Maybe the Indians would decide to be civilized if they couldn’t find game.
“I lived with the Sioux for a short while, you know,” Sarah said. “It was a curiously peaceful life where we worked for our food and really lacked nothing important. Their ways aren’t any different to us than our ways are to the Europeans. The Indian women do beautiful needlework. Sometime I’ll show you my buckskin dress and let you see inside a Sioux tepee. My friend, White Beaver, taught me a lot about what’s really important in life. Things like love and unity and self-sufficiency. You would like her.”
“Where is she now?”
“With Little Wolverine in Red Cloud’s resistance, as far as I know. Rand and I tried to talk them out of going, but they said they had to stand with their people before the Sioux are no more.”
Emmie could tell Sarah really respected her Indian friends and it surprised her. “How can Rand fight the Indians when he has friends among them? What if Little Wolverine were with the band who attacked?”
“It would be Rand’s worst nightmare to have to fight his friend. I don’t know if he could or not. But Wolverine said they would always be friends, so I don’t think he would ever attack us.”
Their discussion was interrupted by shouts from the front of the procession. “Phil Kearny ahead!”
Sarah and Emmie both thrust their heads out under the rolled-up canvas on the sides of the wagon and looked eagerly for their destination. Emmie could see sentries on a hill ahead waving signal flags.
“They’re signaling our arrival to the fort,” Sarah told her. “The commander will send out an escort.”
Rand had ordered the women to stay in the ambulance away from the possible eyes of hostiles, but Emmie longed to climb out of the lurching conveyance and run on ahead to the fort. The thought of sleeping in a real bed was enticing. As she and Sarah looked toward the fort, a wagon loaded with wood lumbered by. On the back of the wagon a bloodstained figure lolled, one arm flung down the back of the wagon. Emmie thought he looked like he had red hair like Isaac until Sarah gasped.
“That soldier’s been scalped,” Sarah choked out, her hand to her mouth.
Emmie shuddered and looked around fearfully for the Indians who had committed the atrocity. But the wooded hills around the fort looked peaceful. The ambulance jerked forward as the driver urged the horses to a trot. Rand had seen the dead soldier and motioned the troops to hurry toward the safety of the fort.
As they pulled inside the stockaded garrison, soldiers milled around shouting orders. “Do you see Amelia?” Sarah asked anxiously.
Emmie looked around but saw no other women. “It’s around lunch time,” she said, consulting her gold watch pinned to her dress. “Maybe we could find her in the mess hall.”
They climbed down out of the ambulance. Emmie was glad to be on solid ground again. She felt a little unsteady on her feet as though the ground was lurching under her. She looked around the tiny fort. “It looks more like I thought Laramie would look,” she said. “There are stockades and sentries along the block houses.”
Sarah nodded. “If that murdered soldier is anything to go by, they need all the protection they can get. There’s no telegraph line strung t
his far north, so if they’ve been having a lot of trouble with hostiles, they wouldn’t be able to wire for reinforcements.” Joel was dancing around impatiently, so she gave him permission to go look for his friend.
Rand stepped up and put an arm around Sarah. “I’ll see if I can find Jake and Amelia. You look done in. While you’re resting at Amelia’s, I’ll see the quartermaster and get our housing assignment.” But before he could go look for his brother, he heard a familiar voice.
“Rand!” His brother Jake ran toward them and seconds later the brothers were hugging and slapping one another on the back. “I can’t believe you’re here. And Sarah, too. Amelia will be ecstatic. She’s been driving me crazy with missing Sarah.” He pulled Sarah into a bear hug, then his handsome face sobered when he saw Emmie. Rand gave him one last clap on the back and hurried off to find the quartermaster.
Emmie knew Rand’s brother Jacob—or Jake as everyone called him—had never liked Ben. She hadn’t had much occasion to talk to Jake herself, so she assumed his reserve was because of her brother. He would just have to find out she wasn’t like her brother. She held out her hand. “Hello, Jake.”
He smiled then and took her hand. “Emmie. What are you doing here? Did your husband join the army? Ma wrote when you got married.”
Sarah rushed in as she saw Emmie bite her lip. “Emmie’s a widow and she’s here to keep me company. But there’s plenty of time for explanations later. I’m dying to see Amelia. Where is she?”
“I’ll show you to our quarters. She’s been feeling poorly, and I told her to rest this afternoon.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Sarah’s voice was alarmed as she and Emmie hurried to keep up with Jake’s long strides as he led them across the uncompleted parade ground toward a row of wooden houses.
He grinned. “You’ll have to ask her.”
Plains of Promise (Wyoming Series Book 2) Page 4