Silence reigned as men from two different races watched and waited to see who would make the first move. Golden Eagle nudged his horse forward and stopped. The others remained behind him. His piercing gaze took in each white man, and rested on the woman who stepped from the doorway.
Ben handed his rifle to the man next to him and took a few steps forward, hand held in the universal sign for peace. Each of the rough-looking mountain men behind him tensed, ready to defend a man who had the honor of being called friend by all of them.
Ben took a moment to study the warrior who sat his horse as if he and the animal were one. He gulped nervously as he took several steps toward the silent, imposing Indian.
The horse sidestepped impatiently and tossed his sleek head as Ben approached. Ben’s gaze was momentarily diverted to the warrior’s magnificent beast. A single soft-spoken command stilled the restless stallion, and Ben raised his brows toward the warrior in respect.
As he stared from warrior to horse, fleeting memories chose that moment to surface. Ben warily shifted his eyes from the warrior back to the golden horse standing several feet from him.
He was known in these parts for his eye for good horseflesh. That was one reason the commander at Fort Tecumseh paid him to breed strong, sturdy mounts. Many of the mustangs he and John had caught and tamed had produced exceptional offspring, fast, agile and extremely hardy. These were much-needed traits out here in the wilderness.
This particular stallion was not only a fine specimen, but also familiar. In seconds Ben had taken note of the glistening coat, the strong broad body, dark flowing mane, strong neck and proud head.
He studied the white star in the center of the horse’s muzzle. He’d recognize that horse anywhere, anytime. It was one he’d helped deliver many years ago, one of their best back then. In his excitement, Ben forgot about the possible danger as he approached.
“I remember the day John presented this yearling to his daughter on her twelfth birthday and her joy and love for the young colt.”
He frowned and glanced at the watchful warrior sitting above him. “I also remember the night this young colt disappeared. John said it had been stolen, but I saw what happened that night with my own eyes,” Ben said loudly.
He remembered his surprise when he’d gone outside for a smoke the night Sarah had sprained her ankle. He’d seen John come out of the barn carrying Sarah and leading the colt. “I followed them, you know. Saw them leave the colt tied to a tree and walk away. I stayed to see just what was going on.” Ben shook his head.
“Sure was surprised to see a young warrior come right up, calm the colt and disappear in the night with Sarah’s prized horse. Figured you must’ve done somethin’ real special for her to make that kind of sacrifice.” No one knew better than he what that horse meant to her.
Cocking his head, Ben looked toward the waiting warrior. He saw the hint of amusement shining from within luminous deep black eyes, despite the grimness of the warrior’s features.
As no immediate threat seemed forthcoming, Ben drew even with the stallion and reached out to run his hand down the muzzle, talking softly. “He turned out better man I ever hoped. Sarah raised this young-un herself. You have done her proud. She would have been happy to see what a fine beast he’s become.”
Putting his hands to his hips, Ben forced himself back to business. “What brings you back to our land? Why have you returned? What do you want from us?” he demanded aloud, more for the benefit of the others. He used hand signals for the Indian, not expecting him to understand him.
Golden Eagle had been amazed when he saw recognition flare in the old man’s eyes. Leaning forward, he posed his own question.
“Tell me, old man. Where is Sarah this day? Is she here?” Golden Eagle straightened at the shadow of sadness in the old man’s eyes.
Ben drew himself to his full imposing height, his protective instincts bristling, eyes narrowing suspiciously as he answered with a question of his own. “Now why do you want to know about a girl you’ve not seen in five years? Why are you here? What do you want from us?” he repeated.
Looking toward the restless men armed with rifles, Golden Eagle sought to reassure him. “We mean no harm to you or your people. We search for the one who is to become my wife. She was abducted from our village. I seek your help.”
“I’m sorry, son. We know nothing about any Indian girl,” Ben answered, relief relaxing his features.
“The one I search for has the name White Wind, daughter of Chief White Cloud of the Hunkpapas.” He pointed out Sarah’s father, who came forward. “White Wind is the future wife of Golden Eagle, son of Hawk Eyes, Chief of the Miniconjou tribe.” He pointed appropriately at himself and his father.
“White Wind is also known by the white man’s name of Sarah,” he announced.
A startled cry came from the porch. Mary flew down the worn path, eluding hands that reached out to stop her. She came to stand by her husband’s side to hear news of her Sarah.
Ben threw Mary a withering glare. “Thought I told you to stay inside, woman. Can’t you ever do as I ask?” he sternly scolded her.
Mary gave her husband her famous “do hush up” look and turned her attention to the warrior. “My girl, she’s alive? Please tell me.” Mary closed her eyes as if afraid of what she’d hear.
Golden Eagle reacted to the woman’s sincere concern. “When last seen, your ‘daughter’ was alive and well.” He motioned his warriors to put away their weapons, and dismounted as Ben likewise instructed his men to put their rifles away.
Ben and Mary stared at the chief, this warrior who claimed to be Sarah’s father. “Sarah left us a letter months ago stating she was going to seek safety elsewhere and maybe search for her father. It would seem she was successful.” Ben nodded his head toward White Cloud. “We’ve not heard nor seen her since.”
Mary stepped forward. “Where is she? Why is she not with you still?” Her voice trailed off as a new fear took hold. Something horrible must’ve happened for this many Indians to come searching for her.
Golden Eagle took several deep breaths. His chest squeezed painfully. “We talk. I will tell you all I know.”
Ben looked toward Mary, who nodded. “Come,” he invited, “we will talk inside.” He turned and led the way to the door.
Golden Eagle motioned for Red Fox to dismount. Followed by Red Fox, his father, Chief White Cloud and Running Wolf, he entered the strange large house of wood. Gingerly, he sat at the wooden table, easing himself onto the wooden seat, following Ben’s example. The others also sat themselves.
After all were seated, and those who wanted to listen were standing around the edges of the room, a hush fell upon the two groups of men. Speaking clearly, Golden Eagle disclosed all he knew, from his first encounter with Sarah at the stream to how they’d discovered that she was the daughter of White Cloud.
Ben frowned and glared at Golden Eagle. “You took our girl from us, but you kept her from harm. We found out later that good-fer-nothin’ Willy had gone to the fort. Lieutenant Smithers kicked him out for bein’ drunk and raisin’ hell with his men soon after.”
Ben slammed his fist onto the table and stared at Golden Eagle. “That bastard. I don’t know what to tell you and your people. We will join your search.” Ben leaned forward, eyes intently on Golden Eagle. “But I warn you right now, Golden Eagle, if we find her, she returns with me unless she chooses to return with you. It must be her choice. I will not allow her to be forced again.”
Golden Eagle met Ben’s fierce protective stare with his own. Slowly, he nodded, knowing that Sarah would return with him. “Agreed,” he said.
“Hey, Ben,” Jacob called out. “Me ’n’ Sam, well, we may know somethin’.” All eyes turned to a stout bushy-faced man standing outside, lounging against the doorway. Flushing as many pairs of eyes suddenly focused on him, Jacob nervously cleared his throat.
“Well, spit it out, for God’s sake. What do you know?” Ben demanded.
&n
bsp; “Well, I don’t know nothin’ fer sure ’bout Miss Sarah, but on our last trip to take them horses to the fort for you, we rode by old Clyde’s abandoned tradin’ post to avoid a roaming party of not-so-friendly-looking Injuns.” Jacob coughed and cleared his throat nervously as he’d forgotten about their present company.
Motioning impatiently for Jacob to continue, Ben groaned and Golden Eagle rose. “Speak,” two voices commanded in unison.
“Well, we saw fresh horse tracks all around the outside, and inside, well, it were wrecked. Could tell by the splinters on the broken chair it were done recently. Looks as though someone’s been spendin’ time there. Were empty bottles broken all over the place too. Seemed kinda funny someone would be usin’ that place. Not many out here know it’s there. Besides, one strong wind storm’s sure ta bring the rickety old place down.”
Ben threw his hands up in anger. “Why didn’t you say anything to me, either of you?” he roared, startling those nearest to him.
Swallowing nervously, Jacob’s dropped his voice lower as he sheepishly explained, “We, Sam and me, we didn’t figure it important. I plumb forgot ’bout it till now.”
Golden Eagle started pacing. “Could this Willy know of that place?”
Ben frowned, then leaped to his feet in excitement. “Of course! John and Willy’s grandfather Jean helped build that tradin’ post and lived there with Clyde for many years. After John and Willy joined him, Jean built this place. A few years later, Clyde died. It’s been so long since I was out that way I didn’t know that the shack still stood.”
Golden Eagle rose. “Tell us how to get there. We must hurry.”
Ben compressed his lips grimly. “I’ll do better than that. I will lead you there. Jacob, you and Sam come with me. Henry, stay with Mary in case they come this way. Be on your guard.”
Before they left, Mary blocked Golden Eagle’s exit. “Do you love Sarah?”
Taking Mary by the shoulders, Golden Eagle met her teary gaze with a compellingly honest stare. “White Wind is my heart, my soul mate. I love her, and she loves me. Do not fear, old woman. You shall see her again,” he promised.
“Bless you, God go with you.” Tears streamed down Mary’s wrinkled cheeks as she and Henry watched until only clouds of dust remained.
Warm temperatures and buzzing insects woke Willy. With one eye open, he took note of the midafternoon position of the sun. Grabbing his canteen, he held it up and splashed tepid water over his face, shaking the droplets free as he leaned against a huge gray rock peppered with black spots. He pulled a hunk of leftover rabbit that he’d dried over a fire days ago out of his shirt pocket. Working his jaws, he attempted to chew the leather-tough meat. Grimacing as an acrid taste invaded his mouth, he spat the burned meat out and decided to go without.
Next he pulled out his flask, but that too was empty. Throwing the bottle as far as he could, Willy started pacing, kicking stones and twigs. His glance fell to the open doorway of the shack.
He stopped, feet planted apart, arms crossed, as he gave thought to the problem at hand. What to do with his ward and the squaw? Since Sarah was now living and dressing like one of them, keeping her was out of the question. She’s no better ’n’ her ma in her whorin’ ways, he thought.
But he still had the problem of getting her money. His lips twitched. If she died, as her only surviving relative, he could legally lay claim to all that had belonged to her.
He stared unseeingly at the wide blue sky. He needed to be rid of the girl without bringing suspicion on himself. His brows drew together as he reviewed and discarded one idea after another.
A picture of her in her Indian garb with her braided hair flashed unwanted before him. “Goddamned squaw. Livin’ and sleepin’ with them heathen savages. You’ll pay for ruinin’ my plans,” Willy swore aloud. A sudden thought occurred to him, and his eyes narrowed to slits as a plan with possibilities began to take form. Willy grinned. “Damn, ol’ boy. You’s done it again. All we gotta do is kill her, let Ben find her body and blame the Injuns. Then the money’s mine,” he gloated aloud. “Even that stupid Lieutenant Smithers will have no choice but ta force Ben ta give me what belongs ta me.” He laughed.
A movement to his left distracted him as Red sauntered through the bush, supplies in hand. Tom lay sleeping on his bedroll, and Hank stood watch over the girls. Harry had left soon after they’d arrived, saying he had no desire to take part in the fun planned for the evening.
Tossing his ripped and torn hat to the ground, Willy stretched and scratched the top of his head, his hair matted with bits of dirt, leaves and twigs. “Ah, time to see how my prisoners are faring.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
In broad daylight, the precariously leaning old trading post had a sad, defeated air. Large gaps in the decaying log sides had allowed small animals to squeeze through. The once sturdy door hung limply to one side, propped open by a large rock. Time had taken its toll, allowing nature to reclaim what was once hers.
Inside, years of accumulated dirt, debris and animal matter hid the wooden floors. Leaves scattered from one side to the other with each breath of air that passed through the open door.
Sarah opened her eyes and surveyed her surroundings with forced detachment. Life had started here for her father and grandfather. Was life to end here for her?
She hugged her knees tight to her chest and lowered her head to rest on her knees. Her hands and feet ached with numbness from the constricting ropes binding them. She scooted back and pressed herself tightly into the corner, as if she could make herself invisible from Hank, who stood guard at the open doorway.
She ignored the silken spiderwebs, their tiny owners temporarily scared away. Wild-Flower sat across the room, bound securely to what was left of a sagging bed frame. She lifted her gaze to Wild-Flower’s, and once again admired the Indian girl’s bravery. Sarah tried to draw strength from her fearless stare, her unyielding pride, but looked away in shame. It was her fault Wild-Flower found herself in Willy’s evil clutches.
Lifting listless, haunted eyes to the shabby one-room shack, she searched fruitlessly for a way out, a weapon, anything. But she knew there was nothing. She’d searched every inch of the room countless times since Willy had dumped her and Wild-Flower in here.
No one would think to look here for her. Not many even knew of this old place. Leaning her head back, she caught a glimpse of blue sky peeking through gaping holes in the ceiling. Her thoughts wandered to Golden Eagle and the many questions buzzing in her head, leaving her dizzy as her emotions ranged from stark hopelessness to the belief that rescue was just around the corner.
Had Golden Eagle returned? Had his people discovered her missing? Were they even now searching for her? Had they even found Wild-Flower’s trail? And the hardest question that frightened her the most: How long could she hope for rescue before time ran out?
Sarah stole a glance at Hank, slouched over in front of the door, falling asleep. She couldn’t see the others.
Glancing once again at Wild-Flower, Sarah couldn’t read the girl’s stoic expression. Another wave of guilt and fear overrode her optimistic hope of rescue as a single tear escaped.
It could’ve been hours or just minutes when Sarah lifted her head. The sound of approaching footsteps had her sitting straight, watching the doorway warily.
Willy stood in the opening. “Out with you.” He nodded at Hank, thumb jerking over his shoulder to emphasize his command.
“Hey, Willy, when does we get one? I could take the squaw outside,” Hank eagerly offered, eyes traveling over the Indian girl who remained silent, her stony gaze unwavering.
Willy slapped Hank on the back and grinned as he too looked his fill, tongue snaking out to lick his lips. “All in good time, ma boy. Thinks I’ll be the first white man to teach her a thing ’bout lovin’. But don’t you worry none. I’ll break her in real good for you guys. Now get.”
As Sarah watched, Hank left, rubbing his hands in anticipation, and Willy advance
d into the small room and towered over Wild-Flower, letting his eyes rove over her enticing curves.
Knees cracking and protesting, Willy bent over, grabbed Wild-Flower’s chin and grinned at the burning hatred smoldering in her eyes. “I think you’s gonna be a real wild one. Mebe I’ll have you first. We’ll let Sarah over there watch, and show her what she’s been missin’ all this time.” His head turned as he spoke, staring hard at Sarah.
Grinning, he added, “I hoped there’s still some fight left in you she-cats. I like my women with lots of fight in them. They all fight me at first, then they gets all scared. That’s when I show ’em who’s boss.” Willy eyed Sarah over his shoulder. “Just like them two squaws I had. They was real feisty. They fought me real good, but it didn’t do them no good. They learned what it means to fear me. Just like you two bitches will.”
Willy stood, grabbed the one remaining chair and pulled it around to sit between the girls at an angle so he could look at first one, then the other. His beefy arms rested across the broken chair back and his legs stretched out.
Sarah kept her eyes trained on Willy as he sat and stared at them, beady eyes shifting from one to the other as if he couldn’t make up his mind which one to torment first. She knew he was trying to unnerve them and feed their fear. That he was succeeding and knew it made him worse.
Willy’s eyes hungrily settled on Sarah, and she swallowed hard as his hand lowered to his lap, stroking himself in anticipation. “Ah, dear Sarah. I hope you were able to rest. I’s got great plans for us. Such a pity we’ve never really gotten to know each other. Seems I waited too long. But no matter. By the time I’m done with you, we’ll know each other intimately.”
Sarah cringed, his cruel laughter jarring her sensitive nerves. She didn’t dare close her eyes. Instead, she reached deep within herself, struggling with her fear. She thought of her unborn baby and anger grew, giving her the courage she needed. If she were to die, she’d not cower and beg. “You think you’re pretty clever, don’t you. What do you wanna bet that by nightfall you’ll have an arrow piercing your black, wicked heart? Do you really think you can outsmart the warriors of Golden Eagle’s tribe?” she asked scornfully, forcing the trembling fear from her voice.
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