Chieftain (Historical Romance)

by Nan Ryan

“Twice as much, sweetheart,” he said, and kissed her.

  Working side by side they began slowly restoring the homestead. Maggie made it a point to be energetic and cheerful. She teased Shanaco, poked fun at herself for her ineptness at cooking and stopped often in midtask to impulsively throw her arms around him and demand to be kissed.

  Sensitive to his feelings, she knew Shanaco was worried that she might be lonely and unhappy. She did everything she could to put his mind at ease. She assured him that she had no regrets. She loved him. She needed no one else. She wanted only to spend the rest of her life with him.

  But Maggie didn’t delude herself. She realized that they would have only each other, never any friends. They would not be accepted by their neighbors. Would never have visitors stop by to say hello. It made no difference to her. Her one and only regret had been leaving Bright Feather. She missed him. There were times at day’s end when, gazing at the sun setting behind the highest mountain peaks, Maggie missed the sweet little boy so much she had to blink back unshed tears.

  The wind whipped across the Oklahoma plains and cut through his heavy greatcoat like an icy knife. Colonel Harkins shivered and hunched his shoulders. Even with his collar turned up, his ears felt like they might freeze and fall off.

  Alone in the fort cemetery on that early frigid morning, the troubled colonel stood at the newly dug grave of Major Miles Courteen. Campaign hat in his gloved hands, eyes downcast, Harkins addressed the dutiful career soldier resting there, “Old friend, forgive me, please forgive me. It was a terrible burden that fell on your shoulders and, sick as you were, you discharged your unpleasant duty without question or complaint. Your willingness to meet this awful obligation hastened your demise and for that I shall be eternally sorry.” Tears sprang to the colonel’s eyes and he choked when he added, “I will set these matters right, old friend. I will do what has to be done, no matter how hard, just as you did.”

  Colonel Harkins put on his campaign hat, squared it on his head, drew himself up and smartly snapped off a military salute to his fallen comrade.

  Pivoting about, he walked away as the sun rose over the awakening fort. He went directly to the administration building. There in his private office, he closed the door and took off his campaign hat, heavy coat and gloves.

  He circled the desk. He unlocked the bottom drawer and took out the maroon file folder. The file that Major Courteen had ordered delivered upon his death.

  Colonel Harkins placed the folder on his desk.

  No need to read it again. If he tried, he could never forget what was in it. Every damning word was etched on his memory where it would stay forever.

  Colonel Harkins sat down in his chair, leaned back and closed his eyes. He felt old and uncommonly tired. His chest hurt. He suffered palpitations of the heart. He clutched the chair arms tightly and again choked back tears as he recalled that terrible moment when he had first opened the file and read every shocking word.

  There it was in black and white. In his absence, Major Courteen had conducted a secret hearing regarding the events surrounding Lois’s alleged rape and Shanaco’s subsequent punishment at the hands of Captain Daniel Wilde and four subordinates.

  Major Courteen had, immediately after the hearing, sent regimental surgeon Ledette to the colonel’s residence to examine Lois. Over her fierce objections, the surgeon had carried out his orders. Doctor Ledette reported in writing that “upon my thorough examination of Miss Lois Harkins, I found no evidence of forced penetration. Furthermore, it is my firm belief, based on years of experience and observation, that the superficial bruises to Miss Harkins’s body were self-inflicted.”

  Then came the sworn deposition of C. C. Sweeney, the proprietor of the general mercantile store. Sweeney testified that on the evening in question, Thursday, November 18th, Miss Lois Harkins did not—at any time—come to his store to purchase a tin of pain tablets or anything else.

  Sitting alone now in his office, the heartsick colonel blamed himself for everything. It was all his fault. He should never have allowed Lois to come out to the frontier. He loved his daughter, but in his heart, he had known what she was all along. A lovely, deceitful temptress. Just like her mother. Just like the beautiful woman who had broken his heart so many years ago.

  Blood had told. They were two of a kind, mother and daughter. Selfish, spoiled, determined. Desirable, wily, dangerous.

  It was not easy to admit, but Lois was a heartless liar. A spoiled, vengeful young woman who thought nothing of wrongly accusing an innocent man of rape. All because the man in question couldn’t be easily conquered by her feminine charms as most men were.

  As Captain Daniel Wilde had been.

  Wilde would have to pay.

  Loathe Shanaco though he might, the half-breed was innocent.

  Colonel Harkins pushed back his chair, rose and turned to the bookshelves. Once again he took down that blood-red leather-bound book, Military Law and Courts-Martial.

  Forty-Three

  Maggie and Shanaco had been at the mountain ranch for only a couple of weeks when, at supper time one evening, they heard the sound of drumming hoof-beats. Someone on horseback was rapidly approaching. Pistol, dozing before the fire, jumped up and started barking.

  Shanaco rose from the table and snapped his fingers to silence Pistol. Maggie stayed where she was but laid her fork down and folded her hands in her lap. Shanaco went for his revolver and crossed to the door.

  They heard heavy footsteps on the porch, then a loud knock. Shanaco glanced back at Maggie. Gun cocked and raised, he opened the door.

  And there stood a broadly smiling Double Jimmy. “Don’t shoot, Chief. I come in peace.”

  Shanaco laughed, lowered the gun and shook the Indian agent’s hand. Maggie was already up from the table and hurrying to greet her old friend. “What on earth brings you here?” she asked when he caught her up in a bear hug.

  “I missed you,” he said as he squeezed her waist and then released her.

  “You’re just in time for supper,” she said, smiling, glad to see him. “Down, Pistol,” she scolded the happy wolfhound who was jumping up on the white-haired man he recognized as a friend.

  Pleasantries were exchanged. Maggie happily informed Double Jimmy that she and Shanaco were married. Double Jimmy offered heartfelt congratulations. Finally the three of them sat down to supper.

  That’s when Double Jimmy said, “I have some things to say.” He paused, looking at them purposefully. “And I want you both to hear me out before you protest or interrupt. Will you do that, please?”

  Shanaco and Maggie looked at each other. She nodded. Shanaco said, “We will listen.”

  “Good. First, I want you to know that I’m truly sorry for what happened to you, Shanaco. You’ll be pleased to hear that Lieutenant Daniel Wilde was confined to quarters for having you beaten. He faces certain court-martial and discharge.

  “As for the colonel’s daughter, Lois has been sent back East to her mother.” Double Jimmy paused and shook his head. “Poor Colonel Harkins, when he returned to the fort, Lois wept and told him she had been brutally raped by you and he believed her. But the late Major Miles Courteen—bless him, he died of influenza just days after your beating—had held a confidential hearing in the colonel’s absence. Lois was proved a liar and so—”

  “How?” Maggie asked.

  “Major Courteen insisted she be examined by the regimental surgeon and…” Double Jimmy shrugged, cleared his throat and looked down at his plate. When he looked up he said, “C. C. Sweeney testified to the provost marshal that Lois had never been to the general mercantile on the evening of November 18 as she had claimed. All sub-rosa.

  “Finally, after the colonel had read the damning files Major Courteen had ordered delivered to Harkins upon his death, the colonel confronted Lois and she broke down and admitted that she had fabricated the story of the rape.”

  “Makes little difference now,” Shanaco said.

  “But it does,” said Doub
le Jimmy. He reached inside his buckskin shirt and withdrew a legal document. “Read it, Shanaco. You’ve been given full amnesty. A ‘safe passage’ order signed by Colonel Harkins.”

  Shanaco carefully studied the document. Then handed it to Maggie. She read it, looked up, smiled and leaned across the table to kiss her husband.

  They both listened as Double Jimmy spent the remainder of the meal telling them how the unfortunate incident had brought chaos and unrest to the reservation.

  “Many of the young men have fled, swearing they’ll never return,” Double Jimmy said.

  “That’s a shame,” said Shanaco, lifting his coffee cup.

  “They must return to the reservation. They’ll starve if they don’t.” Double Jimmy paused, glanced at Maggie and said, “Come back to the fort, Shanaco. Your People need you. Who better than you to show them the white man’s road? And you, Maggie, the children miss you and need you. You’ve said it yourself, if they don’t learn to speak English, what chance do they have in life? Those children love you, Maggie. Little Bright Feather was brokenhearted when he learned you had gone.”

  A persuasive man, Double Jimmy talked and talked, ready with an answer for every objection Shanaco raised. You won’t be a prisoner at the fort; you can come and go as you please. You want to be a rancher? You can be a successful rancher at the reservation. And you can teach young braves to be ranchers. You want a big house? You can build a big house on the banks of the Red River right there at the edge of the reservation.

  Double Jimmy wisely appealed to Shanaco’s sense of duty and honor. “Now, son, I’ll admit,” he said, “that your returning would mean dedicating yourself to helping your People adjust and accept their new way of life. It wouldn’t be easy.” He took a long swig of coffee and said, “News of your return would quickly spread and that would draw the angry rebels back to the safety of the reservation.”

  Maggie looked at her husband and reached for his hand. Softly she said, “Who better to teach the People to live in peace than the last Comanche war chief?”

  Christmas Eve, 1875

  Fort Sill, Oklahoma

  The Christmas Eve wagon train was a yuletide tradition at posts all across the frontier. Fort Sill was no exception.

  Everyone—whites and Indians alike—were gathered along the road leading into the fort. Excitement ran high as the noon hour approached. Children laughed and darted out into the road, anxiously looking for the first signs of the wagon train.

  It was a high spot for the children and they all crowded up so they could be close to the arriving wagons.

  “There it is!” someone shouted at straight up noon, and a loud roar went up from the crowd.

  The lead wagon was driven by the jolly, red-clad Old Santa Claus himself, and beside him on the seat was the smiling, waving Mrs. Claus. When the wagon came through the fort’s front gates, the children rushed toward it, shouting, “Santa! Santa!”

  The coppery-skinned Santa and the pale Mrs. Claus smiled and waved. Pistol, a white-tasseled red Santa’s cap on his great head, guarded the Christmas Eve wagon. Maggie and Shanaco reached into the bag resting behind the seat and began throwing hard candy to the crowd.

  The happy children laughed and squealed and scrambled to catch the tossed candy. Maggie looked anxiously around. She saw Old Coyote, happy tears shining in his eyes, wave. Then he pointed just ahead. Maggie turned, looked and spotted the adorable little boy.

  “Look, Santa.” She tugged on Shanaco’s red sleeve.

  Then beamed with joy when Shanaco nodded, abruptly pulled up on the reins, swung down from the wagon, scooped up Bright Feather with one strong arm and deposited the child on the seat beside Maggie.

  His eyes big, Bright Feather gazed at Mrs. Claus in wonder and said, “Miss Maggie?”

  “Yes, darlin’,” she said and hugged him.

  “Are you…are you married to Santa Claus?” He turned to stare at Santa.

  “Ho! Ho! Ho!” said Santa, and winked at the boy.

  Bright Feather laughed happily.

  ISBN: 978-1-4603-6389-8

  CHIEFTAIN

  Copyright © 2004 by Nan Ryan.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, MIRA Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  MIRA and the Star Colophon are trademarks used under license and registered in Australia, New Zealand, Philippines, United States Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries.

  Visit us at www.mirabooks.com