Ben McGarrity's thick brows snapped together. "A war party that close to the fort? But if Meggie had been taken by Indians, for God's sake, Cassie, why didn't you come back to us for help?"
Cass thought about how she'd parted from Drew, about what would have happened if she'd told him Meggie had been captured.
"I almost did. Then, because they were Cheyenne, I decided to follow them on the chance I could explain who Meggie was and get her back. If I'd come here, Drew would have ridden those men into the ground. There would have been a fight, and Meggie could have been hurt."
McGarrity sat impassive, watching her.
"Hunter found me while I was tracking the Cheyenne," she went on. "He helped me follow the signs to Standing Pine's village. We were trying to negotiate Meggie's release when Drew's troops attacked."
"You're telling me there were two trails leading to the village?" he asked, incredulous. "Yours and Meggie's?"
"Two trails that ran together, but hours apart," Hunter offered quietly. "Any fool should have been able to see that. Who was tracking for Reynolds, anyway?"
"Bartell," McGarrity admitted with a scowl.
"Bartell!" Hunter gave a snort of derision. "He couldn't track a company of artillery through fresh snow!"
"Reynolds wanted him," McGarrity conceded.
Drew had picked Bartell to follow the trail, Cass realized, because he thought he could trust a white man.
"Well, there's one sure way to find out what happened," Hunter said. "Ask Meggie."
McGarrity's scowl deepened. "Jesus, Jalbert, how can I ask that little girl?"
"How can you refuse to talk to her with lives at stake?"
The major rubbed at his beard again and turned to Hoskins. "Bring Meggie Reynolds to me."
Cass all but wilted with relief. Why hadn't she thought to have Ben ask Meggie about what had happened? But then, she hadn't wanted Meggie involved any more than McGarrity had. This would give her a chance to see Meggie again, to hold her, and explain why she was leaving her with her father. But it also meant facing Drew. The thought of that sparked up a fire in Cassie's chest.
"Abduction, however," McGarrity was saying, "is not the only charge that has been leveled against you, Cassandra. There's the question of what you passed on to the Indians about the munitions wagons. Drew admitted he told you when they were leaving and what trail they meant to follow. And we know you've had contact with the hostiles."
Cass hung her head, the tattoo throbbing like a brand against her cheek. "I have no way to prove that I am innocent, nothing to give you but my word."
"That's not enough."
Cass shook her head in defeat. She had nothing else to say.
Beside her, Hunter was tugging on the thong of the medicine bag that hung around his neck.
"Perhaps I have the proof you need."
He spilled the contents of the small leather pouch onto his palm. Cass stared at the objects, bits of wood and stone and shell, feathers and beads. Hunter's sacred objects. Among them was a folded square of paper not much bigger than his thumbnail. He pulled it out, held it for a moment in his hand, then passed the paper to McGarrity.
"Where did you get this?" the major asked as he began to open the crisp, cream-colored stock.
"A friend of Cass's gave it to me in the Cheyenne camp."
"And how will this help?"
Hunter's arched brows rose. "I don't know."
McGarrity's head came up.
Cass turned to him in disbelief.
"One of the Cheyenne women gave it to me the night before the attack," Hunter confessed. "I believe that whatever she entrusted to me is all that Runs Like a Doe claims."
Cass swallowed around a knot of grief. Runs Like a Doe had proved to be a good friend to her, even in death.
As McGarrity unfolded the paper, they could all see what it was—the wrapper from around a can of Cathcart's beef. It bore the army's eagle stamp in one corner and Jessup's horseshoe in the other. McGarrity stared down at it.
"I don't see how this will prove anything except that this tin of beef came from Jessup's trading post."
"Is there something on the back?" Hunter prodded him.
Ben turned the paper over, and all three of them caught their breath. "There is a message here. It says, 'The wagons of rifles leave Fort Carr by western route Thursday morning.'"
"Is it signed?"
McGarrity nodded. "With that horseshoe symbol."
"It's from Jessup, then!" Cassie declared.
"Of course it's from Jessup," Hunter agreed. "Everyone shopped at his store. That's how Jessup knew everything that went on at the fort. Who can say what other information he gleaned and passed along to Red Cloud?"
McGarrity wasn't so easily convinced. "Where did Cassie's friend get this?" he wanted to know. "Where is she so that I can question her?"
"I don't know where she got it," Hunter answered. "Probably from one of the warriors."
"And she died in the attack on the Cheyenne camp," Cass added as the memory of that morning swirled through her head, of how she'd held her old friend's hand as she lay dying. Cass's head rang with the sounds of shouting and gunfire. She smelled the smoke, tasted the bitter salt of tears, and knew she was responsible for that death and destruction. She had brought it down on all their heads by going after Meggie.
Cass shivered, going cold down to her bones. McGarrity's office swam before her eyes. Her knees gave way.
McGarrity rushed around the desk and helped Hunter ease Cass into one of the chairs. He gestured for the guard to bring them water.
When she had drunk it down, Cass turned to where McGarrity was kneeling beside her. "Oh, Ben," she whispered, her voice quivering, "do you know what happened in that camp? It was like Sand Creek. The troops rode in at dawn and shot down everyone they saw. They started firing the tepees and killing the horses.
"As much as Drew hated Indians, that couldn't have been what he meant to happen. I saw him for just a moment in the midst of the battle. He seemed shocked by the carnage, appalled that he'd lost control of his men. It seemed as if he meant to stop the killing. Did he stop it, Ben? Was Drew able to stop it?"
McGarrity looked at her, his eyes unreadable. "You don't know what happened?"
Cass shook her head, a swell of foreboding pressing up beneath her ribs.
"Drew was killed."
"No," she whispered. The room wavered around her. "Oh, no."
"I'm sorry, Cassie."
She felt Hunter's hand come warm against her shoulder, offering her his compassion and his strength. She drew on it, trying to absorb what Ben McGarrity had told her.
Drew was dead, killed in battle perhaps only minutes after he'd loomed out of the smoke. Cass could scarcely take it in.
She covered her face with her hands and let the tears she had been holding inside for half her life spill free. She wept silently, as her years with the Indians had taught her to weep, crying for the boy she'd loved and lost so long ago, for the man so scarred by surviving that he could never free himself from the past. She cried for the years they'd lost and the dreams they'd failed to realize.
But even as grief for Drew tore through her, Cass recognized that she'd grieved for him before. She'd grieved and accepted his death and given Drew up. She would be able to do that again, with time and patience and regret. But before she could begin to accept his passing, she had to know how Drew had died.
She wiped away tears with her fingers and raised her head. Ben McGarrity was offering her his handkerchief, a crisp, pristine handkerchief that must be something Sally insisted he carry. Cass smiled up at him through her tears.
He seemed relieved that he could do that much for her. Some of the concern and helplessness that etched his broad, rough features smoothed away.
Cass mopped her cheeks and blew her nose. "How did it happen?" she finally asked him.
McGarrity hesitated for a moment, as if he were deciding what to tell her. "Drew managed to stop the fighting,"
he finally said, "but by the time he did, half the village was aflame and there were wounded and dead on both sides. Even then there was sporadic gunfire, and Drew took a ball full in the chest. It was over in an instant, Cass. He didn't suffer. It was how he'd want to go, in the field, living up to his honor."
Cass sat limp, lost, her thoughts drifting to days when she and Drew had made daisy chains and picked blackberries and waded in the stream. To a kitten Drew had given her, and the way he'd liked to watch the sunset from the hill behind her house. On days long gone but not forgotten.
While she sat remembering, the men were returning to other matters, the question of the note.
"How can I tell if the paper that Indian woman gave you is genuine?" she heard McGarrity demand of Hunter.
"You could take my word," Hunter answered, "or compare the writing on that note with something else."
"To Jessup's ledgers, maybe," Ben said almost grudgingly, as if he were angry at not thinking to do that sooner. "I've been taking a very close look at Jessup's ledgers."
McGarrity took a book from one drawer of his desk and opened it. All three of them edged forward as Ben laid the wrapper in the center of the page.
The same scrolled copperplate script tracked across both the wrapper and in the page of the ledger. Runs Like a Doe had done very well by her, Cass thought.
McGarrity looked up from the book and pinned Hunter with his gaze. "You figured Jessup was the one who sent word about the munitions wagons to the Sioux."
"I suspected," Hunter admitted, "but I needed proof. That's why I was in the store that night. It's there in the ledgers, isn't it?"
McGarrity nodded. "There are notations in his second set of books to make me suspect that Jessup had connections to Red Cloud. He caught you reading them, didn't he?"
"And came after me with an ax."
"So you're claiming you killed Jessup in self-defense." When Hunter inclined his head, McGarrity went on. "We have two witnesses who swear they saw you stab him in cold blood."
"Then both of them are liars," Hunter said simply.
McGarrity settled back in his chair. "Well then, maybe I should ask Lloyd and Grenville exactly what they saw that night. Private, is Corporal Hoskins back?"
"No, sir."
"Then you head on over to the sutler's store. Mr. Grenville and Mr. Lloyd are probably in the back. You tell them I want a word with them."
Cass let out her breath. The charges against her and Hunter were dwindling. Perhaps once Ben talked to Meggie, all of this would be settled.
But then, if Drew were dead, what would happen to Meggie?
As if he sensed her concern, Hunter smiled at her. She took comfort in that strong, uncompromising face, in eyes that shone the deep, dark blue of midnight skies. In spite of how she'd tried to thwart him, Hunter had come for her, come to protect her, to offer himself in her place. He would stand by her no matter what.
The sound of footfalls and cursing came from the headquarters' main room. The infantry private shoved the gamblers Grenville and Lloyd through the door of McGarrity's office.
"Mr. Grenville and Mr. Lloyd." The major rose to greet them and offer them chairs.
The two gamblers exchanged wary glances when they realized who else was in the office.
McGarrity waited until they were settled, then stalked out from behind his desk. "I have a few questions I'd like to ask," he said.
"Questions?" Grenville queried.
"Questions regarding the night some weeks ago when Mr. Jessup was killed. You remember that night, don't you?"
"Clear as day," Lloyd answered.
"Indelibly," Grenville added.
"Good," the major replied, standing over them. "And you remember Alain Jalbert, our hired scout. Was he the one you saw in Jessup's store that night?"
"The very man," Lloyd confirmed. "I tried to hold him for the guards, but he ran out on us. But then, we told you all this before."
"Yes, you did."
"We saw him murder Mr. Jessup in cold blood," Grenville volunteered. "Stabbed him with his knife, he did!"
McGarrity braced his hand against the chair back and bent close over Lloyd's shoulder. "Was Mr. Jalbert in any way provoked that night?"
"Provoked?"
"To do violence to Mr. Jessup? Did Jessup have an ax perhaps?"
"I—I'm sure there were a-a-axes in the store," Lloyd stammered. "Do you remember seeing a display of axes, Albert?"
"Certainly I do."
"Well, was Mr. Jessup using one?" the major went on.
"I didn't see any trees that needed felling," Grenville snapped, obviously pleased with the rejoinder.
Cass wondered how McGarrity was going to get these men to admit to what they'd seen. They had a reputation around the fort as a slick and wily pair. She glanced across to where Hunter stood braced against the wall, his attention focused on the major.
But all Ben McGarrity did was settle back on the corner of his desk and stare at the two men. He stared and stared. His presence and his silence seemed to expand to fill the corners of the room. He raised the temperature ten degrees just sitting there as impassive as a stone.
The men fidgeted, shifted in their chairs, and moved their feet. Lloyd ran a finger around inside his collar. Grenville ruffled like a bird whose perch had been disturbed.
Even Cass began to perspire.
Still, McGarrity didn't say a word.
"Well, maybe the two of them were fighting," Lloyd finally conceded.
"Then Jalbert didn't knife the sutler in cold blood?" McGarrity clarified.
"Maybe not exactly cold blood," the little gambler conceded.
McGarrity rose, looming over them. "Are you saying that Mr. Jalbert killed the sutler in self-defense?"
"Hell, Jalbert's a half-breed," Grenville burst out. "What does it matter if he was trying to defend himself? He killed a white man!"
A bright red flush crept into McGarrity's face. "It matters to me," he said so softly Cass could barely hear him. "Now, was Jessup's killing self-defense?"
"You might call it that," Lloyd admitted.
"So Mr. Jalbert was in the trading post trying to find proof that Jessup had been selling information to the hostiles when the sutler attacked him. Is that right?"
Lloyd and Grenville exchanged startled glances. Clearly neither had suspected Jessup of spying for the Sioux.
"I suppose it is," Grenville admitted.
"And Mr. Jalbert killed the sutler in self-defense?"
"I suppose he did," Lloyd agreed.
"Very well, then," McGarrity said around a heavy sigh. "If that's what you saw—Mr. Jalbert defending himself when he knifed Tyler Jessup—I want the two of you to write up an affidavit to that effect."
"You want us to clear the mixed blood's name?" Grenville all but choked.
"There's some that won't believe that," Lloyd warned in a more conciliatory fashion, "Mr. Jalbert being an Injun and all."
"Then I leave it to the two of you to convince them," McGarrity threatened. "And I want you to let folks here at the fort know that Jessup was the one sending information to the Indians, not Mrs. Reynolds."
When neither Lloyd nor Grenville answered, major McGarrity rose to stand over them. "Mr. Lloyd, I want your word on this, and God help you if I don't get it!"
"Yes, sir. I'll swear it was self-defense."
"Mr. Grenville?"
Grenville scowled. "I suppose we can let folks know about Jessup spying for the Sioux."
The weight on Cass's chest seemed to lighten.
The two gamblers rose to go, but McGarrity stopped them. "Oh, and gentlemen, I hope you manage to spread the word before you pack up and leave Fort Carr. I'm closing down your poker game. I'm sure you'll find some other sutler who'll welcome your talents and some other post commander willing to look the other way. But I won't, not anymore. Do I make myself clear?"
"Perfectly, Major McGarrity," Lloyd answered.
"Exceedingly clear," Grenville ag
reed.
The gamblers slunk out.
McGarrity frowned at Cass and Hunter. "Well, I suppose I owe both of you an apology for thinking the worst."
"Does that mean you believe that Meggie Reynolds wandered off on her own?" Hunter asked, seeming to need the confirmation for Cass's sake. "And that Jessup was the spy?"
McGarrity nodded. "I need to speak to the child, but it will only be a formality. From the way she was yelling to be with you, Cassandra, I can't believe you've done anything to hurt her. As for the other charges—I think we can dispense with those now that we've discovered Jessup was in cahoots with Red Cloud."
There was the sound of voices in the anteroom, and Sally McGarrity and Meggie came into the office. The minute Meggie saw Cass, she ran into her arms.
"O-o-oh, Cassie," she wailed. "Sally said that Papa went away to be with Mama and with God, and I didn't think I had anyone left to be with me!"
Cass swept Meggie up into her lap, doing her best to absorb some of her fear and grief. "Oh, Meggie, I'm so sorry about your papa."
Meggie tightened her hold around Cassie's neck. "He was busy all the time," she whispered between sobs. "He didn't play with me much, but I love him. I don't want him to be gone away."
"I know, Meggie. I know." Cass held her and rocked her gently. "Sometimes in battles soldiers die. Ben says your father died very bravely. He died saving other people's lives."
The major came to kneel beside Cassie's chair. "Your papa was a good soldier and a valiant leader," he told Meggie softly.
Cass nuzzled against Meggie's neck. "Thank you, Ben," she whispered. "That's how Drew would want his daughter to remember him."
Ben stayed where he was, waiting patiently until the child quieted. "Meggie," he finally said. "There are some things I need to ask you. Is that all right?"
Meggie nodded and looked up, her fingers in her mouth.
"We were all worried about you when you ran away, especially your papa."
Meggie sniffed. "I know. I'm sorry."
"Were you afraid when the Indians took you?"
"They looked so mean."
"Were their faces painted?"
"Un-huh. Except the lady."
"What lady?"
"The one in the Indian camp. She was nice until the soldiers hurt her. But then Cassie came and got me."
So Wide the Sky Page 37