He was unnerved about the whole situation. He felt so bad about forgetting how she was dressed, but even if he had remembered, nothing could have been different. There were none of the clothes worn by white women at his village. She would still have arrived in Indian attire.
He could not leave just yet. His eyes remained locked on the gate. His ears remained alert to any noise coming from inside the walls.
If he heard a woman scream, his heart would be turned inside out, for surely it would be Mary Beth!
Mary Beth scarcely breathed as she walked into the fort. The soldier had taken her horse and tied it to a hitching rail, while another soldier had stepped up and was now escorting her to the large cabin in the center of the courtyard.
She knew forts well enough to know that it was the colonel’s dwelling and main office.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw that all activity at the fort had stopped. She could feel eyes on her, watching her every move.
When she looked at one soldier at length, she saw a strange expression of disgust in his eyes.
And she had not even been questioned by the soldier who had met her at the gate. She had just been told that he would take her immediately to Colonel Downing. The cold look in his eyes as he had looked her slowly up and down still made her uneasy.
Then it came to her like a bolt of lightning. The dress. The moccasins. Her hair, which she had worn in braids these past two days. Everything about her, except her skin and hair color, looked Indian.
A sudden flush heated her face as she looked guardedly from man to man. She could not help wondering if they could tell she had made love with an Indian.
To all white men, a woman was no longer worth anything if a red man had “soiled” her. They couldn’t know that she had made love to Brave Wolf, but it was obvious that she had been among Indians.
Would the colonel even be willing to help her find David? Would he condemn her for how she was dressed and dismiss her as an Indian lover?
Except for what Brave Wolf had said about this colonel, she didn’t know anything about him. But from what Brave Wolf had told her, she knew that he was not a compassionate man and that he despised Indians.
Did he hate them enough to make her pay for wearing the clothes of an Indian maiden?
She felt her knees go weak at the thought of facing the colonel. Yet she could not allow herself to think that she should not have came to the fort. It was for David that she was there.
She had to hope the colonel would understand about her having been taken captive, that she’d had no choice about what to wear.
“In here, ma’am,” the soldier said as he opened the door to the cabin. “Our commander is Colonel William Downing.”
Mary Beth nodded a quiet thank you and walked past him and into the cabin. He followed her in.
As she entered, she became aware of a thick smell of cigar smoke that hung in the air like fog all around the room.
Through the smoke she saw a husky, clean-shaven man sitting in full uniform, with resplendent gold epaulets, at a huge oak desk at the far side of the room. He had a thick crop of sandy-colored hair, and he appeared to be around forty years of age.
A lone kerosene lamp sat at one side of the colonel’s desk, which was littered with papers, journals, and folders. Scarce light filtered through the haze of dust on the two windows in the room.
“What have we here?” Colonel Downing asked, slowly rising from his chair.
He took a thick cigar from his mouth and rested it on the edge of an ashtray. His gaze swept quickly over Mary Beth as she stood rigidly just inside the door.
“Sir, she came on horseback, alone,” the soldier said after saluting the colonel. He now stood with his arms stiffly at his sides.
“Alright,” the colonel growled out. “Dismissed.”
The soldier saluted, then swung around and hurried from the cabin.
“Who in the hell are you and what in the hell are you doin’ in those clothes?” Colonel Downing asked as he came from behind the desk.
His hands clasped behind him, he made a slow turn around Mary Beth, his eyes raking slowly over her. “Injun attire, eh?” he grumbled. “That surely means you’ve been with Injuns.”
He stepped in front of her and looked her directly in the eye. “So, ma’am, the next question is . . . why are you dressed like that? And where are those you were with now?”
“My name is Mary Beth Wilson,” she gulped out. “My husband was Major Lloyd Wilson. He was killed in the Battle of the Little Big Horn along with so many who were stationed at Fort Kitt. I was among those who were on their way to your fort when . . . the wagon train . . . was . . . attacked. Surely you know about that already, especially the results of the Indian ambush. I have no idea how many were killed that day, for . . . for . . . I was taken captive by a renegade, and so was my son David.”
“Yes, I know about those who died,” Colonel Downing said, his voice drawn. “All of them died. All of them.”
His eyebrows rose. “Yet you say you survived, as did your son,” he said, kneading his chin. “Mighty lucky, wouldn’t you say?”
Mary Beth was first horrified by the news that everyone she had known on the wagon train was dead, then offended, for the colonel seemed to be implying something quite nasty.
“Lucky?” she squeezed out. “Do you call being abducted by renegades lucky? Do you call seeing my son stolen by a renegade lucky? Sir, I have died a thousand deaths inside my heart since I saw my son abducted.”
“Renegades, eh?” he said. “So it was renegades who did the killing and who lent you Injun attire, huh?”
“Yes, it was renegades who did the ghastly deed, but no, it was not a renegade who brought me safely to the fort,” Mary Beth said, lifting her chin defiantly. “I was rescued by a friendly Crow chief and his warriors. You know of him. Chief Brave Wolf. He took me in. His women gave me clothes to wear. They were generous in all ways to me. It was Chief Brave Wolf who escorted me close enough to the fort today so that I’d be safe. He has left to return to his village.”
She hoped that the colonel wouldn’t see the blush she felt on her cheeks, for she could not help thinking about those wondrous, precious moments alone with Brave Wolf.
She had to make certain this colonel and his soldiers never discovered her true feelings for Brave Wolf, not until she had achieved her goal here. Then she would return to Brave Wolf and become his wife.
Then the whole world could know. She would be proud to say that he was her husband, although she knew how the white community would feel about it.
To her own people she would be worse than whores that sold their bodies to men.
Yes, she must make certain no one guessed her secret while she was trying to get help in finding David.
“And so it was Chief Brave Wolf who escorted you here, eh?” the colonel said, going back to his chair and sitting down. He gestured with a hand toward a chair beside his desk. “Sit.”
She moved almost defiantly into the chair, her back stiff as she sat facing the colonel.
“Sir, my son is the reason I am here,” she said, her voice as tight as before. “As I told you, he was abducted, but by a different renegade than I was.”
She felt the same ache in her heart as she had since that moment her son had been ripped from her side. “I have not seen David since,” she said, her voice breaking. “Chief Brave Wolf sent out a search party, but he couldn’t find any signs of my son. It is as though he has disappeared from the face of the earth.”
“So you asked Injuns to search for your son before coming here to ask our assistance?” Colonel Downing said, again lighting his cigar and taking slow, deep drags from it. He then took it from his mouth again. “Why is that, young lady? Why didn’t you ask to be brought immediately to the fort?”
“There were circumstances that made that difficult,” she said, her voice catching.
“What sort of . . . eh . . . circumstances?” Colonel Downing demanded.
No one could know about Night Horse. Especially not this prejudiced colonel and his soldiers. They might try to reclaim Custer’s Indian scout.
“His mother was ill,” was all she could say, and it wasn’t a lie. When she had first arrived at the village, Brave Wolf was concerned about Pure Heart’s health. It had turned out that her illness was mainly worry about her younger son.
“What did that have to do with anything?” Colonel Downing said, then shrugged. “Never mind. The fact is you are here. You are asking for our help. And, young lady, I think you’ve been through enough. I’ll give you my support the best I can. I will send several men out soon to search for your son. Tomorrow. Describe him to me.”
“He is only five. He has blond hair and blue eyes, and he is the sweetest young man you’d ever want to meet,” she blurted out. She leaned forward. “Sir, please find him for me. Please?”
“We here at the fort will give it our best shot,” he said. He rose from the chair. “I’d best get you to a cabin. You can relax there. And I’d stay out of view of the men. What you’re wearing makes for not only conversation, but accusations you might not want to know about.”
Mary Beth could feel the heat of a blush rush to her cheeks.
Did he know more than he was saying? Could he tell that she had been intimate with an Indian?
“Come with me,” he said, rising from his chair. He rested his cigar on the ashtray and reached a hand out for Mary Beth. “I wish I could offer you a dress, but there are no women here. We’ve learned that it is not good to have women on the fort premises. I don’t like having them to worry about should Indians decide to attack.”
“I understand,” Mary Beth said softly. “And I appreciate your kindness in offering me a place to stay. I am so grateful you will send out a search party for David.”
Mary Beth was again aware of eyes following her as she stepped out into the open courtyard. She couldn’t get to the privacy of the cabin soon enough.
“This is used for any overnight visitors who happen along,” the colonel said when they reached the cabin. He opened the door and stepped aside, gesturing with a hand for her to go on in ahead of him.
She stepped past him and looked slowly around her. The room was nice. It was clean. It was sparsely furnished with a chair, bed, and table, but it was adequate. She didn’t plan to be there for very long.
“I’ll leave you now,” he said. “I hope you find the room comfortable enough.”
He gave her a half salute, then left her alone.
She closed the door and leaned against it. The colonel’s attitude made her feel as though she had just been put through a torture chamber.
But at least the colonel had agreed to search for David. She could withstand anything for any amount of time if in the end she had her son again in her arms.
Yet she couldn’t forget the men’s eyes as they’d stared almost accusingly at her. She now felt afraid, for she remembered tales of how white women who were rescued by the cavalry after they had been with Indians were treated like dirt.
She stared at the bed. She was almost afraid to fall asleep.
She wanted to leave, to go where she felt safe . . . with Brave Wolf.
But she couldn’t. She had no choice but to stay, for at least long enough to see if the cavalry could find her son.
Now that she knew the fate of the wagon train, she knew how lucky she was to be alive. She prayed that David was also still alive.
Keeping her clothes on, even the moccasins, she climbed onto the bed. She curled up and cried again over her son, and for those who had needlessly died.
She cried until her eyelids became heavy and she welcomed the peace that came with sleep.
She was awakened by hands around her throat.
She had slept until it had grown dark outside, yet there was enough light from the full moon shining through the window beside her bed to make out the features of her assailant and discover that he was one of the older soldiers at the fort.
She kicked him in the groin. Groaning and holding himself, he fell beside her on the bed.
Mary Beth grabbed a knife from a sheath at his right side, then leapt from the bed and held the knife between herself and the man.
“Get out of here!” she screamed, her heart thumping wildly within her chest.
He held on to his groin as he climbed slowly from the bed and backed away from her, stopping when he came to the opened door.
“You’re a no-good Injun lover,” he growled. “Just look at you and the way you’re dressed. You’re no better than a savage. You won’t live long, I can promise you that.”
He groaned as he staggered from the cabin, leaving Mary Beth, stunned and afraid.
Chapter Seventeen
From their eyelids as they
glanced dripped love.
—Hesiod
Still holding the knife for protection, and hoping that her assailant wouldn’t pounce on her in the dark, Mary Beth ran from the cabin.
She searched the spots where sentries were usually posted and saw none.
She saw no one!
She had wanted to cry out for help, hoping some soldier would come to her defense. But none were anywhere to be seen.
In the light of the moon, she looked desperately around as she walked guardedly onward. But still she saw no one to assist her. Even the barracks where the soldiers slept were all dark.
The night was as still as death, except for the sudden frightening yelp of a coyote from somewhere outside the fort’s walls.
She recalled what Brave Wolf had said about coyotes . . . that they would still be on earth when man was gone.
It seemed that was true tonight. She imagined a coyote lurking near by, perhaps sniffing out her fear, wanting to be a part of the terror that had her in its grip.
“Brave Wolf,” she whispered as sudden tears fell from her eyes. “If only he were here. I . . . am . . . so alone. I’m so scared.”
When she heard a movement close by in the darkness, she stopped and turned, the knife poised to strike. She imagined that horrible man, whose hands were like a vise squeezing her neck, standing in the shadows, ready to finish what he had started. The skin of her neck burned and ached even now from the man trying to choke the breath from her. Surely his hands had left an imprint that would never go away.
She breathed more easily when a pretty calico cat suddenly ran up to her, purring, then rubbed against her leg as her cat had done at home in Kentucky.
She missed her cat.
She missed Kentucky.
She missed the innocence of the life she had left behind.
“Pretty kitty,” Mary Beth whispered as she bent and lifted it into her arms. “You’ll keep me company, won’t you?”
The cat meowed and rubbed up against Mary Beth’s cheek as she gave it a gentle hug.
Then still holding the knife, Mary Beth stood up again and looked slowly around her as she walked slowly onward.
She was going to tell the colonel about tonight’s incident. Surely he would find the man responsible and throw him in the guardhouse.
Only a coward would assault a woman!
She hurried now with determined steps toward the colonel’s cabin. She saw no lamplight at the windows, which meant that he was surely sound asleep. But that mattered not to Mary Beth. She had to get his help.
She was so relieved that he had treated her decently even though she had seen the doubt in his eyes about what she wore.
Still her explanation seemed to have satisfied him. He had offered her kindness and a place to stay . . . even offered to search for her son.
Breathlessly, she knocked hard on the colonel’s front door, the cat still purring contentedly in her arms. The purring gave Mary Beth a sense of com
fort.
It was the quiet contentedness of her cat’s purring that had always made Mary Beth feel warm inside when something troubled her back home, especially during those first weeks when her husband was gone to a distant land to be placed in harm’s way.
Then her cat had helped get her through the tearful moments while she tried to find the courage to join her husband and tell him news that she knew would greatly disturb him.
“And, Lord, it did, oh, how it did,” she whispered, tears hot again on her cheeks.
As she waited for the colonel Mary Beth looked around the fort’s grounds.
It seemed strange that no wives or children were at this fort, yet perhaps it was a wise decision on the colonel’s part. If Indians did successfully attack the fort, the children and wives would be at their mercy.
The door swung open so quickly, the cat jumped from Mary Beth’s arms with alarm.
She saw it scurrying into the cabin between the colonel’s legs; more than likely it was the colonel’s pet.
“Ma’am?” Colonel Downing asked as he absently ran one hand through his thick, sandy hair; the other held a lighted kerosene lamp. “What are you doing here in the middle of the night?” The moon reflected on the blade of the knife, catching the colonel’s eyes. He stared at it, then looked quickly at Mary Beth again. “Why do you have that knife? Has something happened?”
Mary Beth looked anxiously over her shoulder, then again into the colonel’s questioning blue eyes. “Can I come in?” she asked, fear obvious in her voice.
Colonel Downing stepped aside. “Why, yes,” he said, motioning her inside with his free hand. “Do come in and tell me what has brought you to me at this ungodly hour.”
She brushed past him, glad when he had the door closed, putting a barrier between her and the horrible assailant.
“You are trembling,” Colonel Downing said, holding the lamp farther out so that he could see her better. “Something terrible must have happened to you.”
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