by Connie Mason
“I’ll be waiting to walk you home,” Goodman called to her departing back.
The meeting went well. Shannon learned that Anna Dickinson, famous suffrage leader, promised to travel to Cheyenne in the near future to speak on behalf of women’s rights.
“The women’s rights issue is a controversial subject at the present time,” Molly told the group assembled, “though truth to tell, there is little opposition to the movement in the state legislature. There are so few women in Wyoming that most men foolishly discount our impact upon politics.”
“Our influence out here on the Western Frontier is very different from Eastern sisters’,” Carrie Lincoln, a young major’s wife, contended. “You all remember how it is back East. Women are modest, submissive, educated in genteel and domestic arts. A wife is rarely heard outside the family circle. She is a private person, never public.”
Everyone nodded in agreement as she continued. “On the western frontier women are the mainstay of the family. We work the fields beside our men and have opinions of our own.”
“I’m certain most men now realize that women’s lives have changed and broadened and that change is necessary if the frontier is to be conquered and civilized,” Molly said sagely.
“Yes,” agreed Sarah Hanks, another suffragette. “Women establish schools and churches to help tame the frontier. States do not provide financing for schools,” she said bitterly. “It is the Ladies Aid Societies that raise money and make it all possible. Indeed, I’ve heard tell that even dance-hall girls show up at some meetings for women. Our ranks are open to all.”
“But there are men in Wyoming against allowing women to vote,” Shannon spoke up. “They cite the harm we could do at the polls. They argue that homes and families will be ruined, women unsexed, and divine law disobeyed.”
“Yes,” Molly agreed, “but fortunately the Wyoming legislature agrees that the benefits to our sparsely populated state far surpasses the drawbacks. Mark my words, ladies, the women’s rights ammendment will pass the legislature and very soon we will be allowed to vote and hold office.”
When it came time to leave, Claire Greer raised such a ruckus over Lieutenant Goodman acting as escort to Shannon that Shannon declined his company on the short trip home. When Molly offered to provide another escort, Shannon politely refused, since she had walked home many times in the past without mishap.
“I’m sorry about Claire, dear,” Molly apologized as Shannon stepped outside. “I’d forgotten how possessive she is of Lieutenant Goodman. It was remiss of me to send him in the first place.”
“Claire has nothing to worry about, Molly,” Shannon assured her. “I despise the man.”
“Aren’t you being a little hard on him, dear? He only did what he felt was right. I don’t like to see innocent people killed either, but we do what we must.”
Shannon chose not to respond as she bid Molly a hasty good-bye and hurried off across the parade ground. It was already ten o’clock and she worried that Blade might have arrived and become upset when he found her gone.
Blade sat hunched behind a clump of bushes several yards from the rear entrance to the trading post. Major Vance wasn’t to relieve him until eleven, freeing him to go to Shannon. Blade wasn’t certain how much longer he could keep up this pretense. He wanted to claim Shannon for all time, wanted to let the whole world know she was his. But Wade Vance had convinced him to wait until they had their man behind bars, that Shannon was already in enough danger without announcing to everyone that she loved a half-breed. Vance argued that people would likely shun and ridicule Shannon if they were to marry now. School teachers held a special place in the community and were expected to project an untarnished image to their pupils.
Suddenly Blade tensed, every instinct alert. His sharp ears picked up a rustling in the bushes behind him. Then he relaxed, thinking that Wade, knowing how much he wanted to be with Shannon, had arrived early to relieve him. It was the first serious mistake Blade had made in a long time, and it nearly cost him his life.
“You’re early, Wade, but I can’t say I’m not glad you’re here.”
Blade glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see Vance hunkering down beside him. By the time he recognized the glint of moonlight on the knife blade it was too late to do more than twist his body so that the point missed that vulnerable spot on the back of his neck and buried itself instead deep in his shoulder. Blade spun around to confront his assailant, his own knife unsheathed and ready. To his chagrin he faced nothing but air, for his attacker had already melted into the shadows. Blade tried to rise, grunted in pain, then tried again. This time he made it to his feet and staggered forward. He reached the street in front of the trading post and fell to his knees.
Shannon hurried across the square, for some reason apprehensive. She wished now that she had allowed Molly to provide another escort. A prickling sensation slid down her spine. Was someone following her? Casting a furtive glance over her shoulder, she saw no one. The street was deserted. Her imagination was working overtime, she told herself with a nervous laugh. Suddenly she saw someone stagger out from behind the trading post, and froze. It looked like—it was.
Blade! Something was wrong with Blade! Blood rushed to Shannon’s frozen limbs as she lurched forward, but in so doing tripped over her long skirt, stumbled, and fell. Just as she hit the ground, an explosion rent the night air and a bullet went whizzing harmlessly past her head. If she hadn’t fallen, she would surely have been killed!
Blade heard the shot and knew immediately what it was and what it meant. He had seen Shannon approaching and realized that whoever had tried to kill him also wanted Shannon dead. Mustering what little strength he had left, he staggered to where Shannon lay on the ground a short distance away. He assumed she’d been shot and howled in outrage. Great waves of relief washed over him when she rose unsteadily to her feet, looking confused but unhurt.
“Blade, what happened?” Shannon asked, bewildered.
“Someone tried to kill us,” Blade said with difficulty. He was growing dizzy now from pain and loss of blood, though fortunately his wound wasn’t lifethreatening.
With the last of his waning strength Blade pulled Shannon into his arms. “You’re hurt!” she cried. Her hand came away from his back wet with blood. “I’ll take you home, it’s only a few steps to my house.” She placed an arm around his waist to support his sagging weight.
They had taken but a few steps when Major Vance suddenly appeared at their side. “What in the hell happened here? I was just on my way to relieve you, Blade. I heard a shot. Is anyone hurt?”
“Someone shot at me,” Shannon offered tersely, “but I don’t know who it was.”
“What is the matter with Blade?” By now Blade was leaning heavily against Shannon.
“Stab wound,” Blade gasped, rousing himself sufficiently to explain. “My fault, let my guard down. I thought it was you coming to relieve me. Sorry.”
“Here, let me help,” Vance said, taking the burden from Shannon. “Where were you taking him?”
“To my house. It’s just a few steps away.”
Shannon unlocked her door and stepped aside while Vance eased Blade inside.
“Take him to the bedroom,” Shannon said crisply.
After carefully inspecting Blade’s injury, Vance pronounced him in no danger of dying. Already the blood had congealed around the edges of the jagged wound.
“You’re lucky,” he told Blade. “I’ll send the doctor around, because the wound needs disinfecting and stitching. Did you see who did it?”
“No,” Blade said weakly. “He was gone before I got a look at him.”
Vance frowned worriedly. “It appears that our man now knows you are a government agent, Blade. He probably thought it was me lying in wait in the bushes. Too bad it’s such a bright night tonight—he couldn’t help but recognize you. I suspect he received quite a shock when he learned it wasn’t me he was attacking.”
“I fear you’re right, W
ade,” Blade concurred. “Our man is cunning as well as dangerous. Now he knows we’re both on to him.”
“Don’t try to talk anymore, Blade. I’m on my way to get the doctor.”
“Don’t bring him here!” Blade insisted, trying to rise from the bed. “I can’t be seen at Shannon’s house in this condition.”
“It makes no difference now, Blade,” Shannon observed. “I’m tired of sneaking around. I told you before I’m not ashamed of our love.”
Blade looked appropriately grateful but unmoved. “Wade can help me back to my quarters. At the outside I’ll be laid up a day or two. I’m determined to catch this man, Shannon. Until then we must be patient. One day we’ll be together as we want to be.”
“Major Vance, I’d like to speak to Blade in private,” Shannon requested. “Would you wait in the other room, please?”
While Vance cooled his heels in the small parlor, Shannon lit into Blade. “I don’t care what people say. You’re as much white as you are Indian. I love you.”
“God knows I love you, Little Firebird, never more than at this moment. But I have a job to do before we can be together. I made a commitment to the president that I aim to fulfill. If Mad Wolf didn’t have those guns, he might never have raided that wagon train. And Goodman wouldn’t have retaliated by attacking Yellow Dog’s village. Honor demands that I avenge all those senseless deaths and bring those responsible to justice.”
“Is revenge more important to you than I am?” Shannon asked quietly.
“Shannon, you misunderstand. Nothing is more important to me than you, but this matter goes far beyond what we feel for one another. It isn’t just a thirst for vengeance I crave, but justice. And I fear for you, Little Firebird. I’m not going to place your life in jeopardy by involving you in this any more than you already are. Now that my identity is known, the danger will be even greater.”
“We can face anything if we are together,” Shannon stated with quiet dignity.
“I can’t take that chance.”
“Blade, unless you stop this charade where we’re concerned, we’re through. I can’t go on like this. I hate sneaking around. I hate pretending.”
“Damnation, Shannon, you don’t mean that!”
“Every word.”
“I’m sorry, Little Firebird,” Blade said, his voice ripe with regret. “I’m convinced my way is best. If only you’d—” A groan of pain prevented him from finishing the sentence, reminding Shannon that he was wounded and needed immediate attention.
Very calmly, almost too calmly considering her breaking heart, Shannon walked to the door. “Major Vance, you can take Blade back to his quarters now.”
“Shannon, I—”
“Please don’t say any more, Blade.”
Then Vance came in and Shannon stood aside while Blade was helped to his feet and led out into the crisp night air. Before darkness swallowed him up, he glanced over his shoulder at Shannon, his eyes so filled with anguish and mute appeal that Shannon nearly capitulated. But her upbringing demanded she stand firm in her conviction. How could a love like theirs be wrong? Why should it be hidden, as if she were ashamed of Blade and his mixed blood?
When two people loved, nothing mattered but being together, and everything else be damned. Though she didn’t doubt Blade’s love, his thinking was seriously flawed. Until he came to his senses Shannon wasn’t budging. Unless Blade was ready to openly acknowledge their love, she was prepared to deal with a life without him. She wouldn’t like it; life without Blade would be like no life at all. But it was better than pretending their love didn’t exist.
Chapter Seventeen
Blade’s wound healed rapidly, just as he’d predicted. Shannon saw him ride out with a patrol a few days later and was amazed at his stamina. With spring finally upon the land, Indian activity had increased and patrols went out regularly to make the trail safe for emigrants. The first wagon train would be arriving in a matter of weeks. But even before that, travelers could be expected at the fort; some would stay, others travel on to different destinations.
One of those who arrived early, traveling with a party of buffalo hunters who stayed a few days and moved on, was an Englishman named Nigel Bruce. Bruce had been sent abroad by his parents with a monthly remittance to sustain him during his long absence. There were many “remittance men” in America, most biding their time until they were allowed to return home. A few were guilty of grievous crimes in their homeland, while others had merely disgraced their families and were shipped abroad until the furor died down. Such was the case with Nigel Bruce.
Blond and handsome, Nigel’s fondness for gambling, women, and drink—not necessarily in that order—proved his undoing. He had seduced the daughter of a prominent family on a whim, then balked when she became pregnant and demanded marriage. Consequently she threw herself into the Thames, and in so doing lost the child but fortunately not her life. She was shipped off to a convent and Nigel Bruce was quietly sent to America until the London gossips wagged their tongues in another direction and the hapless young man learned his lesson. Making the most of his exile, Nigel vowed to see as much of America as time permitted. He arrived at Fort Laramie in late April, saw Shannon walking across the parade ground, and decided to stick around a while.
Another new arrival at Fort Laramie was Poker Alice, so named for her expertise in the game. A small brunette with huge dark eyes and voluptuous curves, Alice came up from Cheyenne with a wagon load of dance hall girls and enough money to build a saloon. She looked over Fort Laramie with a critical eye, saw Blade striding across the square and promptly proclaimed business opportunities excellent in the maledominated fort.
Shannon saw little of Blade during the following days. Much of the time he was out on patrol or occupied with duties. No further attempts were made on her life, and Major Vance assumed their man was keeping a low profile to avoid capture. Since he was needed elsewhere, Vance dismissed Sargeant O’Brien from guard duty. Vance and Blade also discontinued their surveillance of the trading post. They concluded that Bailey’s partner had somehow learned the gold was out of his reach and had given up on it.
Two weeks after their tempestuous parting, Blade appeared at Shannon’s door one night. It was all Shannon could do to keep from throwing herself into his arms. With great effort she made her voice deliberately cool and remote.
“It’s rather late, Blade. Is there something you wanted?” Damnation, didn’t he know how much this was hurting her?
Blade’s answer was to push past her and barge inside, slamming the door behind him. “We need to talk.”
“Not if you’ve come to persuade me to continue this stupid pretense. I’m not ashamed of our love, why are you?”
“Ashamed? Never!” Blade vowed. “I told you before it’s not the right time to—”
“Will there ever be a right time? You’re no closer now to learning the identity of the gun smuggler than you ever were. Please leave, Blade.”
“Dammit, Shannon, I miss you. I need you. What do I have to do to convince you?”
“Marry me, tomorrow, in the post chapel.”
“I—it’s not in your best interest right now.”
“Good-night, Blade,” Shannon said tightly. “If you’ve come merely to slake your lust, forget it. I’m not making myself available to you. I suggest you try one of those new girls who just arrived. I understand they’re entertaining in their wagon until the new saloon is built.”
“You know better than that,” Blade said with quiet insistence. “What we have is special.”
As if to prove his words he seized her waist and drew her close, lowering his mouth to hers. The fury of his kiss forced her head back, the power of it parted her lips as he staked a harsh claim to her mouth. He wrapped his arms around her, surrounding her with his scent of excited, sexual male. He stole her breath and replaced it with his own. Resisting with all of her might, Shannon decided being in love was frustrating, maddening, painful.
“I want yo
u, Little Firebird,” Blade whispered, nibbling deliciously on her ear.
Shannon felt hot quick tears prick her eyes, and she blinked them away. If she gave in now and allowed him to make love to her, her pride would suffer serious damage. It took all the willpower she possessed to jerk herself from his arms. She had to stop him from doing what her heart pleaded for him to do.
“Please stop, Blade. You’re making this difficult for both of us.”
“You don’t mean that.”
Deliberately she turned her back on him.
“I won’t make love with you. There is nothing more to discuss.”
Flinging her around to face him, Blade’s face grew granite-hard, his eyes remote. He always meant for them to be together, but not until Shannon was damn certain she knew what she was doing by marrying a half-breed. Shannon was impulsive and too damn stubborn for her own good. Someone had to keep a level head when they were together. Her cold denial made him want to lash out at her, to hurt her as she had hurt him by rejecting their love.
“Perhaps you’re right, Shannon. Those new girls did look mighty tempting. Can’t hurt to give one or two of them a try.”
Whirling on his heel, he slammed out the door and into the night, leaving Shannon numb with disbelief.
Shannon met Nigel Bruce quite by accident, or so she thought. Actually, Nigel had been waiting for just such an opportunity for days. He bumped into her during a sudden rainstorm, introduced himself, and offered to share his umbrella, which he never was without, no matter what the weather. At first Shannon was reluctant, but the young man’s intriguing smile and open friendliness quite charmed her.
“Please allow me to see you home, Miss Branigan,” Nigel said once he learned her name. “I’d be no gentleman if I allowed you to get soaked and become ill.” He offered his arm and held the umbrella high over both their heads. Shannon saw no reason to refuse and soon they were chatting quite amicably.