Within two hours, Rebecca had been dressed in her old clothes and was on her way to an unknown destiny. As they lingered for several scouting parties to return to where they awaited news of the troops’ movements and locations, Gray Eagle mussed her hair and dirtied her face. He grimaced as he pulled briars over her arms and legs to make her appearance credible. She bravely submitted to these precautions.
“It must appear you have been hiding and running from us for many days. Near the edge of this forest over there,” he advised, pointing off to the east, “the Cheyenne attacked three wagons two suns ago. The Bluecoats have not seen this yet. When you say these were your people, they might believe you. Tell them you hid beneath bushes by the trail. White Arrow has marked the path to prove your words if they check out your story. Speak of a warrior who paints red and green dots upon his face. He is the leader of the Cheyenne who raided the wagons. You must act hungry, tired, and afraid,” he cautioned Rebecca.
“I will do all you say. Where will the warriors wait for Bright Arrow?”
“There is a big tree near the fort. It grows tall at the side where Wi first shows his face. Send my son there. When you escape, you will also go there. I will tell you words to say if you come near Bright Arrow to let him know of these plans.”
“But he will know all I say,” she said.
He frowned at her, alerting her to her careless error. “Still, there are certain words which will tell him of our plans. You must forget we speak your tongue. These signals will alert him to my trust in you.”
She flashed him a meek look, then listened intently to his instructions. “Mention an arrowwood tree if you speak within his hearing. This will tell him where to meet us. Speak words about truce, travelling alone, pretend you see a hawk above you, and ask which bird you hear singing ghostly songs at night. This will tell him to listen for your coming during the night, to leave alone, and I am waiting nearby. It will also say you are our friend and we have truce. Perhaps you could speak of returning to the man you love. He is bright and alert; he will capture the right words from you.”
“I will remember and do this. If I am discovered after his escape and cannot return to him, tell him…” She turned away from Gray Eagle’s piercing stare, blushing like the fiery sunset. Yesterday they had been bitter enemies; today, she was telling him her innermost feelings!
“Speak, Rebecca. I will give him your words,” he coaxed. His tone said she could trust him. She did.
“Tell him I love him and wish him happiness and safety. Tell him not to worry about me. Make him understand I did what I had to do. If I am slain, do not allow him to endanger his life by avenging mine. I will not dishonor your trust in me, Gray Eagle.”
“If you cannot free him in time, tell…”
“No!” she heatedly exclaimed. “Do not even suggest such a thing,” she pleaded, tears filling her eyes.
“Tell him we will pray for his safety upon the Ghost Trail,” he insisted. “Tell him we love him. Tell him I will avenge both his life and yours.”
Her eyes glittered with tears. She smiled. “He is lucky to be the son of Shalee and Gray Eagle. Would that I had been born an Indian and could become a part of your family,” she sadly whispered.
“Return to us, and you will remain in our tepee,” he subtly promised.
“You are truly a great warrior. I am grateful for your words and kindness. I can see how my father would admire and respect you. I wish he were here with us now. Life without him has been very hard and sad.”
White Arrow joined them. “The Bluecoats come this way. We must leave her now,” he stated in Oglala. He smiled at this small girl who was so much like Shalee. Once he had almost won Shalee from his best friend and lifelong companion when the noble warrior had been tempted to part with her to prevent his loss of face. If he were not already joined to Wandering Doe, he might be tempted to take this unique girl from Bright Arrow and relieve him of those same torments which his best friend had once endured. But he was content with his Oglala wife.
Gray Eagle told his friend, who had walked and ridden at his side since youth, to make ready to conceal themselves nearby. He faced Rebecca for perhaps the last time, “Be careful, Rebecca. May the Great Spirit guard your life. When it is safe, return to us.” He tenderly caressed her cheek and hurried away.
Rebecca silently offered up a prayer for all of them. She refused to consider what might happen to her if Bright Arrow was already dead, or if she couldn’t find some way to release him, or if she couldn’t escape later, or if these men decided to taste her treats before taking her to the fort with them—if she made it that far…
A resonant voice called out softly from the thick underbrush, “Do not be afraid of them, Rebecca. We will not allow them to harm you. We will follow you to the fort and protect you that far,” he stated as if reading her frightful thoughts.
“Then I have nothing more to fear,” she confidently whispered, preparing herself to confront the soldiers from Fort Dakota in a few more minutes.
Chapter Twelve
Rebecca gingerly flung herself to the ground, assuming a prostrate position of someone who was too exhausted to flee or to even care anymore. Her shoulders drooped in despair and fatigue. Her face was partially concealed by a flowing mass of tousled auburn curls. Her arms were covered with dust and scratches to aid her image of sole survivor of a gruesome attack by wild Indians. She had not eaten or taken water since yesterday when this terrifying drama began. She appeared every inch the defenseless female in great distress and danger.
Upon sighting her, the sergeant hastily shouted his orders, “Company halt! Draw weapons!” Trying to conceal his apprehension, he called out, “You there on the ground, what ails you? Who are you?” To his men, he hastily advised, “Tighten your ranks, men. This could be a trap. Stay alert and ready.”
At the sound of his voice, a lovely, but dirty, face slowly glanced upward. Terrified eyes scanned the troop as if doubting their reality. “You’re soldiers,” she exclaimed weakly. “I thought…you were them…come back to kill me, too.” She then began to sob and babble hysterically, her real fears making this quite easy for her. “Indians attacked us. Killed everyone…so much blood…All alone…Help me…We haveta hurry. They’ll come back! They’ll kill us!” she shrieked in frenzied terror.
Eyes sweeping the tree-line and ground, the sergeant cautiously urged his horse forward. She pulled herself to her feet as if she barely had enough strength left to accomplish this small feat. “Who attacked you? Where’d you come from?” His lazy eyes inched over her from chestnut head to bare feet.
“Back there somewhere,” she sadly offered through dry lips. “I’ve been running…and hiding for two days. My father…” She began to weep uncontrollably. As if unable to support her slender frame in her weakened condition, she sank back to the ground upon her knees. She covered her face with dirty, scuffed hands. She wept. What if they didn’t believe her? What if her love was dead? What if this was a cunning betrayal and Gray Eagle slaughtered each of them?
“How’d you get away from them Injuns?” he asked suspiciously. His wary gaze searched the dense growth of trees for any movement and the ground for any clue to undesirable company. Seeing nothing to evoke fear or skepticism, he asked, “What’s your name, girl?”
“Rebecca. Rebecca Kenny,” she stated despondently. “They told us it was safe here. They said the cavalry would protect us. Where were you when they attacked us and killed my family!” she charged.
“We can’t be everywhere, girl! You say everyone else is dead?”
“Yes,” she wretchedly said. “I’m so tired and sleepy. I was afraid to close my eyes. There’s wild animals here,” she craftily selected what she presumed was the natural thing to say.
“Come with us, miss. You’ll be safe at the fort from them devilish redskins,” he declared, devouring her entrancing features and curvaceous body.
“What about my family? You can’t just leave them there unburied. I do
n’t have any clothes or anything,” she murmured in dismay. “I couldn’t go back there, even for food or a gun.”
“Don’t you worry none. Ole Zack’ll take real good care of you,” he vowed huskily, chuckling softly. His groin tightened uncomfortably.
“But my family! The animals might…” She began to sob again.
“Sorry, miss, but we can’t stay out here all day. It ain’t safe. Best git you back to the fort. You could use some food and rest,” he coaxed, hoping to be amply repaid for his service and kindness. She was a beauty!
Rebecca astutely comprehended the lewd gleam which filled his eyes. She was definitely safe for now. Like Jake, this lecherous man also wanted some private property. He wasn’t about to share her with his troop. Hopefully the people at the fort would protect her from this lecherous fiend. But if she snubbed him too obviously, he might not let her get that far! She demurely complied.
“You’re right, sir.” She waited for his instructions, feeling Gray Eagle’s keen gaze upon her back. So far, everything was going as planned. Yet, the hardest part still loomed ahead.
“Here, ride with me. I’ll help you up behind. Hold on tight. We can’t have you falling off,” he playfully jested, savoring the tantalizing warmth and sensuous feel of her body.
The ride back to the sturdy fort was repulsive, for Sergeant Zachary Smith would occasionally shift in his saddle to casually press his back into her tender breasts, lewdly wiggling his buttocks against her most private region. She pretended to naively ignore these actions and his stodgy body. She was sorely tempted to pinch the roll of fat which surrounded his flaccid waist, but did not. She tried to mentally block out the foul odor of his sweaty, unwashed body and his horrid breath.
Finally the lengthy ordeal was over. They approached the fort’s lofty gates of slender saplings lashed tightly together. Sergeant Zachary Smith slid off his horse and tied the reins to the hitching post. His lathered horse, weary from bearing the weight of two riders, greedily drank from the trough beside the hitching post. He came back to assist her down. When his clammy hands seemed to linger too long upon her shoulders, she turned to gaze at the sights and scenes around her, forcing his arms to fall away. Not even a scrub tree had been left standing within the barren confines of this large fort.
“Where is the commanding officer’s quarters? I must tell him about my family and the attack. I’ll ask for his assistance and protection here. Perhaps he could send a message to my father’s sister in St. Louis,” she added with feigned childish hope. It was vital she fool them completely. As she spoke to him, she seemed to look listlessly about her.
“We don’t need to bother Lieutenant Moore. He’s got a lot on his mind with all this Injun trouble. You just follow me, miss, and I’ll get you some food and a place to sleep. Ole Zack’ll take real good care of you,” he repeated his prior suggestion, then grinned in lecherous anticipation, hooking his thumbs under his suspenders.
“I think my father would wish me to see Officer Moore,” she timidly announced, pulling her attention from her subtle inspection of the fort to deal with this annoying and persistent man.
Zack took her arm in a firm grip. “Ain’t no need. I know how to take care of this matter. Come along, Miss Rebecca,” he entreated, thinking his authoritative tone would settle the matter for him. It did not.
“You’re hurting me, sir,” she cried out in alarm, needing to attract assistance with this crude soldier.
“Ye hae ae problem ‘ere, Sergeant?” a controlled voice asked, noting the unfamiliar girl with frightened tawny eyes and a dishevelled appearance.
“No, sir. We found this gurl wandering around out there. Says her people were attacked and killed. I was trying to take her for some food and rest,” he sullenly explained, vainly attempting to govern the irritation and disdain in his raspy voice.
“Tae ye quarters, Sergeant!” he commanded. “Bring ‘er tae my office. I’d lik’ tae speak wi’ ‘er myself,” he calmly ordered, denying Smith’s lewd plans for her. A Scottish burr laced his mellow voice.
Rebecca curiously glanced from one man to the other as if confused as to which man and order to obey. She mutely waited for them to inform her. “Come along, miss. Lieutenant Moore wants to talk with you. So he says,” Zack mumbled under his breath as they trotted off behind the giant man with flaming red hair and deep blue eyes who looked much younger than the burly Smith.
Once inside the commander’s office, Rebecca gradually repeated the story which she had memorized. She cried in the appropriate places, feigned nausea in others, and terror in still others. When the tale was completed, she slumped wearily in her chair. “I have kin in St. Louis if you can contact them for me, sir.”
“Nae, that’ll be impossible anytime soon, Miss Kenny. Ye see, we hae quite ae problem wi’ an Indian uprisin’ right now. But dinna worry, lass. Ye’re safe ‘ere,” he confidently stated to foster hope and relief in the delicate creature who sat before his dusty desk.
“But I have no clothes or money, sir,” she wretchedly declared.
“My men will pay for chores. There’s washin’ an’ cleanin’ tae be done. Once ye’ve rested properly, ye kin do my chores first,” he genially remarked, a strange twinkle in his blue eyes.
“Thank you, sir. You are most kind and thoughtful,” she timidly stated, hoping she could be gone before he demanded more than servile behavior from her!
“Sta’ ‘ere. I’ll see th’ cook sends food o’er. I’d lik’ ae word wi’ ye, Smith.” The two men left.
Rebecca was quickly peering out the grimy window. Her heart lurched with excitement and hope as she recalled the secluded location of the blockhouse at the front right corner of the fort. Patience, Rebecca, she cautioned herself.
Her curious gaze settled upon the two men. It was clear they were arguing over something. She wondered if it was about her. The fractious sergeant looked furious with the masterful lieutenant. Smith stalked off in the direction of what had to be the cookhouse. As Moore headed back her way, she hastily returned to her seat before his cluttered desk. She laid her folded arms upon his desk and rested her forehead upon them as one utterly exhausted and dejected.
When Moore entered his office, he thought for a moment she was asleep. He came to stand beside her. When he reached out to stroke her hair, she feared he might astutely realize it was clean and shiny beneath its tangled mess. She lifted her head and cast droopy eyes upon his flushed, passion-filled face.
“Do you have some water, sir? I’m very thirsty,” she asked.
He shook his head to clear it of unbidden lust. He went to a pitcher and filled a metal cup with tepid water. He handed it to her. She greedily consumed the entire cup, then moistened her dry lips. “Thank you again, sir.”
“Na need tae keep thankin’ me, lass. Ye bonny smile does it guid. How auld ’re ye, Rebecca?” he unexpectedly inquired.
“Almost eighteen, sir. Why?” she asked inquisitively.
“Nae partic’lar reason. Jus’ wondered how long it took ae lassie tae get sae beautiful,” he boldly flattered her, then grinned mischievously.
She blushed a deep rose and demurely lowered her gaze. Not knowing what safe or proper statement to make in response, she remained silent. He chuckled merrily. “Such ae flow’r makes ae prize worth dying for,” he vowed huskily.
“Sir?” she questioned naively, her eyes filled with provocative innocence.
“Excuse my forwardness, lass. Tis been ae guid time since I laid eyes ‘pon anythin’ lik’ ye. Where were ye headin’?” he asked.
“I’m not certain, sir. Papa said somewhere near a fort where we’d be safe. I suppose he might have meant here,” she hinted shyly.
The door opened and Zack returned with her food. Moore glared at him. “A’fore the morn, Sergeant, I suggest ye learn tae knock a’fore enterin’ this private office,” he stormily reprimanded the startled man.
Flustered and embarrassed, Smith nearly dropped her dish of food. She quickly glanced aw
ay, also disquieted by the harshness and subtle innuendo in Moore’s voice. She shrewdly realized this man was most disarming, for he had just revealed a streak of hostility which had been previously concealed beneath that roguish charm and gentle manner. He would make a dangerous enemy!
Zack set her dish upon the desk and hastily excused himself. No doubt to curse this mysterious man whom she had vastly misjudged. She ate slowly and carefully, intentionally presenting manners and breeding which might hinder a siege upon her innocence. She would guilefully lead this man to think she was a gentle creature who must be courted before bedded! A man showed no respect or patience with a loose woman, but he might with a lady or someone special…
Moore observed her closely, delighting in what he witnessed and perceived. Unnerved, she glanced over at him and sweetly asked, “Is something wrong, sir?”
“Nae. Why?” he inquired, brow lifted inquisitively.
“You keep staring at me. It makes me uncomfortable,” she confessed, blushing again.
He chuckled heartily. “Sorry, lass. Jus’ canna help myself,” he admitted, a raffish smile brightening his keen blue eyes.
“But it isn’t polite to…,” she defensively began, then hesitated at the right spot to make an artful point. She then stammered dramatically, “I’m…sorry, sir. That was…rude of me. I guess I’m overly…tired and frightened. You’ve been very kind.” Tears filled her expressive eyes, concealing the deceit within them.
“Tak’ ye ease, Rebecca. I understand ye fears an’ doubts. It’s only lookin’, lass. That’s all,” he earnestly stated. Yet, she could imagine him mentally adding, for now…
“You must think I’m terribly ungrateful. I don’t mean to be. So much has happened in the past few days,” she said with despair.
“I know, lass; I know…Tak’ it easy. Nae one’ll hurt ye ‘ere. Come, ye kin rest in my quarters while I find ae suitable place for ye.” Observing the look of sheer terror which flooded her golden brown gaze, he grinned and added, “Ye’er safe, Rebecca. I wad nae hurt ye, lass,” he reassured her.
Tender Ecstasy Page 24