Warrior Moon

by Sara Orwig

  When they rode into Bascom, she was shown the same quarters and, within minutes of their arrival, Dupree entered to face her.

  “You can make the future easy, Vanessa, or difficult. Your father is livid. I think he would like to beat you for running away, but I’ve prevailed on him and told him I would like to marry you. If you cooperate, we can have a good future.”

  She raised her chin. “I’m married now.” She held out her hand with the silver ring.

  Dupree’s lip curled in contempt as he shook his head. “No one recognizes a marriage to a redskin by a white woman. Least of all your father. He would never accept such a marriage. Think about it before you throw away your chance at happiness. In time you will forget the Indian, and I can give you so much.”

  “We have no love for each other. You would be as miserable as I would be.”

  “Your father can help me advance and get where I want to go. That’s what is important. And I’m willing to take you as a wife even after this incident. You should consider yourself fortunate, because not many men would.”

  She raised her chin in defiance. “I’m married. I pledged vows that I intend to keep as long as I live.”

  Dupree’s eyes narrowed, “You’ll regret your stand.”

  “You didn’t keep your word to me to not harm him.”

  Dupree’s blond brows arched. “So you know about the beating. I did keep my promise. I said I’d release him and I did. He lived because of your offer. Right now our manpower is low. If we hadn’t been outnumbered as badly as we were at the battle at Adobe Walls, we would have attacked the winter camp when we came to get you. And if I ever get another chance at him, I’ll finish the job. But the beating was a pleasure and should have caused him pain for days, particularly trying to travel across country.”

  She drew a deep breath, hating Dupree. “We’ll never marry.”

  “You’ll regret your decision,” he snapped angrily. “A few years from now, remember what you could have had.”

  “I suppose my father paid you the reward for Belva and me.”

  “Your father is a very generous man. He paid me the reward for finding all three of you. And he understands my ambitions. He has high hopes that we’ll marry, but you don’t give much thought to pleasing your father.”

  She turned away from him, wanting him to go, remembering the scars across Lone Wolf’s back.

  “Your father brought your things. There are three trunks and I suggest you get out of the buckskin that angers him so much. He’ll be in to see you soon. Look at me, Vanessa.”

  She turned around and he held her by her shoulders, his fingers biting into her flesh. “Think about marriage. You’ll never get back to the Indian. Just remember that life as an officer’s wife will be infinitely more interesting than being locked away in a convent.”

  He turned and left, and she put her hands over her face to cry, missing Lone Wolf dreadfully, feeling in her heart that disaster lay ahead and not wanting Lone Wolf to go into battle for her.

  She wiped her eyes and nose, glancing at the silver band on her finger and touching it lightly, knowing her father wouldn’t accept her marriage either.

  She bathed and changed, dressing in a pink silk, combing her hair. She had no appetite and left dinner untouched.

  A small lamp burned against the dark when she heard footsteps outside. The door opened and her father entered. He had changed and wore a black coat and trousers; his thick blond hair was combed neatly. His blue eyes blazed with anger as he closed the door and faced her.

  She could feel his rage as he glared at her and she steadied herself as he struck her again, the palm of his hand snapping her head around, stinging her cheek. He moved away. “You’re trouble, Vanessa. Nothing but trouble.”

  After a moment, he turned around. “Sit down. We need to talk,” he ordered in a cold voice. “I want to know where Phoebe is. Captain Milos said you put her on a stage for California. You know where she’s staying and you’re to tell me.”

  “Papa, let her have this chance,” Vanessa said. “She wants to sing in the opera.”

  “Great God! Phoebe doesn’t need to go on stage like a saloon singer! She had a chance for an excellent marriage, and you’ve ruined all that! It is only by the interjection of Captain Milos that I don’t beat you, Vanessa. You deserve it for all the havoc you’ve wreaked.”

  Still facing him, she gazed at him calmly, feeling removed from him. He moved impatiently and stared at her.

  “Where is she?”

  “I’ll tell you, but I wish you would reconsider. She has a marvelous voice and singing in the opera is not like singing in a saloon.”

  “I’ll consider it, Vanessa, but it isn’t likely I’ll find it acceptable for my daughter. Where is she?”

  “She’s with friends in San Francisco. Please think about it before you do something.”

  “Now about you, Vanessa. I should have taken you to Denver myself; but I thought with an army escort, you would be delivered safely to the convent. This time I’ll personally take you there.”

  She stared at him, wondering if he had forgotten Dupree.

  “But there is a chance you won’t have to go to the convent. Captain Milos is taken with you and he has asked for your hand in marriage. You have a choice, Vanessa. I would prefer you marry the captain; but you can be troublesome and if you don’t want to marry him, I don’t intend to force you into it. I’ll simply place you in a convent and you will have hours upon end to realize your mistakes.”

  She drew herself up. She held up her hand, and his eyes narrowed as he looked at the silver band on her finger. “I’m married, Papa.”

  “To whom?” he asked, his voice cold and abrupt. She expected him to strike her again when she answered him.

  “To Guipago, Lone Wolf, a full-blood Kiowa.”

  Abbot Sutherland drew in his breath, rage making him clench his fists as his face flushed. “Dammit, Vanessa, I should beat you senseless. The marriage doesn’t exist. It is meaningless except that now the captain won’t want you. So it’s settled. You go to the convent.”

  “Dupree knows and he still wants to marry me,” she said.

  Her father’s blond brows arched as he stared at her. “Dupree still wants you?”

  “Papa, there is no love between us. He wants me as his wife because he thinks you can further his career.”

  “I probably can. And I’d be willing to do so if you marry him.” He tilted his head to study her. “You’re like your mother, headstrong, wild, uncontrollable—yes, I’ll help Milos if you wed. I admire ambition. A man with a cool head who is not ruled by his heart will go far.”

  She walked to a window to stare outside as dark settled. Out there to the east was Lone Wolf. “I’ll never marry Dupree,” she said quietly. “I’m already married.”

  “I think after you spend a few days shut away in these small quarters alone, you may see what lies ahead for you in Denver and change your mind. Either way, I shall be glad to see you placed where you can no longer cause me trouble. And you’ve been trouble, Vanessa, since the day you were born,” he snapped.

  She turned to look at him, knowing at one time she would have been crushed by his words, but now she didn’t hurt because she had another family that was filled with love and someday she hoped she could return to them.

  She stared at her father, feeling his anger as he gazed back at her. He turned abruptly and left, slamming the door behind him. She moved listlessly across the room to stare at the parade ground. As long as she was at Bascom, she didn’t think Lone Wolf would attack. It would be when they started to Denver that the battle would come.

  And what would happen when her father and Lone Wolf confronted each other? She drew a deep breath, knowing that as cruel as her father sometimes was, she loved him. He was her father and she had grown up loving him and wanting his love, and she prayed that Lone Wolf and her father never again crossed paths.

  She turned restlessly, looking around. Three trunks wer
e in the room and she realized her father had packed all her belongings. Had he intended to get her out of his life forever? Again, she realized that Lone Wolf’s love cushioned her against hurt by her father. She could view the trunks calmly without being devastated by them because she didn’t want to return home. She turned the silver ring on her finger, hearing Lone Wolf’s deep voice, “…with this ring, I thee wed…”

  She closed her eyes, pulling memories around her like a cloak that warmed her and protected her from the coldness of her father. She remembered Lone Wolf’s dark eyes on her, his lovemaking, his long body stretched next to hers as he held her tightly against him. She thought of White Bird’s thin arms hugging her and Muaahap’s doting care.

  Vanessa touched a trunk, her fingers slipping over the brass lock. She didn’t want to go to Denver, but she didn’t want Lone Wolf or his kin killed in battle and she didn’t want her father slain.

  The following morning, she heard a knock. When she opened the door, she expected to find Dupree. Instead, it was a private with a tray of food. He handed it to her and hurried away without looking back. She glanced across the parade ground. Her father stood in the doorway of a building and he turned away.

  She took the tray inside, having little interest in eating, but knowing she had to keep her strength up because she was certain Lone Wolf would come to get her.

  Twenty-five

  Lone Wolf squinted down the rifle barrel and lowered it as he cleaned the weapon. He was readying for war, knowing others would follow him when he rode after Vanessa. He paused, looking at the flames in the firepit. What would happen when he encountered Abbot Sutherland? She had said she loved her father—and it would be natural that she did—but Sutherland had been cruel to her. Lone Wolf’s jaw tightened as he remembered that moment when she had reached the top of the canyon, halting on the rim, wind blowing her long red hair. He had seen her father ride up to her and strike her.

  Without thought he had raised the rifle to fire. Chief Wind on Cloud had grabbed the gun and lowered it, reminding him of the others.

  Lone Wolf stared at the flames dancing in the firepit as Muaahap sat on a robe and combed White Bird’s long hair. His thoughts were on Vanessa, fear tormenting him that her father would force her into a marriage with Dupree Milos. Neither her father nor Milos would recognize the Kiowa marriage.

  Lone Wolf knotted his fist, knowing Vanessa would fight a marriage, yet she might not be able to stop it if two determined men intended that she become Dupree’s wife.

  Warriors could not ride into Fort Bascom and get her; they wouldn’t fare well in a direct confrontation at the fort, so he had to wait until someone took Vanessa out. He glanced down at the folded yellow-doeskin dress, running his fingers on it, remembering Vanessa in the dress, in his arms.

  Anger burned in him as he thought about her father and Captain Milos. As soon as the medicine man deemed it the right time, Lone Wolf would lead the war party to get Vanessa back. His heart raced every time he thought of her.

  He left to join in smoking the pipe to get ready for the long ceremony.

  Four days later, it was time to go. With his face streaked with ocher paint, Lone Wolf wore eagle feathers in his hair. He mounted the bay that had red stripes painted for the number of times he had counted coup, and touched an enemy in battle. A handprint on his horse indicated success in combat. Moving ahead, raising his hand with his rifle, he gave a high, rapid call. He glanced back to see the warriors coming behind him.

  Muaahap stood watching him go. As he rode out of camp, Lone Wolf glanced back once at the tipi where he had spent one night with Vanessa. Longing shook him, and he prayed she was all right and that she was not married to Dupree Milos.

  They rode steadily during the day and camped at night, and each day he felt more determined to get her. He was also facing the fact that soon he would clash with Abbot Sutherland and he was not going to be able to hold back his anger toward the man who had struck Vanessa and caused her so much heartbreak, who had paid a bounty to Eyes That Smile’s killers.

  As they approached Bascom, he could feel Vanessa’s presence; he dreamed they were together. He stood while the moon was bright and high in the sky and gazed across the empty land to the west. Soon he would ride to get her, fighting Sutherland, the soldiers, and settling with Captain Milos. They were still at least two days away from Bascom. They would camp while a few of the party rode closer, watching to see if a small group left the fort to take her to Denver. Lone Wolf felt a bond with her, knowing she was his woman no matter what was happening.

  “Vanessa,” he said softly, praying she was all right.

  By the end of the week, Vanessa had made three rag dolls for White Bird. She hadn’t seen or talked to anyone. She had been deliberately isolated because her father thought this would make her want to accept Dupree’s proposal.

  She turned a doll in her hand, looking at its smiling yarn mouth and button eyes and wondering if she would ever get to take the doll to White Bird. Vanessa placed her hand against her stomach, wishing she carried Lone Wolf’s baby now, even though it would enrage her father beyond measure.

  During the middle of the afternoon the next day, she heard footsteps. She looked up from her sewing as the door swung open and Dupree entered.

  “Sewing?” he asked, looking at the material bunched in her lap. “I wondered what you would do with your time.” He crossed the room. He looked strong and full of vigor. He picked up one of the dolls she had made and turned it in his hands. “Making rag dolls. For the future?”

  “Yes,” she answered.

  “You should give some time to pleasing your father.”

  “I gave up long ago trying in every way possible to please my father. Only my brother Ethan can do that. I’m already married. Papa refuses to acknowledge it, but that doesn’t make it any less so. It’s as binding as any marriage.”

  “No, it’s not. You’re joining me for dinner tonight. I still want you for a wife because I know what your father can do. A large home in Washington and a good appointment would be excellent. You won’t inherit from your father because everything is going to your brother; but if we had a Washington home and contacts, think of the chances Belva would have when it came time to marry.”

  “That’s years away! And if my brother Ethan doesn’t like you, you’ll be out of Papa’s favor instantly.”

  “I won’t interfere with your brother Ethan. Far from it.” Dupree crossed the room to her and pulled her up. “I can give you a lot, Vanessa.”

  “And you hope my father can give you a lot.”

  “You have a sharp tongue.” His arm slipped around her waist and she stiffened, pushing away.

  Frowning, he stared at her. “I’ll come to get you for dinner about seven o’clock.”

  “I’d rather not,” she said flatly.

  He shook his head. “You’ll have to—”

  She heard footsteps running outside, and Dupree turned his head as the door flung open.

  “Vanessa! Vanessa!” Belva ran inside, her brown hair swirling across her shoulders. Her cheeks were tearstained and her face was pale. “Come quick. Papa—” She broke off and began to cry.

  Dimly aware of Dupree beside her, Vanessa rushed across the parade ground with Belva. They entered an office and Vanessa paused in the doorway. Her father stood by the window with his back to them, a paper in his hand.

  “Papa?” she asked, startled because he appeared fine. “Belva, what is it?” Vanessa asked.

  Abbot Sutherland turned around, and she received another shock. His face was ashen and tears streamed down it. He held out the paper in his hand and shook it. “My Ethan, my son—”

  She felt a leaden weight, knowing what must be in the letter. She took it from him, seeing the splotches and tear-stains on it, hurting for her father, remembering her blond-haired older brother who had had little time for his sisters and had always been so sure of himself and his endeavors.

  She raised the paper, scanning i
t as she heard Belva’s high voice, “Papa, I’m sorry—”

  “Leave me alone, Belva!” he said sharply.

  The letters seemed to leap out at Vanessa. “…regret to inform you that your son, Major Ethan Sutherland, was killed while fighting valiantly in the line of duty…”

  She lowered the letter and looked into her father’s teary eyes. “I’m sorry, Papa,” she said quietly.

  “Why Ethan?” he exclaimed, shaking his fists. “All my life has been devoted to him. He was the perfect son! Why him? He should have come home to me. I have so many plans for him. And Ethan never complained. He never fought me. He accepted everything I wanted him to do.”

  Vanessa glanced around and saw Belva step outside. She turned back, knowing it was useless to try to comfort Papa or to go to him, because he didn’t want her sympathy or her company. Even so, she felt he needed someone because she had never seen her father sad, hurt, or filled with regret.

  His gaze rested on her, and she felt for a moment that he longed for it to be her the letter was about and Ethan standing in the room with him.

  “All I have left are three girls who are headstrong and troublesome. All my plans for him have died along with him.”

  Vanessa could not think of anything to say to him; she had no words with which to console him. She motioned with the letter. “His body is in Virginia.”

  “I’ll get his body and bring it home. I’ll buy a home in Denver and place his body in the cemetery nearby. I’ll not have my Ethan resting in a burial ground on some distant battlefield.”

  Abbot stared at her, his expression hardening. “So I’m left with the three of you. I’ve already decided to wash my hands of Phoebe, and I plan to send Belva to boarding school.”

  “If you had ever given us the chance, we all wanted your love and we all tried to love you,” Vanessa said quietly.

  His blue eyes were cold as he stared at her. “You’re not even my child, Vanessa.”