Cheyenne Captive (47 page)

But Iron Knife hardly noticed what went on around him. He only wondered if a white man now made love to Summer Sky and wherever he looked, he seemed to see her lovely face.

There were two things about himself that he had always kept from everyone
, Austin Shaw thought as he sat across from Summer and Mrs. O’Malley on the train headed toward St. Joe.

Number one was that he hated his mother. Number two was that he was psychic and occasionally saw things in his mind that were happening elsewhere or would happen sometime in the future
. He never told even his closest friend, David Van Schuyler, about this phenomenon. It always made him think with trepidation of the family’s ancestor who had been hanged as a witch.

As the train headed west, he had a lot of time to think about these two things since Summer seemed withdrawn. The Irish maid rambled on and on as she knitted, never giving him time to comment.

He’d never dared tell anyone how he really felt about his mother despite his solicitous behavior toward her. Austin sometimes wished she would die and leave him in peace but he felt guilty about having such thoughts. Austin was certain well-brought-up, respectable men from Boston should not dare to think such terrible thoughts. Besides, he’d once had a sudden vision of his mother as a very old lady placing flowers on his grave. He was determined to outlive her and have the last laugh after all.

Summer said almost nothing the whole trip, staring out the train window while she fiddled with the gold locket she always wore. Her silence seemed to deepen as they transferred to the stagecoach that carried them on to Fort Leavenworth.

Finally, the two of them sat across from the fort commander, Colonel Burton, who reminded Austin of a nervous little terrier dog.

The colonel looked at the papers in his hand. “Yes, Lieutenant Shaw, I’ve been sent orders concerning your mission.” He rattled the papers and frowned. “I would say by these that your family wields considerable influence in Washington.”

Austin felt the flush creep up his neck above the blue uniform. He cleared his throat, a defense mechanism he had acquired as a child to give himself a few seconds to pull his thoughts together. “I guess one would have to say my father does have a few friends at the nation’s capital.”

“I’m instructed to give you a sergeant, a scout, and a patrol so you may search the western borders of this territory, Arapaho County, for your missing brother.”

Why did he feel the implied criticism?
He was hypersensitive to criticism since that’s all he ever seemed to get from his mother.

Nervously, Austin felt for his pipe. “Do you mind if I smoke?”

Both the officer and Summer shook their heads.

“My brother came out here with the Massachusetts Emigrant Aid Society,” Austin said as he filled the pipe with Lone Jack tobacco. “I was afraid he wouldn’t stay put very long before farming got too dull and he went looking for excitement.”

“I understand that particular group has spent five million dollars bringing antislavery settlers in here.” The colonel pursed his lips. “And well-meaning preachers like that Henry Ward Beecher are taking up collections to send in
Beecher’s Bibles.’”

Summer raised her eyebrows in curiosity and the colonel explained. “That’s what we call those high-powered Sharps rifles the Northerners are sending in to help the antislavery faction. However, some of those would-be settlers are finding the gold rush more exciting and heading toward the Rockies.”

Austin puffed his pipe, giving his nervous hands something to do. “Frankly, I’ve always thought Todd was perfectly capable of looking out for himself. It was my mother who was about to have a heart attack over his safety.”
He wondered if the tables were turned, would Mother prevail on Todd to come looking for him? Probably not.

Summer frowned. “But aren’t those thousands of people digging in that area creating trouble with the Indians?”

The colonel snorted. “Miss Van Schuyler, any time now we can expect a major Indian war to break out because of this wholesale trespassing into the hunting grounds! Of course, Representative Curtis from Iowa is already suggesting to Territorial Governor Denver that what we need to do is take that area away from the tribes and create a whole new Territory out of what is now western Kansas’s Arapaho County. He wants to call it ‘Jefferson Territory’, but some of us like the name ‘Colorado’ better.” He sighed and shifted in his chair. “Curtis has a son at the Cherry Creek diggings.”

“But what about the Indians?”

“What about them?” The officer looked tired and defeated. “We’ll do the poor devils like we always do; make them sign a new treaty and push them a little farther west.”

Austin smoked and watched her troubled face. She seemed unusually sympathetic to the savages after what they had done. The memory came back of that day late in the afternoon last autumn. Austin had been seated at his desk in Washington when he had had a sudden, crystal clear vision of Summer naked on a riverbank, arching herself with abandon against a muscular, bronzed man. The flash was so strong, he could feel the heat and passion between the two. Sickened at the vision, he’d had to go back to his quarters for the rest of the day.

Now she played with the chain of the little gold locket. “We have reason to believe my fiancée’s brother is somewhere around the Cherry Creek area.”

“If I may be so impertinent to say so,” the senior officer tapped his fingertips together, “what with the Indians, the miners, and the Jayhawkers, western Kansas and the Rockies are no place for a white woman!”

“My mother thought Miss Van Schuyler might be of some assistance.” Austin cleared his throat. “She does speak some Cheyenne and sign language.”

He saw the sudden curiosity on the other man’s lined face, and knew also he would not be impolite enough to ask about it.

Austin himself had asked no probing questions about Summer’s sojourn among the Indians. Other than the one vision, he had no clue as to why she seemed to have changed so much and he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know. As always, he felt guilty because he had bowed to his mother’s wishes instead of marrying the girl last summer. It was not only ridiculous but embarrassing to him that the girl had gotten herself mixed up in that silly suffragette protest. Certainly, as his wife, she would conduct herself with proper decorum although he had to admit her spunky, spirited behavior was what had always attracted him to her.

“Really, Colonel.” Summer interrupted Austin’s thoughts. “Isn’t all this newspaper publicity about
Bloody Kansas’ a trifle overdone?”

“No, my dear young lady, it isn’t!” The man looked impatient as he drummed his fingers on the desktop. “I’m sitting on a powder keg that the army’s been trying to keep from blowing up for several years now. You obviously don’t understand how high feelings can run over the slavery issue!”

“But I thought the Missouri Compromise forbade slavery this far north.”

“It did.” The colonel nodded. “But the Kansas-Nebraska bill in Congress opened up the possibility of this Territory coming into the Union as a slave state. The resulting senators and representatives from Kansas would be able to swing many important votes in Congress one way or the other since power is fairly evenly divided now.”

Puzzled, Austin puffed his pipe and enjoyed the aroma of the tobacco. “But surely there aren’t many slaves in Kansas. Why don’t they just let the settlers vote on a Constitution and decide for themselves whether Kansas will come in as a slave or free state?”

The officer smiled faintly and shook his head. “We’ve already voted; several times. Both sides stuff the ballot boxes and a United States senator from Missouri, Atchison, makes no bones about bringing men across the line to vote in our elections. Add to those two factions the outlaws, Jayhawkers, and a few thousand hostile Indians, and you see what I’m dealing with!”

“Has there been much bloodshed?” Summer asked.

Colonel Burton snorted. “Bloodshed! First, the proslavery bunch sacked the town of Lawrence. Then that crazy John Brown led the other side to murder some proslavery settlers over on Pottawatomie Creek! He’s dropped out of sight right now although we’re looking for him! No telling where he’ll turn up or what he’ll do next!”

“The unstable situation out here is what prompted my family to send me looking for my brother Todd, and also,” he smiled faintly at Summer, “he’s to be best man at our wedding!”

“Congratulations,” the colonel said shortly and Summer looked away, not meeting Austin’s glance. “Anyway, Lieutenant, I’m already short on men so I’m afraid the men of the patrol and its sergeant, Meridith, are a little green, but I’ll give you the best scout on the whole frontier. He was just transferred to Leavenworth before Christmas and—”

There was a sharp rap at the door. “Come in,” the colonel ordered.

A man entered—one of the biggest, ugliest men Austin had ever seen. His beard was gray-streaked. A bald, pink scar above his tangled, shaggy hair could barely be seen under the western hat with two feathers in the brim. Austin wrinkled his nose at the rancid smell of the man’s rough clothes and fur vest.

He heard Summer’s quick, shocked intake of breath and glanced over at her, puzzled as he stood to be introduced to the newcomer.

“Miss Van Schuyler, Lieutenant Shaw,” the senior officer gestured. “This is your scout, Jake Dallinger.”

“Lieutenant.” The other held out one big paw and Austin hesitated only a split second before shaking it. He wouldn’t want to offend the man, but the hand looked dirty.

“I believe the young lady and I have already met.” Dallinger doffed his hat humbly.

Austin’s sensitive psychic antenna picked up unbelievable waves of hostility and anger as he glanced with curiosity toward Summer. But her face was a closed white mask, betraying nothing.

“Yes, I believe Mr. Dallinger was part of the cavalry that took me out of the Cheyenne camp,” she said crisply with a slight nod in the man’s direction.

Austin hesitated, wondering why she should feel anger toward the man who had rescued her. He had a sudden premonition that he should grab Summer’s hand and hurry back to Boston as fast as he could. Great waves of sadness and feelings of danger washed over him. He dismissed the mental warnings with a shrug. His forewarnings were not always accurate and, besides, he cowered at the idea of facing his irate mother without his younger brother in tow.

“You’ve been told about our mission?” Austin asked.

The scout nodded, fumbling with the brim of his hat. “Beggin’ yore pardon, sir, but we ain’t got a snowflake’s chance in hell—Excuse my language, miss. But they do say there’s almost a hundred thousand men out there diggin’ for gold, hopin’, to strike a bonanza!”

Austin cleared his throat and sucked his pipe. The fire had gone out. “Mother suggested we could get word around the gold camps quickly if we posted notices everywhere that there’s a sizable reward. I’ve brought almost a thousand in gold with me!”

The scout whistled. “If any white man’s seen him, that’ll loosen their tongues for shore! But if Injuns got him, you can forget it! Them savages would take gold pieces and use them for necklaces and hair decorations!”

“Just because you haven’t heard from your brother in a while,” the senior officer glared at the scout, “doesn’t mean the Indians got him! Communications out of that wilderness are poor and he may just be too busy to try to get a message out.”

“Beggin’yore pardon, sir,” the scout said, “iffen we’re leavin’ early in the mornin’, I better go see about the gear and supplies.”

“Dismissed,” the colonel said, standing up himself as the scout nodded to Summer and Austin, then withdrew.

“Now, Lieutenant,” Colonel Burton said. “Allow me to show you and your young lady a tour of the local sights around the fort . . .”

Summer remained tight-lipped and remote all evening although she was obviously attempting to be polite. Several times Austin had a feeling she was going to mention something, something she wanted to talk about. Somehow, his sixth sense warned him it had to do with the Indian experience and the big scout, Dallinger.

Whatever it was, Austin knew it was something he didn’t want to hear, didn’t want to admit even to himself. So all the rest of the day he was careful not to be alone with Summer. Even at supper that evening, he kept up a constant, nervous prattle to discourage her attempts to tell him whatever it was she wanted to share and he didn’t want to know. Finally, she retreated into a moody silence and he felt guilty relief as he watched her at supper. If he never let her put it into words, maybe it had never happened, didn’t exist. It was cowardly of him, he thought as he watched her toy with her food, but he didn’t want to know why she obviously objected to and didn’t want the company of the big scout.