Chieftain (Historical Romance) (22 page)

C
olonel
Norman S. Harkins was furious.

The portly commandant, having returned from the inspection tour with General Sherman, had been back at Fort Sill for only an hour.

But it had been the longest hour of his life.

He wished that he had never returned. Wished he was still out on the frontier, blissfully ignorant of what had happened here in his absence. Wished that he could go to sleep and wake up to find it had all been a bad dream.

Alone now in his office, the colonel gritted his teeth until his fleshy jaws ached. His weeping daughter’s shocking disclosure kept ringing in his ears no matter how much he tried to silence it. He shook his head sorrowfully. It was his fault—he was responsible. He should never have allowed his young, beautiful daughter to visit him at this frontier fort. He had to have been out of his mind to suppose that Lois would be safe with wild Indians living within a stone’s throw of their quarters.

Colonel Harkins leaned up to the desk and put his face in his hands. Again and again he had relived those first few horrible moments when he’d arrived back at the fort. Tired and dusty from the trail, he had gone directly to his residence. There he’d been met at the door by Margaret Tullison, the trooper’s wife who had promised to look after Lois. Mrs. Tullison had, upon seeing him, burst into tears, put her hand over her mouth and frantically gestured in the direction of Lois’s bedroom.

His heart
had started to pound painfully when he found Lois, looking pale and wan, still in bed although it was midafternoon. On seeing him, she too had immediately burst into tears. When she’d calmed a little, Lois told him—the words coming out in a rush—that the half-breed Shanaco had brutally raped her.

Then, sobbing and coughing as he put comforting arms around her, Lois related the appalling facts of the brutal assault in vivid detail. She had painted a picture he could not put from his mind. He kept envisioning the dirty, drunken Comanche half-breed forcing the terrified Lois to do unspeakable things, threatening her life if she refused.

Now, alone here in his office, the colonel swore, “I’ll kill him. I’ll have him hunted down and shot like the mad dog he is, Indian chief or no! I’ll have his head on a platter, by God! I’ll see to it that the red bastard never harms another helpless female! I’ll…”

A knock on the door startled him. Colonel Harkins looked up as the sergeant major said, “Sir, the company clerk requests permission to see you.”

“What the
hell does he want?” a scowling Harkins replied.

“Says it’s confidential, sir.”

Harkins exhaled heavily. “Send him in.”

The company clerk marched into the office. “Colonel Harkins, I have the sad duty to report the death of Major Miles Courteen.”

“No! Miles dead?” Harkins repeated in stunned disbelief. “Jesus God, what next? Miles can’t be dead, he…he…” His words trailed away and his flushed face turned ashen at this latest blow.

“Sadly it is true, sir. The major died of pernicious pneumonia minutes ago,” said the company clerk. “I was at his side when the end came.” He leaned across the desk and handed Harkins a sheaf of papers stuck inside a maroon file folder. “Major Courteen’s dying orders were to ‘deliver this file to Colonel Harkins and to no one else.”’

Harkins nodded and dismissed him. The company clerk turned and left. Colonel Harkins placed the file on his desk, wondering what sensitive information could be in the file that it was to be delivered to the commanding officer and no one else.

He tugged at the string binding and had the folder open, but closed it without reading a word when the sergeant major announced Double Jimmy’s presence.

“Colonel, I just returned and thought I’d stop by to…” Double Jimmy began, and was immediately waved to silence by a grim-faced Harkins.

“Sit
down!” the colonel barked, and Double Jimmy dropped down into a chair.

As Harkins pounded his desk to punctuate every sentence, his voice cracked as he related Shanaco’s vicious attack on Lois and of the half-breed’s subsequent escape. Double Jimmy’s eyes widened with shock. He listened respectfully as the livid colonel exploded, swearing loudly. But Double Jimmy didn’t believe for a minute that Shanaco had harmed Lois Harkins.

Harkins ranted and raved, his face growing redder by the minute. Finally concluding, he said, “By God, I hope you’re satisfied now! You and all your Indian-loving bureau employees, always taking up for the savages, always preaching that they are human beings, too, and should be treated with respect! Attempting to civilize them, for God’s sake! See what you get for your misplaced trust! I’ll tell you what you get, a beautiful young girl’s life ruined! My sweet, innocent daughter violated by that animal!”

“Colonel, I am terribly sorry to hear that—”

“I don’t want your sympathy, Double Jimmy! I want action! You’re the Indian agent and responsible for those red-skinned devils! Go on, ride out of here right now. Find that Comanche and bring him to me.”

“Colonel, be reasonable. I told you, I just got back a half hour ago and—”

“I don’t give a damn!” thundered Harkins. “You know his haunts. Go after that half-breed and don’t come back until you’ve caught him.”

Double Jimmy
stared at the fuming Harkins. There was no reasoning with him. The colonel was far too upset to listen. And the last thing Harkins would want to hear was that there was little chance of apprehending Shanaco. Even less of bringing him back to the fort to face punishment.

“Why are you continuing to sit there?” boomed Harkins. “There’s daylight left and you’re wasting it. I want that Comanche beast delivered to me, do you hear?”

Double Jimmy didn’t argue. He rose to his feet and left the office with the angry Harkins shouting after him.

Colonel Harkins finally fell silent, sighed wearily and leaned back in his chair. He sat there quietly for several long minutes. Then finally the maroon file folder caught his attention. He had little interest in what it contained, but it was something Major Courteen thought important enough for his eyes only.

Harkins began to read.

His eyes widened and his jaw went slack. He read the entire file, then read it again. He closed the folder. Jaw now clamped down tight, the colonel sat in stunned silence for a long moment.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. He turned to the bookcase behind his desk. A number of legal reference books were shelved there. Harkins glanced through the volumes and took down one of the books. A heavy, blood-red, leather-bound book: Steven V. Benet’s
Military Law and Courts-Martial.

He placed the
leather-bound book on his desk but did not open it.

His hand lying atop the book’s smooth leather, he summoned the sergeant major into his office and with a sad face said, “Send the company clerk for Double Jimmy.”

T
he first night
Shanaco and Maggie spent at the ranch was a happy one. Since dusk was rapidly descending, they decided to wait until morning to start putting the wreckage right. They had all that was necessary. Fire for warmth, food for supper and bedding to sleep on.

Shanaco gathered wood and built a fire in the grate. The vandals had helped themselves to the stacks of cord wood he had laboriously cut last summer. He collected loose limbs and kindling while Maggie covered the broken windows with strips of the ruined sheets and blankets.

Once the windows were covered and a bright fire blazed in the stone fireplace, they went out to the loaded wagon. Shivering, Maggie pointed out the valises and packages containing items they would most need for the night. Everything else could stay on the wagon and be unpacked later.

“That about do it, sweetheart?” Shanaco asked when he was loaded down, his arms full.

“Mmm. Just one last thing,” Maggie said as she plucked another package from the wagon and placed it atop those he held. “It’s fragile, so be careful,” she warned.

By nine that
night all of the boxes had been opened, the needed articles unpacked and their chores finished.

Time to relax.

They sat cross-legged on a new, soft downy counterpane spread out on the floor in front of the fire. They laughed and talked as they dined on food that had been packed in a large picnic hamper by La Fonda’s hotel kitchen staff. Salted nuts and cheddar cheese and smoked ham and deviled eggs and French bread and fresh fruit and chocolate cake. To wash it all down, they drank chilled wine from the delicate long-stemmed glasses that Maggie had carefully unwrapped.

Enjoying the feast, they talked about their immediate plans for restoring the house. Shanaco assured Maggie he was a pretty fair carpenter. He could repair at least some of the broken furniture and then in a couple of weeks they could go back to Santa Fe and buy a whole houseful of new things.

Soon Maggie was half-tipsy from the wine. She sighed contentedly as she listened to Shanaco speak of his long-term plans to stock the ranch with pure-bred cattle and blooded horses. He promised that once they got the ranch operating, they would build a fine home, big enough for a growing family.

They talked and planned and dreamed. And finally when all the chocolate cake was gone and the wine-glasses were empty and they were warm and mellow and half-sleepy, they smiled at each other and started moving dishes out of the way. Shanaco built up the fire while Maggie began undressing.

When both
were bare, they knelt together before the blazing fire, kissing and vowing their undying love. Soon they stretched out on the feathery counterpane and continued to kiss. Lazy but oh so in love, they made sweet, languid love in the firelight.

Shanaco awakened with the sun.

He opened his eyes, slowly turned his head and gazed at the beautiful flame-haired woman asleep in his arms. He felt his heart constrict in his bare chest. He loved her more than life, but he had done her a terrible injustice by marrying her and bringing her here. She would have no friends. She would be shunned. She would be lonely and unhappy. She would come to hate him for what he’d done to her.

His brow furrowed and his eyes clouded with concern. She would stop loving him. She would leave him one day and break his heart. And he couldn’t blame her if she did.

Shanaco shuddered when Maggie snuggled closer, pressing her bare, soft body against his. And then his heart swelled with happiness when, without even opening her eyes, Maggie murmured sleepily, “Love me even half as much as I love you?”

“Twice as much, sweetheart,” he said, and kissed her.

Working side
by side they began slowly restoring the homestead. Maggie made it a point to be energetic and cheerful. She teased Shanaco, poked fun at herself for her ineptness at cooking and stopped often in midtask to impulsively throw her arms around him and demand to be kissed.

Sensitive to his feelings, she knew Shanaco was worried that she might be lonely and unhappy. She did everything she could to put his mind at ease. She assured him that she had no regrets. She loved him. She needed no one else. She wanted only to spend the rest of her life with him.

But Maggie didn’t delude herself. She realized that they would have only each other, never any friends. They would not be accepted by their neighbors. Would never have visitors stop by to say hello. It made no difference to her. Her one and only regret had been leaving Bright Feather. She missed him. There were times at day’s end when, gazing at the sun setting behind the highest mountain peaks, Maggie missed the sweet little boy so much she had to blink back unshed tears.

The wind whipped across the Oklahoma plains and cut through his heavy greatcoat like an icy knife. Colonel Harkins shivered and hunched his shoulders. Even with his collar turned up, his ears felt like they might freeze and fall off.

Alone in the fort cemetery on that early frigid morning, the troubled colonel stood at the newly dug grave of Major Miles Courteen. Campaign hat in his gloved hands, eyes downcast, Harkins addressed the dutiful career soldier resting there, “Old friend, forgive me, please forgive me. It was a terrible burden that fell on your shoulders and, sick as you were, you discharged your unpleasant duty without question or complaint. Your willingness to meet this awful obligation hastened your demise and for that I shall be eternally sorry.” Tears sprang to the colonel’s eyes and he choked when he added, “I will set these matters right, old friend. I will do what has to be done, no matter how hard, just as you did.”

Colonel Harkins
put on his campaign hat, squared it on his head, drew himself up and smartly snapped off a military salute to his fallen comrade.

Pivoting about, he walked away as the sun rose over the awakening fort. He went directly to the administration building. There in his private office, he closed the door and took off his campaign hat, heavy coat and gloves.

He circled the desk. He unlocked the bottom drawer and took out the maroon file folder. The file that Major Courteen had ordered delivered upon his death.

Colonel Harkins placed the folder on his desk.

No need to read it again. If he tried, he could never forget what was in it. Every damning word was etched on his memory where it would stay forever.

Colonel Harkins sat down in his chair, leaned back and closed his eyes. He felt old and uncommonly tired. His chest hurt. He suffered palpitations of the heart. He clutched the chair arms tightly and again choked back tears as he recalled that terrible moment when he had first opened the file and read every shocking word.

There it was
in black and white. In his absence, Major Courteen had conducted a secret hearing regarding the events surrounding Lois’s alleged rape and Shanaco’s subsequent punishment at the hands of Captain Daniel Wilde and four subordinates.

Major Courteen had, immediately after the hearing, sent regimental surgeon Ledette to the colonel’s residence to examine Lois. Over her fierce objections, the surgeon had carried out his orders. Doctor Ledette reported in writing that “upon my thorough examination of Miss Lois Harkins, I found no evidence of forced penetration. Furthermore, it is my firm belief, based on years of experience and observation, that the superficial bruises to Miss Harkins’s body were self-inflicted.”

Then came the sworn deposition of C. C. Sweeney, the proprietor of the general mercantile store. Sweeney testified that on the evening in question, Thursday, November 18th, Miss Lois Harkins did not—at any time—come to his store to purchase a tin of pain tablets or anything else.

Sitting alone now in his office, the heartsick colonel blamed himself for everything. It was all his fault. He should never have allowed Lois to come out to the frontier. He loved his daughter, but in his heart, he had known what she was all along. A lovely, deceitful temptress. Just like her mother. Just like the beautiful woman who had broken his heart so many years ago.

Blood had
told. They were two of a kind, mother and daughter. Selfish, spoiled, determined. Desirable, wily, dangerous.

It was not easy to admit, but Lois was a heartless liar. A spoiled, vengeful young woman who thought nothing of wrongly accusing an innocent man of rape. All because the man in question couldn’t be easily conquered by her feminine charms as most men were.

As Captain Daniel Wilde had been.

Wilde would have to pay.

Loathe Shanaco though he might, the half-breed was innocent.

Colonel Harkins pushed back his chair, rose and turned to the bookshelves. Once again he took down that blood-red leather-bound book,
Military Law and Courts-Martial.