The Bride Wore Feathers (40 page)

"That is a very big wish, my crazy wife."

"I know," she whispered softly. "But I am asking that you do everything you can to make it come true."

Not one to make idle promises, Jacob gazed into her eyes for a very long moment before he finally said, "I will do all that I can,
wi witko.
If I have to go to your uncle on my knees, I will. I give you my word that I will do whatever is in my power to keep us all safe."

This time, when the tears erupted, Dominique's efforts to stop them were fruitless. She tried to turn away from him, but Jacob's grip on her chin tightened and he kept her face within inches of his.

"Why do you find it necessary to do this to me, crazy one? You know how it upsets me."

"I'm sorry," Dominique whispered. "But this time I can't help it. You've just made me the happiest woman in the world."

Jacob released her chin and began brushing the tears from her cheeks. "First you tell me I make you so happy you hurt inside, then I make you happy enough to cry. I fear that one day I might do something that will make you so happy you will drop over dead."

Dominique's sobs dissolved into laughter. She threw her arms around Jacob's neck and pressed her cheek to his. "I love you so much," she breathed into his ear. "No matter what happens, always remember that I love you."

"And I you,
wi witko,"
he whispered back. "You will be with me in spirit wherever I go, whatever becomes of me."

The urge to cry stronger than ever, Dominique abruptly sat up, straddling her husband's hips, and looked around. She blinked, pushing back the tears, wishing a simple blink of her eyes would make her problems disappear as easily, then continued to glance around the beautiful countryside.

The midday sun burned bright, kissing the lush greens of the long grass and low bushes. The scent of late spring and rebirth was all around them even as they spoke of death and the end of life as they both knew it. Dominique trained her vision to the west, staring out at the low grassy hills and benches, and thought of the valley two hundred feet below.

If she ignored that valley, the overwhelming size of the Indian villages, and their ominous threat, Dominique could almost believe that she and Jacob were the only two people on earth. She could forget their troubled future and concentrate only on the present. She had Jacob's promise, knew if there was any way to end this terrible conflict, he would find it. She could ask no more of him.

Her attention caught by the sounds of low, soft nickering, Dominique looked over at the horses. Sampi stood almost protectively at Peaches's side and nipped playfully at her withers. The mare's response was a high-pitched squeal—and a swaying movement that brought her flanks in contact with the stallion's.

Thinking back to the night Jacob had made her his—spoiled her, as he put it—Dominique realized her time for asking was at an end. It was her turn to give. "It seems, my wonderful husband," she said with a mischievous smile, "that our horses have a much better idea of what to do on this beautiful sunny day than we do."

His grin equally mischievous, Jacob said, "I have not run out of ideas where you are concerned, crazy one." Then he pushed up on his elbows, preparing to lift her off his hips, but Dominique pressed her hands against his chest and forced him back down in the grass.

"No," she ordered. "Save your energy for your long ride back to the cavalry in the morning." At his cocked eyebrow, she seductively said, "Since I'm already here, I'd like to practice a few of the things I've learned from riding Peaches. How would you like it if I spoiled you for a change?"

"Oh?" Jacob's eyebrow inched up another notch, but he turned his palms up in submission.

Using exaggerated movements, taking her time, Dominique stretched her arms high overhead and pulled off her buckskin dress. Slowly, almost imperceptibly grinding her hips against Jacob's as he lay expectantly on a bed of grass, she tugged at the satin ribbon on her camisole. Delighted to see her husband's deep blue eyes darken with desire, she ran her tongue across her upper lip as she removed the undergarment.

And then she sat there, acting for all the world as if she had no audience, and allowed her fingers to slide down her breasts and off the tips on a journey to the drawstring of her drawers. Squirming against him, she played with the bow, loosening it the barest inch at a time.

Jacob reached for her. "That's enough," he said gruffly.

Dominique slapped his hands away. "No, it's not. I'll let you know when it's enough."

"Maybe you will," he warned, pressing his hips against her bottom, "and then again, maybe you won't."

"Jacob," she countered as she rose and stepped across his body. "Get a hold of yourself. Let me have some fun."

"You can have all the fun you want, crazy one," he said as he watched her remove her drawers. "I do not know how long you'll have to enjoy it."

Stripped now, Dominique stepped back over Jacob's body. But instead of lying down with him, she stood above him, bracketing his hips with her long legs. She looked down at him, shocked by her own boldness, tremendously pleased by his reaction, and said, "Aren't you a little overdressed, husband dear?"

With a hoarse gasp and a low moan, Jacob fumbled around with suddenly inept fingers as he tore at the rawhide thong securing his breechclout. Unable to turn away from her even for an instant, he let his glassy-eyed gaze follow the curves of her cream-colored legs to her auburn forest, where it lingered, first seeking, then adoring her secrets. His breath coming in short puffs now, the words thick with passion, he managed to say, "If it is your wish to make me as crazy as you are, I think you should know it is working."

Increasingly self-conscious about her indecent posture, Dominique impatiently said, "Have you gone and tied the strings in a knot?"

When he didn't answer, but continued to stare up at her as he struggled with the garment, she slowly sank to her knees, hovering just above his upper thighs. "Here, let me do that."

"No," he muttered. "Stay back—this will keep us apart no longer." Then he reached for his hunting knife, slipping it from the sheath, and cut through the rawhide laces securing not only the breechclout but the holster as well.

"Oh, Jacob," She laughed as he tossed the ruined garment into the furrow. "How are you ever going to get back to the village?"

"I don't know, and I don't care," he said with a tongue suddenly too big for his mouth. "All I care about right now is you. Get down here and teach me this lesson you speak of."

Dominique grinned, inching her knees along the sweet grass, but stopped just short of touching him. "You're sure you're ready for lesson one?"

"You can see that I am, woman."

"All right," she said, her own breathing erratic. "First we'll start with the letter A. A is for Apache. An A is nothing more than a tipi with a lance drawn through the middle. Now, B is for buffalo—"

"Buffalo hides," he threatened. "And if you don't tend to your husband and now woman, you'll be tanning them for the rest of your life."

Her laughter deep and throaty, Dominique slowly lowered herself on the man she loved, the only man she would ever love.

* * *

Later that evening after a supper of barbecued antelope, Jacob and Dominique strolled hand in hand through the Hunkpapa village and headed down to the river.

The sound of the pretty stream, its cold waters trickling a little song as it made its way to the Big Horn River, the gentle rustling of the cottonwood trees in the light summer breeze, all provided stark contrast to the unrest all around them. But still intent on enjoying his wife, of committing to memory what might be their last night together, Jacob sat down on the grassy banks and pulled Dominique onto his lap.

"The Greasy Grass River reminds me of the Black Hills," he commented, struck by nature's bounty.

"Ummmm," she sighed. "It's so peaceful and lazy. If all the streams in the Black Hills are like this, I can't wait for you to take me there. You will someday, won't you?"

"If I can."

Dominique raised her head up from Jacob's shoulder and looked into his eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

"We must make some plans now,
wi witko.
" He took her trusting face in his hands and explained. "After tomorrow, when I return to the cavalry, it may be a long time before I can return to you."

Trying to keep the fear from her voice, the tears from her eyes, she said, "How long?"

Jacob shrugged. "I do not know. I only know it is time for us to make some arrangements for your safety if I cannot be here to take care of you."

"Stop it, Jacob. I don't like the way you're talking to me or the things you're saying. Stop it this minute."

"But I must," he insisted, still holding her face. "Surely you don't want me to go away from here with thoughts of you heavy on my mind."

"No, of course not," she cried, flinging her arms around him and burying her face in the side of his neck. "But please don't talk as if you're never coming back to me. I can't stand to think about that."

"Then don't think at all. Just listen to what I say and promise you will do as I ask." When he got no response, he gently said, "Dominique? You must promise that you will do as I ask."

And finally she did, with a sob she couldn't swallow and a light nod.

"Good, then." Jacob raised his hand to her hair and stroked the silky waves. "If I cannot prevent a battle between your people and mine, you must do all you can to protect yourself. No one will do it for you. Do you understand this?"

Again, a slight nod.

"If the soldiers come into our camp, show yourself and go with them. "

Tearing free of his hands, she sat up. "But Jacob, I'm not leaving here without you.'

"You promised," he put a finger against her mouth. "Listen and do what I say. Go with the soldiers. Understand?"

Through a miserable sigh that was half sob, she said, "Oh, all right."

"The soldiers will be looking for you if they come into camp," he continued. "Some of them hope you are still alive, especially Barney and the uncle you call Boston. I have a very difficult time around them when they talk of you and your unfortunate ordeal."

In spite of her heavy heart, Dominique managed a small chuckle. "I suppose you have to stifle the urge to tell them just how alive I am, don't you?"

Joining her laughter, Jacob pressed his mouth to her hair, whispering, "I believe at least one of them would claim my life if he had that information."

"Please," she moaned, saddened again, "don't even talk about your life in those terms."

Jacob's entire body stiffened at Dominique's words. After easing her to the grass beside him, he quickly sprang to his feet and walked to the water's edge.

Alarmed, Dominique pushed up off the bank and tiptoed up behind him. "Jacob?" she whispered softly. "What is it? What did I do?"

She'd merely pointed out what should have been obvious to him all along. The only way he could hope to prevent this looming conflict, his best chance at convincing either side of the futility of the coming battle, would be to place himself in dire jeopardy. And if he had to go to these extremes in order to keep his promises, there was every possibility they would never see each other again. He would not let what could be their last night together be spent with heavy hearts.

Jacob turned and pulled her into his arms. Rocking her, squeezing her so tight neither of them could breathe, he said against her hair. "Come,
wi witko.
Tonight is ours and we will talk of the future no more. Come with me, my wife. Our tipi beckons."

Chapter 19

Yellowstone River at

the mouth of the Rosebud,

June 21, 1876

"Jesus, Stoltz," Barney remarked as he approached Jacob. "You look like hell."

Raising tired bloodshot eyes to his friend, Jacob shrugged.

Barney sat down beside him on the wooden dock where a steamer, the
Far West,
was tied, and leaned back against a sack of grain. "How come you keep letting the general send you out on these fool missions?" he asked. "You're gonna get yourself killed, that is, if you don't drop dead of exhaustion first."