Thunder on the Plains (44 page)

Her eyes teared. “I'm scared, Colt.”

He took her hand. “You want to know something? So am I. But all I have to do is look into those blue eyes of yours and I know I can take just about anything to be with you.” He squeezed her hand. “And all
you
have to do is trust me, lean on me, and not worry about how I'll be treated. I've been through a lot in my thirty years, Sunny. I can take it.”

She clung to his hand, tears sliding out of her eyes now. “I don't want to leave this place. I've never known such happiness as I have had the last two days. I'm scared I'll never be this happy again.”

Thunder rolled in the distance, and to Sunny it seemed ominous. “We don't have much choice now,” he told her. “Storm's coming.”

Yes
, she thought.
I
feel
it
too.

He gave her a reassuring smile. “I love you, Sunny. That's not going to change. And remember, if you need me, you send me a wire. I might get fired, but I'll come running.”

She managed a light laugh through her tears. “Who's going to fire you? I'm your boss, remember?”

He winked, trying to overlook his own sadness at leaving the place where he had found such happiness, “I guess you're right.” He leaned over more and met her mouth, moving a hand to lightly caress one breast as the kiss lingered. He left her mouth and kissed her tears. “We'd better go before we end up spreading the blanket again. If we do, we'll get caught in the rain.”

She reached out for him, grasping him around the neck, and he pulled her onto Dancer. “Hold me a little longer,” she whispered. “Let me ride with you until we get in sight of the train.” She sat sideways and rested her head against his shoulder. Colt took the reins to her horse and headed up the bank away from the river, through cottonwood trees and out to the sandhills, heading southeast.

They rode for over an hour without seeing a soul, neither of them talking, wanting only to enjoy the feel of their bodies touching, the strength they found in each other's arms. Sunny breathed deeply of his scent, wanting to remember. Colt in turn enjoyed the smell of her hair, and he was sure he would not forget the sweet taste of intimate places that belonged only to him. She had offered herself so willingly, with so much trust and love. Whatever lay in their future, they would always have this to remember, and nothing could change the fact that he had been her first man, first in her heart and first to invade her virgin depths.

They were in love, and it felt good to finally admit it, finally consummate that love, no matter what the odds against it. Bucking those odds could not be nearly as difficult or painful as it had been to try to stay away from each other. It simply could not be done. The attraction, the love, the need were all too powerful.

The storm moved closer, black clouds billowing on the western horizon and coming fast. Thunder again rolled through the heavens, and shortly afterward Colt heard the signal—one long blast and two short ones. It was followed by another signal, and he recognized it was for Quinn Dix, another scout. “You'll have to get on your own horse, Sunny. There's some kind of trouble. That's my signal—and one for another scout. For all we know, we're in danger. We've got to ride hard.”

He gave her a quick kiss and pulled her horse up next to his own. She reluctantly left him and moved onto the black mare. “You're the one who wanted a good ride,” he told her. “Let's get in one more on the way back. Maybe we can beat out that storm.” He kicked Dancer into a gallop, and Sunny followed, her heart pounding, not with fear of trouble, but with dread. The glory and ecstasy of the last two days were ending too quickly now. The thunder on the plains seemed to echo her fear of what was to come.

The black clouds rolled in hard and fast on a high wind that brought the storm quickly as Sunny and Colt approached the construction camp. At least thirty army tents were stretched out in a neat line near the trains, their canvas billowing with the wind, flags flapping. Soldiers' horses grazed farther to the east, a few uniformed men keeping watch over them, having a difficult time keeping them from bolting because of the coming storm. More soldiers milled about the camp, some heading for their tents as a few large drops of rain began to pelt them.

“I wonder what's up,” Colt shouted through the high wind. Stinging dirt lashed at their skin, and they both had to duck against it. “Those soldiers must have arrived yesterday.”

“We sent for them,” Sunny yelled back. “It doesn't mean there's trouble.”

“They wouldn't signal in all the scouts if there wasn't.”

Lightning slashed through the rumbling dark clouds, followed by a crack of thunder that made Sunny's horse whinny and balk. She urged the horse forward, feeling as though the coming storm only signified the storm that lay ahead for her. She had lied to Colt about wanting to go back to Omaha alone. She wanted nothing more than for him to come with her. It seemed that every time she said good-bye to him, it was always months or years before she saw him again. Still, she knew the ugly publicity that lay ahead once she broke her engagement to Blaine, and she did not want him involved in it. At least now she knew just how much she loved him, and that he loved her. She had no doubt in her heart that he would wait for her.

If only they could make love once more, just once more before she had to leave him. She still felt on fire with the want of him, burning inside at the memory of his naked skin touching her own, of letting him see and touch and worship every part of her, of taking Colt Travis in all his glorious manhood inside her own body and giving him pleasure. It all seemed too wonderful to be true, and sometimes she felt like pinching herself to make sure she was not dreaming. Now when she read her old journal entries, she could smile instead of weep, rejoice instead of fantasize.

As they drew closer, it became obvious that daydreaming would have to stop for the moment. Yet another train had arrived, and two men in top hats stood on the platform of Sunny's car, waiting expectantly. They clung to their hats so they would not blow off in the wind. Sunny recognized them as part of Durant's elite ten, a group of the Doctor's top people to which Blaine and Sunny belonged. General Casement was running toward Sunny and Colt with a couple of extra men, who grabbed the bridles of their horses.

“They'll take care of your mounts,” Casement hollered. “Some of Durant's men are here, Miss Landers. We need to talk. Come inside your private car. The scouts are to come too!”

Colt grabbed her arm and they hurriedly climbed onto the platform and followed the two top-hatted men inside, where more men waited, a total of six. They all rose when Sunny entered, and those wearing hats removed them and bowed slightly. One of them, a tall, thin man with hard blue eyes and small, tight-set lips, looked Sunny over with a hint of contempt. Colt caught the look, knew what the man was thinking about her being out riding alone with a scout. He felt an instant defense of Sunny, but for the moment he hung back as Sunny greeted the men.

“I'm glad you were close enough to get back right away, Miss Landers,” Casement told her.

“Yes. Your presence is needed,” the thin man told her, glancing from her to Colt. Colt met the man's eyes boldly. When the man looked away again, Colt scanned the looks on the faces of the others, some of whom were also looking from him to Sunny with smirks on their faces. A few just stared, intrigued by his size and looks.

“What is happening? Why are all of you here?” Sunny asked, still a little breathless from the ride as she shook a few hands. She called out to Mae to go and see about bringing some tea and coffee, as well as a bottle of whiskey.

“The soldiers arrived late yesterday,” Casement told her, “and just in time, I might add.”

Colt moved to stand beside the scout Quinn, who had also been summoned. He could see by the man's eyes that Quinn, too, was wondering about Sunny riding alone with him. There was more a look of curious humor in his eyes than malice, and Colt gave him a scowl. It irritated him that all these men were here when they got back. He knew Sunny had planned on just the normal work crew, not this group of men who were so close to Blaine and who would be full of curiosity and ready with judgment. Colt had to admire her sudden poise and air of authority as she took the only seat left in the elegant parlor car, which seemed suddenly too small now that it was filled with so many people.

“We have an Indian problem,” Casement was explaining. “One of our graders arrived last night on horseback. He was gravely wounded, said three other men are dead. We wired Omaha, and these gentlemen came out in representation of Dr. Durant. They said I should signal in the scouts so we can discuss what to do.”

Mae brought in the drinks, and Sunny quickly became the gracious hostess, offering coffee, tea, and whiskey to the men. Mae poured whatever each man asked for. The men continued to glance at Sunny in curious wonder, and Colt figured it was not just from the fact that she had been out riding alone, but that probably none of them had ever seen Sunny looking quite so plain, wearing only a blouse and a riding skirt, her cheeks flushed from a hard ride—or was it from something else? He wanted her again already, wondering if he could bear to go more than a day without holding her beautiful body next to his own, without invading her again, enjoying her bold abandon, savoring every part of her. He liked her this way, no makeup, no frills, just plain, beautiful, wholesome Sunny.

“According to the surveyor, we have quite a problem,” the thin man said again, apparently considering himself the spokesman for the others. He took a sip of whiskey. “We have a decision to make, Sunny, and Dr. Durant said it has to be made among us six and you. Blaine couldn't make it out just yet.” He glanced at Colt on the last sentence, his blue eyes like ice. “He'll be in Omaha in another three days, but we don't have three days to wait.”

Outside, the storm hit, the thunder making Sunny jump. She glanced at Colt, aching to go to him and let him hold her. How nice it would be if they could be alone, lie in her private bed and hold each other while the storm raged outside. She remembered another prairie storm, when she was in the covered wagon.

“Why the rush, Mr. Canary?” she answered. She looked at Mae. “You can leave us now, Mae. Thank you.”

Mae nodded and hurried off, glad to leave the presence of so much wealth and power but full of questions for Sunny about spending the last two days with Colt Travis.

“We took a train out last night,” Canary answered. “Got here only about a half hour ago. It seems the surveyors laid out a route directly through some Cheyenne Indian burial ground over the winter while the Indians weren't around. Now the Cheyenne have discovered what's been done, and they're furious. They attacked the graders and are camped at the burial ground now, refusing to let us come through.”

“Then go around,” Colt said. “You'll save a lot of lives and trouble.”

Canary shot him a look that told him he had not been asked to speak. Colt did not flinch. He glared back at the man, thinking how his name fit him—thin as a little bird. The smell of arrogance was so thick in the now-cramped car that Colt was on full defense.

“That is just the problem,” Canary answered. He looked back at Sunny, as though to remind Colt he had been talking to her, not to him. “We came out here to discuss the matter, because to go around this gravesite, or whatever it is, would mean many extra miles of track. Its location is on the best soil, right in the middle of some very rugged, hard-rock country that does not offer a good path anywhere near on either side. Because of the past winter, we're falling behind, Sunny. Normally, we don't mind a few extra miles of track—it's just more government money in our pockets. But this time Durant does not want the delay. We have a lot of lost time to make up for, and it's time to be as efficient as possible, both with money and material as well as speed.”

“But going straight through as planned will mean a heated fight with the Indians,” another man put in. He reached over and poured himself more coffee from a silver pot that sat on a round oak table in front of the men. The rich elegance of Sunny's private car again reminded Colt of the kind of money and power and social standing Sunny represented, a way of life that was ingrained in her very blood. At the same time he was reminded what this kind of living did to him. Already he felt choked, needed to get out of the close confines of the parlor car.

“In other words, we're choosing here between putting on a lot of extra miles, which means lost time and money, or going through the burial ground and losing a lot of lives,” Sunny was saying.

“That's about the size of it,” Canary told Sunny. “You know the kind of money we're talking about, and you also know how important it is to the Doctor to keep up with Strobridge.”

Sunny sighed, putting a hand to her head. How she hated coming back to a car full of men who were after her to make another decision. This one was made more difficult by the fact that deciding to go through could endanger Colt's life.

“We brought in the scouts to get their opinion,” Casement was saying.

Sunny looked at Colt, thinking how he stood out from everyone else, so big and rugged-looking. It was almost humorous trying to picture him in a silk suit and top hat. An odd fear gripped her. Now that they were back to reality, had they been wrong to think they could be together? Yet she could no longer imagine her life without him in it. She saw the love there in those hazel eyes, knew he was telling her not to be afraid, not to give it up. “You know the Cheyenne, Mr. Travis,” she spoke up, addressing him formally to help stave off the unspoken gossip she knew filled the minds of her business cohorts. “You even lived with them for a while. What are we in for?”

“Yes, I suppose it takes an Indian to know an Indian,” Canary said derisively. “Let's hear it, Mr., uh, Travis, was it? We'll hear what you and the other scout here have to say, and then you can be off. We have some important decisions to make.”

Sunny watched Colt stiffen at the rude remark, spoken as though Colt were just some common servant who should get in his say quickly and get out. “I would be careful how you address our scouts, Mr. Canary,” she said before Colt could answer. “They happen to be our most important men. Without them a lot more lives would have been lost by now. Mr. Travis has already been wounded once protecting the U.P. and me and my brother a few months back. He is also a veteran of the Civil War who spent time at Andersonville. You will address him with more respect.”

Canary reddened a little, and Colt grinned inwardly at Sunny's bold retort. She was back to Sunny Landers, the businesswoman, and he loved that Sunny just as much as he loved the vulnerable, totally submissive woman who had been completely in his control the last two days, or had it been the other way around? She certainly knew how to manipulate men.

Canary nodded to him. “My apologies for sounding short with you, Mr. Travis, but we've no time to lose here. This is a very grave situation.”

Colt looked over at Quinn and saw the concern on his own face. Quinn was a good man who knew his job well, although he didn't know quite as much about how to handle Indians as Colt did.

Quinn nodded to him. “I'll let you do the talkin',” the man said.

Colt turned to Canary. “You're right,” he answered. “This
is
a grave situation. There are few things more important to the Indian than their sacred burial grounds. I don't know how many are out there, but it doesn't take a lot of Indians to create a whole lot of trouble. The Cheyenne are some of the fiercest fighters on the Plains, and believe me, they'll fight for this one. Personally, if you do decide to go through, I'll help however I can, but I won't set foot in the burial ground itself. I happen to believe that it's too sacred. My advice is to try to find a way to go around.” He looked at Sunny. “The Indians have lost enough land and dignity. Don't do this to them.”

Their eyes held for a moment, both of them struggling to hide their love and passion, wishing they could talk about this alone. Outside, a wild storm raged, and Sunny felt one raging in her soul. Rain pelted the windows of the plush railroad car, and thunder seemed to literally shake the ground. Sunny tore her eyes away then, looking at Canary. “There must be some way to go around.”

“Not without a great deal of lost time,” Casement answered for the man.

“I say we risk it,” Canary told Sunny. “We have over sixty soldiers with us now, with more to arrive tomorrow. They can rout out the Indians in no time, and there will be enough men to leave a few here to help protect the construction crew in case the Indians decide to attack here too. Once the tracks are laid through the burial ground, we can leave soldiers camped in the area for a while to keep guard until we're sure the Cheyenne won't try to come back and destroy the tracks, or until so many of them die that there are not enough left to give us a fight.”

“It isn't right,” Colt said, his anger obviously rising. “For God's sake, what's a couple more weeks, a few more miles! A burial ground is so important to the Indian. You're building right through land that's been theirs for centuries, chasing away their game, bringing out more white settlers, now this! To tear up that burial ground is as sacrilegious to them as burning a Bible would be to you! Someday the U.P. is going to rake in millions. Don't sit there and tell me you can't afford to lay a few extra miles of track.”

Canary's face grew to a deeper red, and the others sat dumbfounded at the way Colt dared to talk to him. Canary rose, facing him. “I said earlier I was sorry for the remark I made, but I take it back. How dare you in your position talk to me that way!”