To Find You Again (28 page)

"I'll watch him," Ridge reassured. He lowered his hands to his sides and opened his mouth as if to say something more. Instead he spun around and strode away.

Too tired to look away, Emma followed his progress across the camp. He didn't pause until he joined Captain Rivers.

She didn't know who to trust. Although she'd treated their wounds and helped them with the burial preparations, the Lakota avoided her like the plague, and Talutah was lost in misery. Most of the soldiers were eyeing her like she was a bottle of whiskey in a dry town.

Emma rubbed her throbbing brow and pulled her hand away, only to notice dried blood across her knuckles. She wondered whose it was.

She lifted her gaze to Chayton and a tiny shimmer of light broke through the black sorrow. Her resolve strengthened. No matter what anyone said, she wouldn't leave him behind again.

The long night passed, underscored by the survivors' grieving for their dead. Moans rose and fell, interspersed with an occasional wail which ululated through the camp. Fires flickered brightly, but smoke hazed the air and the cloying scent of cedar infiltrated everything.

Ridge lay on his side facing Chayton who slept restlessly beside him. Every time Ridge closed his eyes, he saw blood being lapped up by the earth beneath still bodies. He couldn't distinguish between memory, reality, and nightmare. The massacre he'd unwittingly been involved in last fall blurred with the one that had occurred twenty-four hours ago. Unknown victims took on the faces of those killed here.

As an army scout, Ridge had believed in what he was doing—making the wilderness safer for the incoming tide of settlers. However, on his last scouting mission, he'd been ordered to find a band of renegade Indians who'd attacked a wagon train. Ridge tracked them to a village. Instead of culling out the guilty, the army unit had ridden into the camp with guns blazing and swords flashing. Ridge had tried to stop the bloodlust, but he'd only been able to watch in horror as women and children were cut down, screams dying in their throats as their bodies fell under bullets and blades. He would never forgive himself for his part in the bloody massacre.

Ridge sat up, careful not to wake Chayton. As exhausted as he was, Ridge knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep any time soon. He added some wood to the fire and settled beside its warmth.

A figure emerged out of the shadows and Ridge tensed until he recognized Emma's slumped figure. She sank to the ground beside Chayton, her legs folded to the side. Gazing down at her son, she brushed her hand across his long, straight hair.

Ridge didn't break the companionable silence, leaving that to Emma if she was inclined to talk.

"Sergeant Sanders ordered me to get some sleep," she said, minutes later.

Ridge smiled. "He's hard to ignore."

Her lips curved upward, but the smile was fleeting. "I like him."

Ridge felt a stirring of jealousy. "He doesn't judge folks by the color of their skin."

Emma continued to stroke her son's hair. "What'll happen to them?"

"They'll be taken to the reservation."

"Will your friend let them take their belongings?"

"He's a fair man. He'll give them time to get their things together."

"If he's so fair, he'd let them stay here."

"He's only doing his job, Emma." Ridge felt compelled to defend him.

"He should find another job," she shot back.

After the somber task of preparing bodies for burial, Ridge was glad to see some of her spirit returned. "Colt's got his reasons for what he does."

"Maybe so, but it doesn't make it right."

Ridge sighed and lifted his gaze to the star-filled sky. "I didn't say it did."

Low voices crawled through the night and a muffled snore or two came from the soldiers who slept some forty yards away. The Lakota's wrenching moans continued unabated.

"Get some sleep, Emma. After the dead are put to rest, we're leaving for Sunset," Ridge said.

"With Chayton."

"With Chayton," Ridge repeated.

Emma was too tired for little more than a nod. She curled up beside Chayton and was asleep in moments.

Ridge rose and covered mother and child with his blanket, then watched over them until morning.

Chapter 17

From atop his horse, Ridge watched the Lakota prepare to leave the camp at noon the next day. Despite the resentment of some of the soldiers, Colt had given the Indians time to dismantle the remaining tipis and pack their things. The dogs were put into harness to pull the travois loaded with the Lakota's sparse belongings.

Emma had helped Talutah with her preparations. Any other time the older woman wouldn't have accepted her assistance, but since they'd left Fast Elk on his burial platform early that morning, Talutah had become distant and unresponsive. Ridge saw the fear in Emma's face, as well as Chayton's confusion, at Talutah's uncharacteristic behavior.

A horse trotted up and he turned to see Colt draw up alongside him.

"When are you and Miss Hartwell leaving?" he asked without preamble.

Ridge fingered the reins of Emma's horse, which stood docilely beside Paint. "As soon as Talutah has her belongings ready to go."

Colt shifted in his saddle. "I'm sorry things turned out this way, Ridge."

"It only takes one man to rouse up the bloodlust. We've seen it before," Ridge allowed. Violent memories stirred and he mentally shook his head to rid his mind of the images.

Colt cursed under his breath. "I should've shot him as soon as we left the fort."

Ridge's gaze traveled to Cullen, who watched the activity with contempt from his bound position atop a horse. "You ain't a cold-blooded murderer like him."

"You thought I was."

Ridge's gaze flickered across his friend's swollen and discolored jaw. "Hell, Colt, I wasn't thinking straight."

"Yeah, I noticed," Colt said dryly. "When it comes to Miss Hartwell you got the same problem. She's got you where you don't know up from down, and you don't even know it."

Ridge stiffened. "What's between me and her is none of your concern."

"The hell it isn't. I don't want to see you lose all you've been working for because of her and her kid."

At least he hadn't said
half-breed.

"Leave it alone, Colt," Ridge warned.

The captain narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. He looked away. "We'll be behind you, but I won't be pushing them. There's too many wounded and old folks."

"That'll ease Emma's mind," Ridge said stiffly.

"It'll ease
my
mind when you two head out. But watch yourselves."

"Are you going to be all right without a scout?"

"Sarge is pretty good about picking up sign." Colt scanned their surroundings. "I know you and Nyes don't see eye-to-eye, but if we don't make it back tell him what happened."

Guilt nudged Ridge's conscience. "We could ride with you and I could scout."

"No. You need to get Miss Hartwell back to her father's ranch and give her some time before the rest of the town hears about her situation. And you can bet when we get back the gossip's going to start flying."

Colt was right. The townspeople would ravenously devour the newest tidbit about the fallen Miss Hartwell. If they made it back before the cavalry, that gave Emma's family time to overcome their shock and decide what to do. No matter what Ridge thought of old man Hartwell, he did seem to care for his daughters.

"All right," Ridge agreed reluctantly. "Keep your powder dry, pard."

"You, too."

Each placing a hand on the other's forearm, the two men said goodbye, but it lacked the warmth of past farewells.

Colt wheeled away to see if the caravan was ready to move out. Ridge watched him until his attention was drawn by Emma's approach. If possible, she looked more tense than yesterday. Her wan face and lank hair gave the impression she was ill, but it was a sickness of the heart, not body.

Ridge dismounted and went to her side. He helped her onto Clementine while Chayton leaned against his leg. Then Ridge lifted the boy onto the saddle in front of Emma. His little hands wrapped around the pommel and his hollow eyes lit with delight. Ridge's heart missed a beat at the boy's obvious pleasure. He patted Chayton's knee before climbing into his own saddle.

"Is Talutah any better?" Ridge asked.

Emma shrugged listlessly. "She does what she's told, but doesn't seem to know what's going on."

It was hard for Ridge to imagine the tough woman so beaten, but losing Fast Elk had been a terrible blow. "Is someone with her?"

"Shimmering Water said she would stay close to her."

"Good. Colt said he wouldn't push them."

Emma snorted in disbelief. "Just like he didn't lead the charge on the village."

Caught between loyalties, Ridge didn't comment. "We'll go on ahead of them."

"No. I want to make sure Talutah is all right."

"You said Shimmering Water will take care of her. We need to get you back before the soldiers arrive." Ridge took a deep breath. "The truth of the matter is as soon as Colt's unit gets back, word's going to spread like wildfire about you and Chayton. If we can get to your folks beforehand, that'll give them some time to get used to the idea before tongues start wagging."

If possible, Emma's face paled further. "I hadn't thought of that."

"It's no wonder. You're exhausted and grieving." He glanced around to see the last of the caravan winding out of the camp. "We'd best head out."

Ridge felt the hostile looks from both sides—Lakota and white—as he and Emma trotted past them. He glanced at Emma and noticed the stern set of her chin. If he hadn't been looking so closely, he wouldn't have noticed the accompanying quiver.

Chayton fell asleep not long after they began their journey. Ridge and Emma didn't speak, but not because of the sleeping boy. Talking about what had happened would be pointless.

At dusk, they made camp. Chayton roused long enough to eat some food, then dropped off again. Drained emotionally and physically, Ridge and Emma fell asleep soon after the boy.

The following morning was brisk and they ate quickly. While readying their horses, Ridge noticed Emma pause and stare back in the direction from which they'd come. Guilt creased her brow and Ridge could do nothing more than give her shoulders a sympathetic squeeze.

They traveled steadily through the day despite the dreary gray clouds and occasional light showers that felt more like a cool mist. During the midday break, the sun burst through for a few minutes of relief from the dampness. Chayton regained much of his energy and spent the respite chasing bugs and searching for odd-shaped rocks. Ridge challenged him to a foot race and let the boy win, which delighted Chayton and brought a smile to Emma's haggard face.

They crossed rolling brown hills broken by massive gray jagged rocks thrusting up from the earth, and plodded through temporary ponds formed from the spring melt. Knowing their destination, they made better time traveling back. It had taken nearly two weeks to find the Lakota, but by Ridge's reckoning, it would take only five days to return to Sunset.

Chayton grew more animated and excited, probably thinking of it all as a big adventure. He buoyed Emma and Ridge's spirits with his childish questions and enthusiasm, but he also exhausted them. By the third night, Emma and Ridge were both relieved when Chayton went to sleep.

Sipping coffee, Ridge glanced across the fire at the boy's dark head, which peeped above his blanket. "You're going to have your hands full with him."

Emma, leaning against her saddle with her legs outstretched in front of her, nodded. "He's going to miss playing with other children."

Ridge looked at the woman and saw sadness lingering in her eyes. "I s'pect he will. Have you thought about what you're going to do when we get back?"

"It depends on my father." She rubbed her suspiciously bright eyes. "If he can accept Chayton, things won't be easy, but they won't be impossible either."

"And if he doesn't?"

She granted him a small smile. "I'm hoping my aunt in St. Paul will be willing to take us in. Maybe I could find a job in the city."

Ridge considered the jobs Emma might be able to get. He didn't think much of any of them. "Do you think your father will throw you out?"

"I don't know."

He barely heard her soft words. Ridge's stepfather had beaten him, but he hadn't cast him out. Could John Hartwell actually disown his daughter?

"I don't want your money for finding the village," Ridge finally spoke.

Emma snapped her head up to meet his gaze. "We made a deal."

Ridge shifted on the unforgiving ground. "You can use that hundred dollars to make a new start."

"I always keep my word," she said stubbornly.

"And I'm releasing you from it."

"You can't do that."

"It's my hundred dollars. I can do anything I want with it."

"Buy some cattle, or better yet, buy back some of your land from my father. It would serve him right."

Ever since he returned to Sunset and claimed his inheritance, Ridge had wanted nothing else. But now, he couldn't bring himself to take money from a woman and her son whom he'd come to care about far too much.

He held his tongue, but the argument wasn't over. Besides, even if her pride demanded he accept it, he'd find a way to give the money back.

"We'd best turn in," he said. "We'll be covering a lot of miles tomorrow."

Emma lay down beside her son, just as she'd done since they'd started back. Ridge stretched out on the other side of the fire and tried to ignore the cold emptiness beside him. And inside him.

He had a feeling it'd be a long time before he stopped missing Emma's warmth.

It was the afternoon of the fifth day when Emma caught sight of her father's imposing home. They'd passed cattle with the Hartwell brand in the morning, but they had to ride some distance before arriving at the ranch house itself.

They paused on a rise a quarter of a mile from the buildings. Emma saw three men around the corral, working with unbroken horses. She heard the whoops and hollers, but couldn't understand the words. She could imagine them, though.