Sunflower (35 page)

“Escapades?”

“I’m sorry.” Ruth searched for another word. “His ... adventures.”

“This is hardly an adventure, Mrs. Storm.” Analisa felt herself becoming protective of Caleb’s position. “Caleb’s life is in danger.”

She watched as Ruth smiled at her with understanding.

“Caleb’s life is always in danger, Analisa. It’s the nature of his business, but even if it weren’t, he’d be doing something equally dangerous. He thrives on it.”

Analisa remembered the urgency and excitement she’d experienced as she rode toward the agency to seek out Hardy. The danger of what she was doing was thrilling in a way she’d never imagined it could be. Did Caleb feel the same excitement each time he rode into the renegade camp, every time he confronted anyone as Don Ricardo? A different energy had surged through her when she faced the danger of intrigue. She understood Ruth’s comment, because she’d experienced the feelings that Caleb apparently thrived on.

“I can tell by your expression that you are worried about him. Perhaps I’ve come at a good time after all.” Ruth leaned toward Analisa, diminishing the space between them. “I was married to his father, Analisa. They were very much alike. Caleb, like Clinton, must be free to seek the challenge he needs. Never hem him in. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Analisa nodded. It was a relief just to sit and talk quietly with Ruth. It had been so long since she’d had her mother to comfort her, guide her. Sophie had been her friend, but her equal. With Ruth she hoped she might find the joy that came from having a gentle adviser.

“I think I am beginning to understand Caleb, and so I do understand what you have said.”

Abigail bustled into the room with a steaming pot of tea and a large wedge of apple pie for Analisa.

“Don’t mind me. I’ll be gone in a minute.” Abbie paused to look at Analisa, her blue eyes snapping, the pipe missing from the corner of her mouth. Although the ring of silver-gray braids about her head was neatly arranged, wisps escaped here and there. Her forehead was beaded with sweat from her recent flurry of activity. Abbie leaned toward Analisa, assuming the role of conspirator. “You don’t have to worry about me, honey. I may seem like a loudmouth, but I’m closed as a clam when I have to be. And,” she added in a stage whisper, “I was only teasin’ about letting the boy smoke. It’ll be a year or two before he’s ready for it.”

Rearing back with a hearty chuckle, the woman turned away. Analisa watched the starched bow riding above the cook’s wide derriere as Abbie bounced into the kitchen.

Before she continued, Analisa relished a sip of the steaming tea. The tart aroma of orange peel floated above the liquid. Abbie was beginning to bang pans about in the kitchen, and Analisa listened to Kase as he asked the woman a string of questions in between telling her where household items were kept. Ruth seemed to want to relax and chat, but Analisa found it hard to do so with a strange woman working in her own kitchen. Shouldn’t she be preparing dinner for her guests?

“You just relax.” Ruth’s voice intruded upon her thoughts. “Your worry is as plain as the nose on your face. Abbie doesn’t need or want any help. I guess now is the time to apologize for coming out here on a whim to visit you two without any notice, but you see, I just couldn’t wait any longer to meet you and Kase. Abbie refused to be left behind, and once she’s made up her mind there’s no arguing with her. She’s become part of the family. We gave up trying to act like employer and employee years ago.” Ruth stopped long enough to refill her own cup and then continued.

“We told the soldier who met the steamboat that we were guests of Don Ricardo, and believe me, I breathed a sigh of relief when he brought us directly here. I wasn’t even sure you’d still be at Fort Sully.” She looked at Analisa with eyes that begged for understanding and forgiveness. “I realize that our accommodations will be cramped, but I don’t intend to put you to this trouble for too long. We’ll be going back on the next steamboat. I hope you’ll forgive me, though. I just had to meet you.”

Abandoning a forkful of pie, Analisa reached across the table and took one of Ruth’s hands in her own.

“You can’t leave without seeing Caleb, and he may not be back for weeks. We’ll be crowded, but please stay for as long as you like.” Analisa looked around for a moment before she had second thoughts. “Perhaps the house is too small for your taste. I ... I know that it is simple, but it is clean. Maybe the major can find housing for you elsewhere, but you must stay.”

“I can manage anywhere, but I’m concerned about you and your privacy.”

Analisa felt her face flush as she realized that Ruth must be thinking of sleeping arrangements when Caleb returned. It was a moment before she could meet the woman’s eyes again. Ruth’s were sparkling.

“Kase will sleep with me,” Analisa began, mentally arranging everyone in her mind. “You can sleep in his bed, and Abigail can have a cot in there, too. The room is large enough. We’ll worry about moving Kase later.”

Analisa’s voice was drowned out by what sounded like the shriek of a very angry cat. While the shrill screech still hung in the air, a black and white streak hurled itself from the kitchen, followed close behind by Kase. The boy ran through the doorway, heedless of the commotion, and tripped headlong over the edge of the carpet. The fall threw him to his knees, and he remained stunned for a moment before both Ruth and Analisa jumped to his aid. Analisa looked him over, saw that he was unhurt, then brushed off the knees of his trousers and adjusted his suspenders.

“You are all right,” she assured him, noting his darkening expression. “Don’t run in the house, Kase. You know that. Did you put your jacket away?”

He nodded. “But, Mama, they brought a cat. He was asleep under the stove and I saw his tail, but I couldn’t get him out.”

“Did you pull on it?” Ruth asked.

“Ja.
I pulled on the tail, but then he jumped up and screamed and scared me and ran in here.” The boy looked around for the missing animal.

“Come with me, Kase,” Ruth said, extending her hand to the boy. “We’ll find Galileo, and I’ll help you apologize to him. I’m sure you’ll want to be friends. It may take him a while to get used to you, though. He doesn’t know any children, and he gets a bit upset when he travels in a box for very long.”

“Is he yours?”

“Yes. I’ve had him many years now.”

Analisa listened as they walked about the room, searching under the furniture and behind the drapes. Ruth calmly instructed the boy as to how to treat a cat gently and quietly if he wished to make friends.

“Here he is,” Ruth whispered. She knelt down in front of the sideboard. “Come out, Galileo. Come and meet Kase.”

Muddy water lapped in and out of the shallows along the riverbank, surging and swirling around the tree stumps and other natural debris carried along by the steady current of the Missouri. Caleb urged Scorpio forward, letting the big stallion find his own footing through the shallows. He glanced over his shoulder anxious to leave no trace of his passage. There was no sign of anyone following him. He reined to the right in the direction of the bank and began to make his way through the dense undergrowth that lined the shore beneath the bluffs that had been carved away by the water’s force.

Once he reached the wide plateau at the top of the riverbank, Caleb could see for miles in every direction. The sky was clear, the sun shining down over the rain-freshened landscape. Scorpio shook his head, impatient to be off. Caleb made the horse wait while he tightened the rawhide band he had tied around his forehead to hold his hair away from his face. He pressed his knees against Scorpio’s ribs, gently controlling the horse without the aid of saddle or stirrups, for he’d left his tack and his white man’s clothing in a small cave a few miles from Fort Sully. He knew that anyone who came upon him now would mistake him for an Indian. His clothing consisted of buckskin leggings, cut-beaded moccasins, and a buckskin pullover. His rifle was thrust into a fringed scabbard decorated with beads and porcupine quills. He reached down to straighten the knife that hung ready in a smaller sheath at his waist. In an hour or two Caleb would arrive at the cave where his “Don Ricardo” suit and saddle were hidden. As he rode toward the fort, he mentally tallied the hours it would take him to get home.

Impatience assailed him. It was a feeling he didn’t welcome, for he knew that an impatient man often made mistakes. He squinted into the distance and tried to make out the dark shapes circling in the sky not far away as he sorted through his thoughts. His own plans seemed at an impasse, for he was no nearer to curtailing Hardy’s duties at the agency than he had been when he first arrived. Everything was moving far too slowly, and Caleb was aware that most of the problem stemmed from his living in two places at once. Caleb knew that he would remain under suspicion as long as he kept disappearing to visit Analisa. One of these days Red Dog would send someone to trail him, someone whom Caleb would be unable to shake. He didn’t relish the thought of having to face Red Dog and the others if they learned of his identity before he’d put Hardy away for good.

Things had seemed easier when he had only himself to worry about. He let his mind drift to Analisa, and his body began to respond the way it always did when he thought of her. Damn. The woman had gotten into his blood in a way no one ever had before, and she’d done it effortlessly. He smiled, thinking of his last night at home and the magic she’d worked on him. He’d been gone only two weeks this time, hardly long enough to settle into the routine in the renegade camp, before he felt the nagging need to return to Analisa. “Trust your intuition.” That was always Ruth’s advice. So, when the feeling wouldn’t leave him, he’d decided to go back to the fort. Caleb had left the camp before dawn with a hurried word to the scout who was guarding the Indians’ horses. He told the man he was going hunting and would return in three, maybe four days. The guard hadn’t questioned him, for there was always too great a need for food among the renegade band to deny anyone permission to go off hunting.

Looking to the east once again, Caleb was certain now that a flock of carrion crows had gathered above the open plain. They had probably found a dead antelope, he told himself as he tried to shake off the nagging feeling that he should go find out for sure. His impulsive trek to see Analisa was already costing him valuable time. He didn’t need to waste any more by taking a detour.

Glancing once again at the circling crows, he muttered a curse under his breath and then turned his horse toward the ominous black figures in the sky. What difference would a few more minutes make?

Scorpio sensed his mood and broke into a gallop as soon as he felt the touch of Caleb’s knees. As they approached the crows, Caleb saw that a dark form lay huddled on the ground in the distance, and although he could not make out what sort of creature it was, he thought he saw it move. Within minutes, horse and rider drew close enough to the huddled figure for Caleb to see clearly that it was a person clothed in black. With a practiced move he was off of the horse as soon as it reached the limp body lying huddled against the onslaught of the crows. Caleb swung his arms in the air, shouting to drive the more brazen ones away from the broken figure of a woman. He knelt beside her and turned her gently onto her back. Long, thick strands of ebony hair lay tangled over her face. He brushed it away.

It was a girl of about eighteen, and Caleb could see that she was a Sioux, although she was dressed in a black silk gown that had once been exquisitely tailored. The dress was torn and ragged now, the sleeves pulled away from the shoulders, brambles and tears covering the skirt. He cradled her in his arms, and she pressed her face against his chest until he tilted it up gently with his thumb and forefinger to get a closer look. Her left eye was swollen shut, her lips caked with dried blood. Caleb put her down gently and strode back to Scorpio to retrieve his water bag.

Raising her head once again, he forced the mouth of the bag between her lips and whispered in Sioux, ordering her to drink.

The girl opened her eyes at the sound of the Sioux words and did as he commanded, slowly sipping the water he offered.

As understanding filled her eyes, Caleb withdrew the bag and set her away from him, allowing her to lean against his bent knee.

“Who are you?” He spoke to her only in the Sioux language, knowing she understood.

“Mia.” She looked him over, studying his clothes, then his eyes. “Who are you?”

“Raven’s Shadow, of Red Dog’s band.”

Caleb watched as she relaxed at his words, her wary look replaced by one of hope.

“I was going back to him. I am Red Dog’s woman.”

He frowned, his eyes taking in the dress, the condition of her face. She answered his questions before he could ask them.

“I was forced to live in the agent Hardy’s house. I worked as his servant. Last night he wanted more. He beat me. When he was asleep, I ran away.”

“How did you escape?”

“I knew the guard. I told him if Red Dog came to get me he would kill all of the ones who call themselves
police.”
She spat out the white man’s word. “Will you take me to Red Dog?”

Caleb nodded. His journey to Anja would have to wait. Finding this woman might be the break he needed to gain Red Dog’s trust. Perhaps she was the reason he had felt the need to leave the camp this morning. Fate had demanded that he rescue Red Dog’s woman. “Can you ride?”

At her nod of assurance, Caleb lifted Mia and carried her to Scorpio. Once they were both mounted, he held her securely before him, one arm looped around her waist. She relaxed against him, her head on his shoulder, and fell immediately asleep as he turned the giant horse back toward the renegade camp.

It was late afternoon before Caleb rode into the camp, which lay hidden in a wide ravine near the river. From the open plain above it could not be seen, nor could it be sighted from the Missouri, lying as it did along one bank of a narrow tributary of the river. Dogs barked as children ran through the settlement of buffalo-hide tepees. Women worked over open fires while the men sat in small groups around the camp, some busy repairing or replacing valuable weapons. Tender shoots of spring grass were beginning to sprout in the less traveled pathways as well as along the high banks of the ravine. The scent of simmering food hung in the air, reminding Caleb of his hunger. A youth of about twelve summers spotted him first and, with one glance at the woman in Caleb’s arms, began to run for Red Dog’s shelter. Within moments, people had begun to cluster around Caleb’s horse.