Chapter 19
He was gone.
Well, she asked herself, had she really expected him to be there?
Sabrina covered her face with her hands, wondering how it was possible to spend so passionate and intimate a night…
And be so very far apart!
How could she have explained to him that she’d been very glad of feeling indebted to him, because it allowed her to have what she wanted—him—and save face with herself. She couldn’t simply fall into his arms when Marlene remained in their lives, and yet…
She wanted her husband. She was in love with him, and she wanted him.
With a soft groan, she rose. Morning sickness caught her unaware, and she staggered up, seeking the chamber pot. She lay back down then.
If she was going to be ill this often, she hoped that they would have a small family.
Guilt seized her, and she prayed silently and frantically. She’d happily be sick as a dog every day of her life if God just let her keep this baby…
After a moment, she rose, wondering where Sloan had gone. It was late. She had slept late because she’d been up so much of the night.
She was suddenly very anxious to see him. She wished that their anger hadn’t intruded on the night. There had been something especially warm at the beginning.
Maybe because…
She had dared to take the first step.
But then…
She hesitated a few minutes, then leaped up. She washed and dressed quickly. He had left coffee for her. The aroma that she usually found delicious made her queasy again instead. She determined that wherever he was, she was going to find Sloan. He had a right to know about the baby.
She stepped out onto the porch, looking across the yard. More wagons were being loaded. The Seventh Cavalry was due to leave soon.
She saw General Terry across the parade grounds and hurried over to him.
“General!”
“Good morning, Mrs. Trelawny.”
“Good morning, sir. I’m sorry to interrupt, but could you tell me where I might find my husband? I just need a few moments with him. It’s important.”
Terry arched a bushy gray brow to her. “Well, Mrs. Trelawny, I’m sorry. The major has been gone a good four hours by now.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Gone?”
“Oh, dear, didn’t he get a chance to tell you?
Perhaps you were sleeping when he came in last night.
Actually, he probably didn’t need to leave quite so quickly, but after the trouble between him and Jenkins, I thought…
well, I thought it best if I separated the two of them.
Mind you, I don’t blame your husband. Jenkins has behaved atrociously, and I imagine that this incident will make a new man of him.
He’s an ambitious man, and he sees that most of his fellow officers are quite disgusted by his behavior.
He’ll be on the trail to battle quite soon now as well. ”
Sabrina stared at Terry, feeling ill all over again. Sloan was gone. She didn’t know when he’d come back.
A sudden panic filled her.
She didn’t know he’d come back.
“Where did he go?”
“Out into the field, with messages.”
“After the soldiers who are looking for Crazy Horse.”
“Yes, but don’t worry about your husband, Mrs. Trelawny. He knows his business.”
She tried to nod.
“Mrs. Trelawny?” General Terry said worriedly.
She shook her head. “It’s—I’m all right,” she said to him. But she wasn’t. She fled back to her quarters. Sloan’s quarters. The home she had shared with him. She threw herself down on their bed.
And damned herself for being a fool.
She had to find him, she thought. She had to find him.
He’d be riding into the Black Hills and beyond. Territory beyond the military roads. Seldom seen by White men.
It didn’t matter. She had to go to him.
She couldn’t go to him. No man in his right mind would help her get where she needed to go.
She lay on her bed, numb with worry. Sloan would be furious with her if she attempted to follow him west into the Black Hills.
It didn’t matter. She felt a terrible sense of foreboding, and she felt that she had to see him.
Perhaps Hawk would take her to him?
She quickly dashed that hope. Hawk would never let her ride into hostile territory now.
There was simply no way she could reach Sloan, she tried to tell herself firmly.
But the seed of longing was sown.
On May 17th, the column of the prong of soldiers from Fort Abraham Lincoln finally set out, after having been held back for two days by bad weather. At five a.m., led by the Seventh Cavalry, the party assembled.
It was an awesome sight. Watching from her porch, Sabrina found herself completely awed by the sheer size of the Dakota Column.
In addition to the soldiers, there were White civilian employees, servants, newspapermen, and Indian scouts.
Since the land was all but barren and it would be difficult at best to forage for food, there was an endless line of wagons carrying supplies. The column stretched for two miles.
Custer was a dashing figure as he rode to the head of his troops.
The Seventh Cavalry itself was magnificent in appearance; Custer had long since ordered that Company A ride black horses, while Companies B, D, H, I, and L rode bay horses, Companies C, G, and K rode sorrel animals, and Company E rode grays.
Only Company M rode horses of mixed colors.
Libbie Custer and a number of the other women would ride with the column to camp the first night out.
Sabrina had been invited to go, but she had refused.
Sloan wasn’t with the column, and there was no real reason for her to go.
She was glad to see the march, however, for it was a sight she would remember all her life.
A low fog sat on the ground, and it seemed that the massive column marched off into the clouds… and then disappeared.
When the soldiers were gone, she went back home and tried to compose a letter to Sloan. She ripped up several sheets of paper. She couldn’t say what she wanted to say on paper.
The next day, Libbie Custer returned in a strange mood. She was usually so bright and confident.
“I watched him ride away,” she told Sabrina, coming in for coffee. “I watched him ride away…and it seemed that ice congealed in my breast, right around my heart. Oh, Autie does love a call to glory, but…”
“The ride must have been fantastic.”
“Oh, it was.” She finished her coffee and stood. “I’m going to go write Autie a letter,” she said cheerfully. “If you write letters to Sloan, I can send them along with my own. There’s a steamer that goes up the Yellowstone and will deliver mail to the troops.”
“Thanks. I haven’t written anything yet.” Sabrina hesitated. “I was wishing…”
“Wishing what?”
“Well, I was wondering if there were a way to meet up with the troops—with Sloan.”
Libbie frowned. “Sabrina, it would be almost impossible to visit the men in hostile territory. And as for Sloan…well, you never quite know where he’s going to be.”
“Yes, but wherever he is, he eventually has to meet up with General Terry, right?”
Libbie nodded. “Yes, of course, but…Sabrina, I plan to meet Autie for the Fourth of July. Perhaps we could plan something together. Sabrina, no one will take you out to hostile Indian territory.”
“There must be riders who take messages—”
“No one will take you. It’s insanity,” Libbie told her firmly.
Once Libbie had gone, Sabrina tried to write a letter again.
She wrote about watching the expedition leave from the fort, about the way Custer’s companies on their different-colored horses looked so splendid.
She couldn’t say what she wanted to say.
The best she could manage was to end with, “I send my love and best wishes for your health and welfare, Sabrina.”
She gave her letter to Libbie, who promised to see that it reached Autie, who would hold it for Sloan.
But as she left Libbie’s that night, it all became much worse. She had started out when she remembered that she had left her umbrella just inside. When she opened the door, she heard Maggie talking to Libbie.
“Poor, dear Sabrina! I overheard one of the Crow scouts talking with Jimmy Blake today. Sloan is in greater danger than he can imagine. The scout says that he heard from one of the reservation Sioux at the Red Cloud Agency that the hostile warriors no longer trust Sloan. He is in grave danger.”
“Whatever you do, don’t let Sabrina know!” Libbie warned.
Sabrina quietly let herself out. Her heart was thundering. She closed Libbie’s door tightly and leaned against it. Dear God. It was no longer a matter of finding him in order to somehow salvage her own soul.
Now she must find him to save his life.
Sloan moved quickly, finding Colonel Gibbon with little trouble.
He delivered his dispatches and was sent to scout a trail discovered by one of Gibbon’s men.
He was glad that he had followed the trail alone, for at its end he found a sad Cheyenne family: a very old grandfather, a grandmother—and eight small grandchildren.
All three of the man’s sons had been killed, along with their wives.
The government had beaten them. It didn’t matter.
The old Cheyenne man was tired; his wife was starving. His grandchildren were young.
They would live in the new world.
Sloan escorted the Indians back to Gibbon and arranged for the family to be allowed safe passage back to their reservation.
Gibbon understood what difficulties accrued when nonhostiles were attacked, and rather than simply thinking any dead Indian was a good Indian, he was glad when he could lessen the numbers that were joining with Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull.
Sloan started back with dispatches that night, alone.
Lying under the stars with Thomas nearby, he was able to take a certain satisfaction in his work.
Some must live, some must die—life was changing.
But he was glad that he had been able to help the Cheyenne family.
His life hadn’t made much sense to him lately. After today, it did.