Chapter 22 #2
Earth Woman hesitated. “There is more fighting—not where the carnage lies, but there is more fighting. When it finishes, the chiefs say that we will move again. We have won a great victory, but if more soldiers find us it will become defeat.”
“Please, Earth Woman.”
The Cheyenne hesitated, then called to a boy going by on a pony. She spoke to the boy, who nodded. He reached out with his hand. Sabrina quickly took his hand and mounted the pony behind him.
They rode for perhaps twenty minutes.
And they came upon a sea of bodies unlike anything Sabrina had ever imagined.
She had heard about the horror of what had been done. And still, oh, God…
A lone figure stood in the center of the carnage. The boy let Sabrina slip from his horse. She tried to keep from looking down at the ground as she made her way to Sloan. Tears spilled down her cheeks.
Ten feet behind him, she paused. “Sloan?” she said, whispering his name.
When he didn’t turn, she went to him. She was afraid to touch him, and she walked around in front of him, still struggling to keep her eyes from the ground and the blood and gore and death that surrounded them.
For a moment, it seemed as if he still didn’t see her. He looked like a Sioux warrior in his breechclout with his wounds, yet his flesh was ashen. His eyes were ebony dark against his pallor; his lips were gray.
“Sloan?” she repeated. Then she was gasping, and her tears were falling like a river. She would have fallen to her knees, except that she would have fallen on a corpse.
He moved at last, catching her by the shoulders, drawing her against him. He led her a few feet away, and they sank down together. He held her very close, trying to dry her tears, but then she realized that his cheeks were damp as well, and that he had been standing there, crying for his friends.
She looked where he looked and saw a man who had fallen against his horse.
Custer.
The dead around him had been butchered. But he hadn’t been. Only his ears were bloodied.
“The Cheyenne…” Sloan began. His voice gave.
He swallowed and began again. “The Cheyenne counted him a cousin. They did not slash his arms; he will be able to fight in the next life. They poked holes in his ears so that he will hear better in the next life, and remember that he had promised never to make war on the Cheyenne again.”
In the distance, they heard the muted sound of gunfire. Sloan staggered to his feet, drawing her up with him. She saw that he was listening to the gunfire. He looked at her face, then drew her against him again, trying to shield her from the scene of such horror, death, and disaster.
“This…is ungodly!” he whispered. “But dear God, I wish I could make you understand what has happened to the Sioux as well, to the children, to—”
“I saw women and children killed,” she told him.
“So the Whites are murderers, and the Sioux are murderers, and I am both,” he said bitterly. “And I cannot make peace.”
“But there were times when you did make peace. You have saved White lives and Sioux lives,” she told him.
He drew away, looking at her. She was afraid, so afraid of everything that surrounded them. She was so sorry. Sorry for the death.
Sloan inhaled on a shaky breath. “I see how they have fallen, and I try to imagine what they felt at the end. They knew they were fighting to the death, taking their last stand, yet, oh, God—” He broke off, then stared into her eyes.
“I can’t bear what happened here. I am in agony for these men, my friends.
I lived with them, laughed with them, played baseball with them.
But still, God, I think that what happened here was the last great battle of the Indian wars, the last stand of the Sioux against the Whites.
Because there will be little sympathy for the Indians now.
Much of the country was sick of the Indian wars and the cost of them, but now those people will want the army to destroy the heathens who have done this. What in God’s name do we do?”
Sabrina felt the torment in him, the agony, the terrible anguish. She felt, too, the strength in him as he touched her. He was injured—surely, barely standing. And yet he would shield her still, even while his heart was breaking.
She took his face between her palms and prayed that they could both see one another, and nothing else.
“We survive,” she told him. “Earth Woman told me that surviving is the hardest battle. We survive, and we forge a future.”
He stared at her, his eyes darker than ebony.
And she was suddenly afraid that he might not care if he survived or not.
“I love you, Sloan!” she whispered. “Please, if there is a war you must wage, don’t let that war be against me, or our child.
The baby will be White—and Sioux. And he will survive, Sloan, and we will keep it all alive, and remember it, and work so that there is a future, and there is a hope for peace. ”
“What did you say?” he whispered.
“I said—”
But she didn’t need to repeat herself. He drew her hard against him, and she felt his body shaking, and she was afraid. But he drew away from her then.
“I love you. And I will survive.” Touching her cheeks, he said, “Don’t look at the bodies anymore; it will live with you forever as it is.”
He led her from the scene of such monumental death and disaster. She found that a tall man seated silently and stoically on a paint horse waited for Sloan at the base of a hill. Sloan set her on the horse that stood alongside the man and mounted behind her.
There was brief fighting that day between the Indians and the troops who remained under the command of Benteen and Reno.
But the Indian council had decided that their people must move, and so they did.
The survivors in Reno’s company, still assuming themselves deserted by Custer, rejoiced.
They were able to move to the river then, and after days of hard marching, incredible fighting, no sleep, and precious little food, they made coffee and a meal and watched the great Indian retreat.
On June 27, General Terry and his troops received a report from their Indian scouts about the terrible battle that Custer had fought. General Terry’s troops found the dead, mutilated men.
There would be inquiries and debates, and the debate would become legend, as would “Autie” Custer.
But first came the sad task of burial…
And then the most tragic task of all.
Telling the widows and children that their husbands and fathers would come home no more.
Sloan and Sabrina remained with the Sioux for another week; the Indians did not want Sloan to provide the soldiers with any information regarding their whereabouts.
Sloan recuperated slowly from his various wounds, lapsing now and then back into a fever.
Sabrina was alternately glad that they hadn’t made any attempt to ride back to reach the army, and anxious to have modern medical treatment for Sloan.
But after seven days had passed, Tall Man came to tell them that the council had agreed that Cougar-in-the-Night and his woman were free to leave.
A three-day ride brought them to the Yellowstone, and to the steamer.
From friends aboard the steamer, Sabrina learned that Skylar had given birth to her baby, a boy, ten days earlier. She was sorry to have missed the birth, but she knew that Skylar would understand.
The following day, Sloan met with General Terry, and told him what he knew and what he had seen.
When he returned to Sabrina in their stateroom on the steamer, he was solemn.
Sabrina was upset.
“General Terry doesn’t think that you were responsible in any way, does he? Oh, God, Sloan, after everything—”
She didn’t finish her sentence because he took her face between his hands, and he kissed her. Very slowly, deeply. So slowly and deeply, in fact, that she felt herself stirred by that kiss. More than stirred…
Aroused.
They had been close during the past few weeks, but not intimate. Sloan’s injuries and the memories of all that they had witnessed had kept them from making love.
But now…
Now that some time had passed, a healing of body and spirit had begun. Sloan would always bear the scars from his fight with Gray Heron; both of them would always bear inner scars as well, because no one could forget such a tragedy as what they had witnessed at Little Bighorn.
But now…
Oh, God. It seemed like a very long time. What just a kiss was doing to her. Still…
“Sloan, tell me—”
“You tell me. You said that you loved me.”
“I do,” she told him, smiling somewhat ruefully.
“Because I killed Gray Heron?”
She shook her head. “I loved you before you killed Gray Heron.”
“When did you decide you loved me?” he challenged.
“I…”
“I can answer much better than that,” he told her. “I decided I wanted you absolutely and desperately the first time we met. Remember?”
“It’s difficult to forget.”
“Good. It had better be. And in Scotland—you were so damned brave and determined and independent. I told myself that I had to have my child. That wasn’t the whole truth. I had to have you, too.”
“Really?” Sabrina breathed.
“Definitely. Then you lost the baby, and I was afraid that you were going to hate me. But it didn’t matter. I wanted to try to be your husband, because I couldn’t imagine not having you. And then when I saw you at Mayfair that night…”
“Yes?”
“Well, you were flirting most outrageously.”
“I was not! I hadn’t seen you in a very long time. And I had tried to convince myself that I did want an annulment.”
“Because of my mixed blood?”
She shook her head. “Because I knew, deep in my heart, that I could fall so in love with you, I’d be desperate for you to love me in return. I knew that you wanted me, but I wanted you to love me. I was afraid, in so many ways.”
“I think I knew that night at Mayfair that I was in love with you.”
She smiled, and kissed his lips lightly and whispered against them, “I admit, I’m still offended that you thought I was a common whore the first night we met.”
“I don’t remember ever saying a thing about common.”
She arched a brow and hesitated. “And I do admit to a wee bit of jealousy.”
“Really?” he asked, pleased.
“It wasn’t a nice experience!” she informed him indignantly.
“Well, you had no need to be jealous. I couldn’t imagine touching anyone else…not since I touched you.”
She shook her head. “Sloan, I love you, and I’m so grateful for you!”
He smoothed back her hair. “I adore you, Sabrina, and I promise, I will cherish you until the day I die.”
She clung to him hungrily. Their clothing wound up quickly strewn.
He was passionate, urgent…
And so painstakingly tender! He kissed the length of her, it seemed, every single inch of flesh—her feet, her thighs, her breasts, and her lips.
He was intimate as only he could be, and as the fever soared in her, she desperately sought to caress him as well.
She stroked him with her hands, teased him with her tongue, and felt the intimate, wicked thrusts of his arousing touch in return.
When they finally came together, they were both wild with desire for each other, and it seemed that a staggering climax seized them all but simultaneously, leaving them drenched but sated, and still, after all else, somewhat awed.
It was good just to lie beside him. And it was a miracle just to realize that they had survived, and that love had survived as well.
Yet Sabrina suddenly stirred against him. “You still didn’t tell me about your interview with General Terry.”
He hesitated a long while, then told her, “I’m resigning my commission.”
“What? But you love—”
“No, I can’t remain in the army now. I really believe that we’re near the end of the Indian’s reign on the plains, and I want—I want to do something else. And I pray that you’ll help me.”
“What?” she demanded, propped on an elbow.
“I want to build a house first. I own land. Right by Hawk’s.”
“A house sounds fine.”
“Well, of course, we’ll have to raise cattle or the like. We’ve both got money, but we want it to last.”
She nodded. “I’ve nothing against cattle.”
He stared at her. “And children. This baby—a dozen more, perhaps.”
“I’m not sure about a dozen, but I’m incredibly happy about this baby and perhaps a few others.”
He grinned.
“Actually, I want dozens and dozens of children.”
“What—?”
“A school, Sabrina. I want to open a school. I want to teach the Sioux about the people who are overwhelming them, and I want to teach the Whites about the Sioux. It’s going to be an uphill battle…”
“The hardest you’ve ever fought,” Sabrina assured him.
“Want to fight it with me?”
She curled happily into his arms. “I’ll never let you go again,” she promised him.
He kissed her, smiling.
And the vow was made.