Chapter 21

"Do you think she's there?" Cass whispered, peeking over the edge of the low, grassy bluff toward the tepees clustered on the far side of the creek.

Hunter sprawled on his belly beside her, scanning the scene with field glasses. "It's where the trail leads. She's got to be down there somewhere."

Cass let out her breath. With it went a little of the tension, a little of the thick, hot fear. She'd seen for herself how fine a tracker Hunter was. He could learn more from a broken leaf and a clot of dirt than most men could from a signpost. If Hunter said Meggie was in that camp, Cass believed him.

He handed the glasses across to her. "You lived with the Cheyenne. See what you make of it."

Cass put the glasses to her eyes and squinted against the glare of the afternoon sun. The village sprang into focus before her. It was familiar, almost welcoming—the neat formation of buff-colored tepees, the cook fires trailing smoke, people at work and play. Though it was too far away for Cass to identify individuals, she recognized paintings on the sides of several tepees. They represented families she knew, and she could not help wondering if Gray Falcon, her Indian husband, and his new wife were down in the village somewhere.

"I think this must be Standing Pine's band of Cheyenne," she told Hunter. "He sets a high store by his horses and may have broken off from the main encampment during the dry spell to look for better grazing."

She felt Hunter turn and look at her. "Isn't Standing Pine the chief who traded you back to us last winter?"

"And organized the ambush." The knot in Cass's belly pulled taut again. She hadn't known what Standing Pine meant to do, but she'd been caught up in it anyway.

"Do you have any suggestions about how we should go about getting Meggie back?"

"I haven't thought about much but holding her," Cass admitted. "I wish we had more to offer in exchange."

In addition to the horses they were riding, Hunter had brought a skittish sorrel gelding and a dappled mare. If it came to bartering for Meggie, that was all they had.

That didn't seem to worry Hunter as much as it did her. "Those braves don't know what a hornets' nest they stirred up when they took Meggie. We'll let them know and see if we can't convince them to send her back before the whole United States Army descends on them."

Cass lowered the field glasses, uneasiness lapping through her again. "How long do you think we have before they get here?"

"Two days, maybe three. We don't know when Drew realized Meggie was gone, and some of the trail is bound to have been washed out by the storm." A smile hitched up one corner of his mouth. "Besides, the army's best tracker is here with you."

Hunter was doing his best to tease her. Cass did her best to smile back. "I know he is."

He grinned and nudged her away from the edge of the bluff.

Cass and Hunter entered the Cheyenne camp a few minutes later. Yapping dogs heralded their arrival, but no one challenged them. Instead people pointed and put their heads together as they passed, speculating, Cass supposed, about why she was here. She rode with her head held high. Returning to the Cheyenne in the company of Lone Hunter, the army's famed Arikara scout, gave her a credibility she wouldn't have had if she had come alone.

Still, what Cass wanted most was to see some sign of Meggie. But her little girl was neither among the children who ran along beside them, nor in the care of any of the women who trailed them toward the central campfire.

Standing Pine was waiting when they dismounted. Though he gave no outward sign, Cass knew he must recognize both of them.

Hunter stepped forward. "Standing Pine, revered chieftain of the Cheyenne, allow me to introduce myself. I am Lone Hunter of the Arikara, come to offer you and your people my greeting and my friendship."

The Indian's eyebrows rose. "We have met before, I think."

"Some months ago," Hunter answered, "in a situation not quite so cordial as this."

Standing Pine's mouth curled as if he were remembering that day when he and his men had ridden down on the party of cavalrymen. "It had to do with returning your companion to the whites."

Hunter nodded. "I am pleased that you remember Cassandra Morgan."

"The woman I remember was known to us as Sweet Grass Woman," the Cheyenne corrected him. "Has this woman forsworn her Cheyenne name now that she lives among the whites?"

A Cheyenne woman would have allowed Hunter to answer for her, but Cass wasn't a squaw anymore. She was no longer the wife of a United States Army captain, either. Not belonging to anyone seemed to give her the right to speak for herself.

"I have forsworn nothing," she told the man who had once decided her fate. "Sweet Grass Woman will always live within my heart, as will the friends I made among the Cheyenne. But it was necessary for me to become someone else in order to make my way in the white man's world."

"She is Cassandra Reynolds now," Hunter put in. "She married the long-knife captain who claimed her months ago."

"So the high-nosed Reynolds took you for his own. Why then is he not here with you? Why have you come to us at all?"

"We have come with an important message for those who would live in peace," Hunter answered.

Standing Pine's eyebrows rose. "How do you know peace is what we seek?" he demanded. "Our ally Red Cloud rides out against the white soldiers in their forts."

"But you are here," Hunter pointed out, "not in Red Cloud's encampment."

Standing Pine's mouth narrowed, and his nostrils flared. "I can be in Red Cloud's camp before moonrise tomorrow. Red Cloud would welcome me and my warriors."

Hunter seemed to shrug off the Indian's boast. "We have come to speak of peace, not of Red Cloud."

Cass held her breath, wondering how Standing Pine would respond when Hunter told him why they'd come.

As it was, Standing Pine gave Hunter no chance to explain. "Before we speak of important matters, surely you wish to refresh yourself," he suggested, suddenly all smiles and generosity. He gestured for a small, moon-faced woman to come forward. "Blue Flower, show these visitors the way to their lodge."

Cass instantly recognized her old friend and bit back a smile when she saw that Blue Flower was carrying a gurgling baby on her hip.

They followed Blue Flower through the camp to a small tepee nestled against a rise above the creek. It was freshly aired and stocked and swept. Wood stood stacked on one side of the door, and buffalo bladders of fresh water hung on the other. Beds were made up with blankets and furs, and there were woven mats spread out across the floor.

It was only when the proprieties of welcoming had been observed that Cass could reach out for Blue Flower's child.

"Oh, he is beautiful!" she cooed, taking the baby in her arms. "What is his name?"

The child looked up at her, his soft mouth bowed and his black eyes wide with wonder.

Cass smiled, enchanted by the perfection of his pudgy hands and the rosy roundness of his cheeks. She had wanted a baby of her own for as long as she could remember, and holding this child made her ache with delight and envy.

"We called him Little Sparrow," Blue Flower told her, "because he was so small when he was born. But see how he has grown since then."

"He's a wonderful big boy."

"That it is so, I owe to you. He would have died if you had not sent the cans of milk."

Cass glanced up at her friend, pleasure warming her cheeks. "I am glad there was something I could do to help."

Cass wanted to ask Blue Flower if Meggie was here. She wanted to find the little girl, to go to her and hold her as close as she was holding the other woman's child. Even if they succeeded in getting Meggie back, her time with the child could be counted in hours. Cass couldn't bear to miss so much as a single heartbeat.

Hunter paused for a moment to admire Blue Flower's child, then he excused himself to see to the horses.

The Indian woman watched him go. "Lone Hunter is a good man," she observed.

"Yes, he is," Cass answered.

"An able warrior."

Cass nodded.

"A man the women will watch with hungry eyes."

Cass looked up, startled by Blue Flower's words.

"Will you sleep with him tonight," the woman asked, "or do you wish to stay with Sharp Knife and me?"

Though Cass supposed it would be wiser to pretend to be Captain Reynolds's devoted wife, she couldn't abide the thought of being separated from Hunter when there was so much at stake.

"I will stay here," Cass told her friend.

"And what of your white husband?"

Cass sighed, remembering. "I am no longer welcome in his home, but I love his child."

"The white-haired girl."

Cassie's pulse leaped. "Is Meggie here?"

"Since yesterday," Blue Flower confirmed. "Runs Like a Doe said she must be yours. The paint was faded, but the child wore your mark upon her cheek."

"Is Meggie safe?" Cass demanded. "May I see her?"

"Is that why you have come—to take back this bright-haired child?" When Cassie nodded, the younger woman went on, "It is Runs Like a Doe's nephew who brought her in. He means to give her as part of the bride price to the family of the woman he wants to marry."

"Is there any way we can dissuade him?"

Blue Flower nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps if you made him a better offer, you could change his mind."

Cass thought about the horses they had brought, and dread clamped like talons around her heart. What would they do if the horses weren't enough to buy Meggie back?

"Where is she?" Cass demanded. "I need to see her for a little while."

The Cheyenne woman compressed her lips. "I think it is better that you wait. Man on the Right might take exception if you were to see the child. That could make a trade more difficult."

Cass glanced down at the baby in her arms. He had pursed his lips and was blowing bubbles.

"Could you wait if it was Little Sparrow they were keeping from you?"

Blue Flower hesitated, and then inclined her head. "I would wait. You have forgotten how a Cheyenne woman behaves."

"Sometimes I think I never really learned."

"Then you must pretend," the other woman offered sagely. "It is what they will expect of you."

Cass bit down on her impatience. Blue Flower was right. As much as she wanted to turn the camp upside down looking for Meggie, she must not antagonize the people with whom they would barter for Meggie's life.

As if she could read the acquiescence in Cassie's face, Blue Flower took the baby back.

"You should know," she said, tucking a blanket around her son, "that your Cheyenne husband is dead."

Cass was startled by the news. Though she harbored no affection for Gray Falcon, her enmity had faded. "What happened?" she asked.

"He has been with Red Cloud since the spring. He was killed only a few weeks ago in a battle near the fort they call Phil Kearney. They say the troopers had some magic guns..."

The rifles, Cassie thought. Those rifles had cost Fort Carr so dearly. They had cost Lila Wilcox her son and Alma Parker her husband. Now Cass learned that though the rifles had saved the lives of other soldiers, they had cost the lives of Cheyenne and Sioux warriors. What was she to think of that? Was she to grieve for those men's families? Or was she to grieve for two great peoples who refused to find a way to live in peace?

Cass drew a ragged breath. "Thank you for telling me this. I had wondered if he was here in camp."

Her duty done, Blue Flower moved on to other matters. "I would invite you and Lone Hunter to come to my husband's lodge for your meal tonight."

Cass smiled. "That would be nice."

"It pleases me to do it after all you have done for me. Do you need anything else before I go?"

Cass looked down at her grimy skirt and rumpled bodice. "I wish to be clean," she said.

"Then I will have fresh clothing brought to you," Blue Flower said as she turned to go. "Come to our lodge tonight, and after the evening meal we will see who else comes by to join us."

* * *

Hunter prowled around Standing Pine's camp for the rest of the afternoon. Under the guise of seeing to the horses, he talked to one of the older boys who was tending the herd. He learned that the warriors who had returned to the camp the day before had brought in a dozen horses and a fair-haired child.

When Hunter ambled back along the perimeter of the encampment, he saw that the drying racks behind each lodge were hung thick with drying jerky. It meant the summer hunt had been successful, and if the Cheyenne had stockpiled food enough for winter, it left the men free to go to war.

He'd already seen some preparations being made, men repainting their war shields, and their fletching arrows. Still, this band was here and not with Red Cloud.

Hunter puzzled over that meant until he chanced to offer a twist of fresh tobacco to two old men who were sitting in the sun. While he smoked with them, they explained that the camp was deeply divided between those who wanted to escalate the war and those, like Standing Pine, who favored a negotiated peace. Feeling as if he finally understood what was happening in the Cheyenne camp, Hunter headed down to the stream to bathe.

He had just donned his clean shirt, breechclout, and moccasins when a Cheyenne woman stepped out of the trees at the edge of the creek. Even though the years had streaked her hair with gray, she stood as lithe and straight as the shaft of a spear.

"Have you come for the white-haired girl?" she wanted to know.

Surely everyone in the village must have guessed why they had come, so Hunter inclined his head. "Do you know if Meggie is safe?"

The woman smiled a little. "She has been with me."

Hunter took comfort in that, though this woman was a stranger. "Then I thank you for seeing to her care. Is she all right?"

"She was frightened by being carried away. And she wants her mother."

"Then may I bring Sweet Grass Woman to see her?"

The woman pursed her lips. "That is not wise. Sweet Grass Woman has long been a friend to me and my family. Tell her Runs Like a Doe will see no harm befalls her little girl."

"And if she still wishes to hold her child?"

"Sweet Grass Woman learned the lesson of patience with great difficulty, but she will wait."

The woman's insight pleased him. "And will the brave who captured Meggie be willing to trade?"

Runs Like a Doe frowned and shook her head. "My nephew is a fool if he refuses."

Hunter fought down a swell of concern. Surely once Standing Pine understood who Meggie was and the risk of keeping her here, he would persuade the young warrior to accept what they were offering. Still, he needed to have a plan of his own for Cassie's sake.

"If he does refuse," he said softly, "I will need to know where you are keeping Meggie."

Runs Like a Doe knew what he was asking—that by answering she would betray her nephew and perhaps her tribe.

"I will bargain honestly with the man," Hunter promised. "I will address the council on Sweet Grass Woman's behalf. You are wise enough to see that this is no time to anger the whites by stealing their children. We must take Meggie back, or a great misfortune will befall your people."

The woman watched him, weighing his sincerity. "We are in the lodge farthest to the north in the circle," she finally said. "It is the one painted with three buffalo."

Hunter inclined his head. "Thank you for trusting me. I will not misuse the gift you have given me."

"And now I must trust you with something else." Runs Like a Doe eyed him for a moment then dipped her hand into the beaded medicine bag that hung on a thong around her neck. She extracted a small, cream-colored square of paper folded over and over upon itself and placed it in Hunter's hand.

"Do not look at this while you are in this camp," she instructed him. "Blue Flower says you care for Sweet Grass Woman, and I trust you to use this to help her if there is need."

Hunter tucked the tightly folded paper in his own medicine bag. "I will guard it well," he promised and turned to Runs Like a Doe with a new round of questions. But she was gone.

Cass was bathed and dressed when Hunter returned to their lodge. Her hair was neatly plaited down her back and bound with beads and leather. Her dress was made of doeskin, with a wide, fringed yoke and narrow skirt. The buttery fabric warmed the tone of Cassie's skin and delineated every curve.

He let his gaze drift over her and smiled. "You are very beautiful."

Cass ducked her head, though she was smiling, too. "It seems odd to be wearing just this after the months of corsets and stockings and petticoats."

He was struck again by the difference between who she was and who she seemed to be. She bore a white woman's delicate features and pale, bright eyes, an Indian woman's tattoo and simple grace. Yet her strength, determination, and courage were uniquely her own, as much a part of her as breathing.

Still, Hunter couldn't help wondering what she would do when they took Meggie back—where she would go and how she would live when this was over.

"Would you come back here if you could?" he asked her.

Cass looked past him as if she were seeing things he could not see. "I was never able to make a place here. I was not able to make a place among the whites. I want to find where I belong."

The question was out of his mouth before he could bite it back. "And where do you think you'll find that?"

Anywhere with you, Hunter willed her to say. Anywhere we can live and be free to love each other.

Cass averted her eyes and turned away. "I don't know."

Hunter tasted the dust of desperation on his tongue. He wanted to grab her and kiss her until she couldn't breathe. He wanted to touch her and hold her and lie with her, to bring her fulfillment. He wanted to find what it took to make her want him as much as he wanted her.

He squatted down and poked at the fire instead. "I think I'll bring in a bit more wood. It's going to be cool come morning."

Cass let out her breath as if she had been waiting for the dangerous moment to pass. "Perhaps you can do that later," she suggested. "We have been invited to supper at Blue Flower and Sharp Knife's lodge."

Carrying their bowls and spoons, Hunter and Cass walked the short distance to her friends' tepee. Lone Hunter of the Arikara was immediately accepted as a welcome guest. They ate and talked and laughed together through a pleasant meal. Just as they were finishing, Standing Pine called out and asked to enter.

Cass flashed Hunter a long, acknowledging glance as the chief spoke to each of them and settled himself by the fire. Standing Pine obviously wanted to negotiate Meggie's release in private rather than taking the matter to the council. It was another sign that all was not as it should be in this camp.

A young brave arrived and swaggered into the tepee a few minutes later. From the arrogance in his face, Hunter surmised this wasn't going to be an easy negotiation.

Man on the Right dressed like the brash young warrior he was. His clothes were thickly adorned with beads and fringe. A red-tipped roach bristled from the crown of his slicked-down hair. He wore six beaded necklaces, and bracelets rode high on each arm.

Once the introductions had been made, the newcomer took his place at Standing Pine's side and accepted the offer of Sharp Knife's pipe. Hunter took it in his turn and observed the age-old tradition of offering it to the earth and sky and to the cardinal directions before he smoked.

Once they had put the pipe away, Standing Pine turned to him. "Lone Hunter, what has brought you and Sweet Grass Woman to this camp?"

Hunter spared a glance to where Cass and Blue Flower were seated on one of the beds sewing, almost as if the discussion the men were having was of no consequence to either of them.

"We have been following the trail of a child," Hunter answered, "a little girl whose hair is as pale as winter sunshine."

Standing Pine nodded. "And what would you say if I told you we have not seen a child like that?"

"I would say I am too good a tracker to be mistaken about where she was taken."

"And why do you seek this little girl?"

"We seek her for her mother's sake."

Standing Pine looked down at his hands. "And if the mother wanted this little girl back, how much might she be willing to pay for her?"

Man to the Right stiffened. Hunter could see that the younger brave resented Standing Pine opening negotiations when he clearly preferred to keep the child.

Hunter ignored Man on the Right and played the only card he had. "Perhaps," he said, leveling a long, speculative glance at Standing Pine, "you might better ask what price the girl's father might extract from those who took his daughter."

"His daughter?" Standing Pine repeated in stunned surprise. "Whose girl is she?"

Hunter smiled. "She belongs to Sweet Grass Woman's husband, Captain Drew Reynolds."

Man on the Right sucked in his breath.

Standing Pine swallowed hard before he spoke. "Reynolds hates all Indians."

"Indeed he does," Hunter confirmed. "Imagine what will happen if he follows his daughter to this camp. Reynolds will not come to trade for her. He will come with fire in his eyes and a full company of cavalry at his back. He will want revenge on the men who stole his daughter."

Hunter glanced across at Cass. Her face was pale as the winter moon, flat and impassive. But her eyes—oh God, her eyes—seethed with fear and impatience and hope. And with the faith that he could get Meggie back for her.

Hunter tried his best not to disappoint her. "Reynolds will come riding down on this encampment like Chivington's volunteers did at Sand Creek. His men will find his daughter, and once they have, he won't care who they kill. If you do not want that to happen, give the child to us. No one need know who took her. We will make Reynolds believe that she wandered away from the fort and got lost. You and your village will be safe."

Standing Pine turned to the young warrior beside him. The choice was his to make.

Man on the Right sat silent.

"Surely you have brought something to trade," Standing Pine said, attempting to open negotiations a second time.

"There was no opportunity for me to gather trade goods," Hunter told him. "I have brought both of my extra horses, a sorrel gelding and a sweet gray mare. I trained them both. They are good ponies, deep-chested and strong."

Standing Pine looked to the younger man. "He offers two horses for the child."

"It is not enough," Man to the Right answered.

"I will give you my pistol," Hunter offered.

"It is not enough," the young brave insisted.

"My rifle and all my ammunition."

"And my beaded blanket," Cass added softly.

"And her beaded blanket," Hunter repeated. That was all they had between them.

"Reynolds will trade for his daughter," Man on the Right insisted. "He traded a wagonload of goods for her."

Without so much as looking in her direction, Hunter knew how the brave's words had wounded Cass.

"Reynolds will not trade," Hunter maintained. "The men in the forts have been waiting all summer for a reason to attack the Sioux and Cheyenne villages. Because there are treaty negotiations going on at Fort Laramie, the soldiers have not been allowed to campaign against the tribes. Stealing this child may be the spark that sets that tinder aflame."

"People may die if you do not do this," Standing Pine entreated Man on the Right.

The younger man shoved to his feet. "Then this is for the council to decide. It is a matter of war and peace. We must call a council, now, tonight. Only if they say I must trade for the army captain's child will I accept what this man has offered me."

Hunter read the trepidation in Standing Pine's face. He had come here hoping to avoid taking this question to the council where he might lose not just this question, but his position of leadership.

The older man sighed and heaved to his feet. "Very well then," he said. "Call the council together."

Man on the Right nodded his thanks to Sharp Knife and Blue Flower for their hospitality and burst out of the tent to start gathering the men together.

When Man on the Right was gone, Hunter turned to Standing Pine. "May I attend the council and explain how dangerous it is to keep the child?" he asked.

Standing Pine shook his head. "It will be better if I tell them. I will do everything I can to convince them how important it is to make this trade."

"I will speak on the child's behalf, as well," Sharp Knife offered.

It wasn't all that Hunter had hoped for, but it was all they had.

"How long will it take the council to make its decision?" Hunter asked.

Standing Pine frowned. "Most of the night, I fear. I will send word to you when we are done."

The two men left.

Hunter thanked Blue Flower for the meal and steered Cass back toward their lodge. She was coiled tight, ready to act, though certainly she realized that for this night there was nothing she could do.

Hunter wasn't sure how she would keep from coming apart while they waited for word. He wasn't sure how he could help her ease the strain. But once they had gone into the tent, once he was alone with her, Hunter sensed the only thing he could offer her.

Without saying a word, he bent and caught the hem of the buckskin dress and skimmed the sleek soft fabric up her body. He dropped his own shirt and breechclout to the floor and pulled her against him.

Cass hissed like water meeting flame as their bodies brushed. Color flared up her chest and into her cheeks. Sparks leaped between them as if they were flint and steel.

He kissed her hard, demanding a response with the heat of his mouth, the thrust of his tongue. Cass surged against him and kissed him back. Desire swept through them like a firestorm.

They fumbled toward the bed. Her skin was like pearl in the nest of furs. He rolled above her and fit his hips to hers. He brushed his manhood against her mound. Cass shivered and arched and opened her legs. In a single thrust he was inside her.

They stared into each other's eyes. Hers were wide and reckless and hot, but no wilder than Hunter's eyes must be. They panted for a space, one encompassed, one fulfilled. But neither of them satisfied.

They waited without moving, balanced, teetering, ready to fall. Tension danced through them. Excitement throbbed at the place where their bodies joined. The headlong flight to oblivion beckoned. Yet they held still, lost in each other's gaze, tempting and tempted, holding the world at bay.

He lowered his head to kiss her. His mouth moved down against her cheek, grazed her temple, lingered at the corner of her eye. She was holding her breath, waiting. And he made her wait. Made himself wait.

He did his best to make the waiting worthwhile. With the brush of his lips he teased away the frown between her brows. He kissed along the narrow bridge to the tip of her nose. He tasted the point of her chin with the swirl of his tongue.

Cass braced up on her elbows and captured his mouth with hers. Slow, taunting kisses flowed between them, their mouths drifting together and retreating, the rhythm suggestive, promising. He slid his tongue into her mouth, a sinuous second invasion nearly as intense and inflaming as the first.

She moved beneath the kiss, circling his tongue with hers, arching her back to brush her breasts against him, lifting her hips. Hunter answered her movement, pleasuring her and pleasuring himself.

Cass moaned softly, the sound a prelude, an invitation.

He moved again. She fell back against the bed, her mouth drawn in a gasp of wonder, of wanting.

He buried his face in the curve of her throat, breathing in her sweetness and her spice. He nuzzled the lobe of her ear and felt her squirm beneath him. The sensation was delicious, enticing, arousing to a man already deep in his pleasures.

He wanted her. But more important than that, he wanted her wanting him.

And it seemed she did.

"Please, Hunter," she whispered. "Will you take me now?"

As she spoke, her hands moved over him, teasing the hair that lay long against his neck, clinging to the breadth of his shoulders, trailing along his ribs. Gooseflesh blossomed wherever she touched, shivers of awareness and delight.

"Oh, Cass," he whispered, his senses filled with her. "Oh, Cass..."

Her fingers danced down his back. Her palms stroked slowly and rhythmically over his hips. He smiled to himself, pressed one more kiss against her skin, and gave her what they both wanted.

The deeper merging of their bodies brought a rush of joy scalding through them. The pleasure spread, mounting waves of delight from the point where their bodies joined. Shimmers of heat radiated down their arms and legs as they clung closer.

She arched against him, offering all of herself. He took her, moved within her, and gave back. In the splendor of endless kisses, the friction of skin on skin, white-hot need devoured them. They rose together, finding satisfaction and succor, fervor and forgetfulness in each other's arms.

When it was over they lay spent and lax and silent for a very long time. As he held her, Cassie slept. But in the darkest hour of the night, when the moon was down, Hunter felt her stir beside him. He felt the worry and the tension creep into her. He was waiting for the question when it came.

"What will we do," she whispered, "if the council decides we can't have Meggie back?"

Hunter smiled into the dark. "Then I know where they are keeping her, and we'll take our chances."

* * *

She's down there somewhere. Drew Reynolds smiled as the knowledge whispered through him. The treacherous bitch who'd stolen Meggie was in that Indian village. And so was his daughter.

Drew hunched his shoulders against the predawn chill and trained his field glasses on the encampment laid out in the bend of the stream. Thick, woolly fog all but hid it from his view, yet he could make out the sprawl of flimsy tents, the smoke of a few dying fires, and a horse picketed here and there. He could almost smell the stench of grease, dirty blankets and buckskins, and even dirtier bodies. This was where Cassie had chosen to bring his daughter, his precious Meggie. To this hellhole in the middle of the prairie. To this nest of vermin.

The banked fire in Drew's chest flared hotter when he thought how his poor little girl had been taken against her will. When he thought about how she might be cowering in one of those tepees even now, hungry, lonely, and afraid—waiting for her papa to come for her.

Perhaps he'd failed with Julia and Cassie, but he had every intention of rescuing his daughter from the savages. He was a man this time, not a frightened boy. He was an army officer with a company of men at his back, not a youth who would have been heading off into the wilderness alone. This time he wasn't trying to find two girls who were probably dead. This time he wasn't trying to do the impossible.

Drew lowered the field glasses from his eyes as one of his young lieutenants pulled up beside him on his horse.

"The men are in place, sir," Lieutenant Sparks informed him in an undertone, "set out all along the stream."

Drew nodded in acknowledgment. They were poised to sweep through the sleeping village just at dawn. It was best to take the redskins by surprise, charge in when they weren't prepared to defend themselves. John Chivington had proved that at Sand Creek. Only Chivington's volunteers had been such raw, undisciplined bastards that something that might otherwise have been heralded as a success had become an unmitigated disaster.

Drew's men, however, were meticulously trained. They all knew Meggie was in the Cheyenne camp. They all understood his objective was to get his daughter back. His men were instructed to shoot only the Indians who resisted.

"On my signal, Lieutenant Sparks," Drew confirmed softly, and listened as Sparks rode down the line passing the word.

Drew turned his eyes to the village one last time, his nerves on edge, his heart thudding. Cassie was asleep in one of those huts, too, and Drew couldn't wait to get his hands on her.

The conniving bitch had come to Fort Carr as a spy, and every single one of them had been taken in. She'd played them all so well, pretending not to understand, eliciting their sympathies, worming her way into their confidences. Everyone from Ben McGarrity on down to Lila Wilcox had been deluded.

But Cassie had made Drew the biggest fool of all, both as a military officer and as a man. He had taken her into his heart and home. He had let himself believe he could still love her, that they could somehow recapture what they'd felt for each other when they were young. He'd even married her and entrusted her with the care of his daughter. And Cassandra had betrayed him on every count.

Now she'd had the audacity to steal his daughter.

Well, Drew would bring her to justice. Every one of his men knew he wanted Cassie alive. Soon he would have her back, and when he did, he'd make Cassie pay dearly for wronging him, for wronging all of them.

Drew looked to his right and left down the long line of troopers poised to fight. They were sharp and finely trained, eager and brave. He could see it in their faces.

He nodded to the bugler and raised his hand.

The men drew their pistols in perfect unison.

Drew Reynolds smiled. "Charge!" he ordered, and the bugler began to bray the call to arms.

Now that it was too late for her to escape, he wanted Cassie Morgan to know he was coming for her.

* * *

Hunter couldn't say why they needed to be dressed and packed and saddled up well before sunrise. It was that itch, that portent he'd learned to trust. And Cassandra hadn't questioned him.

Once they were ready, he prowled around their campsite, his belly balled tight and his chest on fire. He tried to blame the uneasiness on waiting to hear Meggie's fate. He tried to tell himself that if they had a chance of getting Meggie back without a fight, he could wait this out.

But everything about this dawn unsettled him, the cooler weather that sent the dense drift of fog rising up from the creek, indistinct sounds that somehow didn't fit this place or situation. They were noises he couldn't quite place, that teased the edges of his memories. The rustle of grass, the muffled jingle of harnesses.

And then he knew.

"Jesus, Cass," he whispered, gathering up their horses' reins. "The army's out there. They're getting ready to attack."

He read the acknowledgment in Cassie's face. She felt it, too.

"It's like Sand Creek," she whispered, and grabbed his arm. "We have to get to Meggie. We have to take her out of here."

"She's with Runs Like a Doe," Hunter told her. "In her lodge."

He saw Cass nod, and with the horses in tow, they set off across the compound. She raced after him as they dodged between tepees and barely smoldering cookfires.

They were just crossing the center of the camp when the bugle sounded. Chills shot up Hunter's back at the disembodied trill.

"Hurry!" Cass shouted. "Hurry!"

Behind them, the earth rumbled with the sound of hoof-beats. The first fusillade of gunfire rattled down near the stream. It tore through the foggy silence, shattered the peace.

People burst from their lodges, half-asleep and partly dressed, disoriented by the milky dawn.

Hunter pulled his revolver and forged ahead, north toward the tepee where Meggie was being kept, the tepee painted with three buffalo.

The sound of hooves beat nearer, and Hunter turned to look just as the first cavalrymen loomed out of the mist.

The Cheyenne men grabbed up their guns and bows to defend their families. The women wailed and clutched their children. Some crouched in fear. Others scuttled away, hoping to escape.

The mounted soldiers rode them down.

Cass ran ahead of him, shouting Meggie's name.

A trooper thundered down on her, his weapon drawn.

Hunter blew him out of the saddle.

Cass kept moving. She fought her way through crosscurrents of women and children, barking dogs and stray horses. Hunter followed, dragging their own two horses after him.

By the time Cass and Hunter reached the tepee painted with three buffalo, troopers had engulfed the village. Hunter handed the horses' reins to Cass and ducked inside. A fire burned in the fire pit, and the beds were still warm to the touch. There was no sign of either Runs Like a Doe or the child she was guarding.

"Meggie!" he bellowed as he spun back outside. "Meggie!"

Cass clamped his arm, dragging furrows with her finger nails. "You mean she's gone?" she demanded. "You mean Meggie isn't here?"

Hunter shook his head.

"How are we going to find her now?"

Chaos had erupted around them. Not five yards away a trooper trampled a woman beneath his horse's hooves. A tepee went up in flames off to their right. A brave and a cavalryman fought hand to hand, rolling through the remains of last night's fire.

"Meggie!" Cassie screamed, her face contorted with fear. "Oh, please! Meggie!"

A tiny girl came flying toward them from around the back of the tepee. She was sobbing and covered with blood.

"Are you hurt?" Cassie dragged her palms over the little girl, searching for injuries. "Oh God, Meggie, are you hurt?"

"Oh, Cassie," Meggie gasped. "They shot the Indian lady."

"Where?"

Hunter grabbed her arm. "We don't have time—"

But Meggie had disappeared around the back of the tent. Cass jerked away and followed. Runs Like a Doe lay sprawled and broken in the grass.

"Oh, my friend!" Cass cried, and dropped to her knees beside the older woman.

"I kept her safe—for you," Runs Like a Doe whispered. "I covered your child with my body so the bluecoats would not see her..."

"And I thank you," Cass whispered back. "Now, let me help—"

"Too late—" she breathed, "—for me. You go." She nodded toward where Hunter stood. "He is a good man. Let him take you where it is safe."

Hunter grabbed Cassie's arm. "Come on."

Cass hesitated for one long moment to squeeze Runs Like a Doe's hand in a final farewell.

In that moment a cavalry officer loomed out of the dust not ten yards away. Hunter instinctively raised his gun. But though the man stared hard at them, he made no move. Cass thrust to her feet and pushed Meggie behind her, standing straight, staring back at the man as if the rest of the world had fallen away.

All at once, Hunter realized it was Drew Reynolds. Drew who had come for Meggie. Drew who had unleashed this carnage. Hunter reached for Cassie to pull her away.

Then Drew swung his arm in a wide, encompassing stroke and shouted something Hunter couldn't hear.

But Cass had heard. She pulled Meggie up onto her hip and darted toward the edge of the compound. Hunter caught up and took the lead. Now more than half of the tepees were ablaze. The air was thick with smoke, alive with cries of challenge and fury and pain. Bursts of gunfire rattled around them.

Cass stayed at his heels, holding Meggie against her with one hand and carrying a cavalry pistol she'd picked up somewhere.

The horses danced and fought the reins, growing ever more restive with the constant firing and the smell of smoke and blood. If they could get beyond the outer ring of tents, Hunter thought, if they could get into that little dry gully to the west of the camp, they could mount up and get out of here.

Just then a pair of cavalrymen rode in from their right. Their bullets kicked up dirt just ahead of Cass and Meggie. Hunter wheeled on the troopers and fired.

One of the men slumped over and fell from his saddle. The other turned and aimed. Hunter dodged to the left, but he wasn't quick enough.

The bullet slammed into his thigh. Hunter went down hard, pain tearing the length of his leg and up into his groin. Cass suddenly stood over him, still holding Meggie. She raised her pistol and fired. When he looked, the second cavalryman's saddle was empty.

"You shot him!" he said.

"Yes," she answered, and bent beside him to probe the wound.

The pain flared up like grease on a fire. Hunter went clammy and sick.

"It hit muscle, not bone," she told him.

"That's good," he panted. "Now help me up."

"I need to clean this, tie it up, stop the bleeding."

"There isn't time."

He could see she knew that, too. With Cassie's help Hunter fought his way to his feet. She wrapped the horses' reins in one hand and slid her other arm around Hunter's waist.

"Meggie, stay close," she ordered.

Together they stumbled forward. Hunter went sweaty and cold. His stomach lurched. He could hear that Cass's breathing was nearly as ragged as his. He wondered just how much farther that gully was. He couldn't seem to judge distances in the swirl of dust and fog and smoke. But all at once they were at the edge of it.

The three of them plunged over the rim and stumbled down the shallow slope. Pain swept over Hunter as his legs worked. Blood soaked down his pants. The sick, clammy feeling swept over him again.

He grabbed for the skirt of one of the saddles and held on hard. His heartbeat reverberated inside his ribs. There was a roaring in his ears. The world went white around him.

"Hunter?" Cass's voice reached him from far away.

"This always happens when I get shot," he told her, and then wasn't sure he'd said the words aloud.

"How many times have you been shot?" It was Meggie's voice, Meggie's insatiable curiosity. He tried to answer, but his thoughts seemed so disjointed and slow.

All he knew was that Cass was kneeling beside him, touching him, wrapping something around his leg. He was shaking, tingling all over, cold down to his bones. He longed to lie down somewhere, but was afraid he'd never get back on his feet.

"This makes four," he said when his head began to clear.

"Can you ride?" Cass was standing beside him, half holding him up.

Hunter could hear the battle going on, could see that there were others who had taken refuge in the gully. It wouldn't be long before the army found them. He just couldn't think where to go from here.

"Can you ride?" Cass asked again, more than a little impatient.

He smiled at her, or tried to. "I can ride."

"Good," Cass said. "And I know where we'll be safe."

It took three tries for Hunter to get onto his horse, and once he was in the saddle, the whiteness came again. He heard Cass cut the extra horses loose, toss Meggie into the saddle, and climb up behind her. He felt the jerk as they started off and hung on to the saddle horn with all the strength he had.

Cass was taking them someplace safe. He closed his eyes and trusted her.