Chapter 24

For all my world is in your arms,
My sun and stars are you.

—SARA TEASDALE

 

 

 

The hot August sun was slowly burning away the blue haze of morning. Fearing the posse, and saddened over her uncle being among those men who were after Dancing Cloud, and even herself, Lauralee fought hard to keep up with Dancing Cloud.

But oh, how she missed the comforts of her buggy. She had never stayed on a horse for so long. Her thighs ached. Her bottom was numb and seemed glued to the saddle.

Yet she still forced her steed into a hard gallop now that the forest and the slight mountain ridge had been left behind. They had come out on a smooth meadow. The grass was green and high. A stream of cold, clear water ran along one edge, watering the valley.

Lauralee’s eyes feasted on the water as she rode alongside the stream. Her throat was parched. Her lips burned. Dirt seemed plastered to her face.

“Dancing Cloud,” she cried. “Please, darling. I need a drink. I need to stretch my weary, aching bones. Can’t we please stop for at least a few moments? The water. I can hardly pass it up. I’m so thirsty. I have never been as thirsty.”

Dancing Cloud wheeled his horse to a quick stop.

Sighing with relief, Lauralee followed his lead.

He rode up to Lauralee and reached a gentle hand to her cheek. “Yes, o-ge-ye, we will stop for water,” he said thickly. “We have left the posse far behind us.”

He yawned and stretched his arms high above his head. “I do not like confessing to how my body needs rest,” he said.

“Dancing Cloud, you have just cause to be tired,” Lauralee said softly. “You were recently wounded. You have not fully regained your strength.”

Her gaze lowered and she gaped openly with alarm when she saw blood spreading on his buckskin shirt, over his shoulder wound. “Lord, Dancing Cloud,” she gasped. “The stitches may have broken loose. We must stop now. You have pushed yourself much more than your body can tolerate. I will bathe your wound. I will get a petticoat from my valise and rip it into strips for a bandage.”

Dancing Cloud looked down at the seepage of blood through his shirt. He reached a hand there and slightly pressed his fingers against it, wincing when pain shot through his wound.

Lauralee saw Dancing Cloud’s discomfort. “See?” she said, her jaw tight with determination. She tried to hide her own discomfort when sliding from the saddle made her aches worsen. She could hardly stand placing her full weight on her feet. There was not one inch of her body that did not ache worse than any toothache that she had ever experienced.

Forcing herself not to react to her discomfort, Lauralee secured her horse’s reins to a low limb of a tree, then took Dancing Cloud’s reins and secured them with her own.

She turned to Dancing Cloud. She frowned with worry as she slowly pushed his fringed buckskin shirt over his head.

She dropped the shirt with alarm when she realized the seriousness of what the hard travel had caused. Several threads were hanging bloody and twisted from his wound, his skin open and raw as blood trickled in a tiny stream from it.

“Damn them,” she said, hating the posse, even her uncle. “Damn them all. Why couldn’t they leave us alone?”

She gazed sadly into Dancing Cloud’s eyes. “Why couldn’t they have believed us?” she murmured. “Especially my Uncle Abner. He saw the sort of man you were. It seems impossible that he could truly believe you are guilty of having stolen that stallion.”

“White men believe what they wish about men with red skin,” Dancing Cloud said, his voice drawn. “Your uncle’s skin is white. Why should he be different from the others?”

He clasped gentle hands to her shoulders. “And remember this, my o-ge-ye,” he said softly. “I am not only Indian. I am also labeled a Rebel. So you see? There are too many things about me that brought anger into the heart and eyes of those who call me a horse thief. Do you not see that this Cherokee need not do anything to be accused? In the white man’s hearts, this Cherokee is already guilty.”

“It’s so unfair,” Lauralee said, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.

“Many things in life are not fair,” Dancing Cloud said thickly. “You live. You die. That is the way it has been from the beginning of time. What you do between those two certainties is up to each individual. Whether they leave a life they can be proud of? Or whether they choose to be heathen-like. I chose to walk with a proud chin and heart. Those who chase me down now as though I’m no better than a dog? They are of the breed of man whose life is filled with hate and vengeance.”

“I hate to think that of my uncle,” Lauralee said, her voice breaking. “During the short time I was with my aunt and uncle I grew fond of them. I wish that I were wrong about how I am feeling about my uncle now. I see him as . . . as . . . a cad.”

She looked at his wound again, then grabbed his hand and led him to the stream. “Sit, please,” she murmured. “Let me bathe your wound.”

“First I will find a tassel flower plant,” he said softly. “From its dry-powdered leaf I will make a poultice that will draw the blood from my wound.”

After gathering up several of the dry-powdered leaves, Dancing Cloud eased down on the ground, welcoming this moment of reprieve off his horse. He folded his legs beneath him and watched and smiled at Lauralee’s attentiveness to him, in how she cupped the water into her hands, and how she leaned her hands over his wound and allowed the water to trickle freely and slowly across it.

“Are you certain it is all right to place the poultice on the wound?”

“Do you not know that the Indian ofttimes knows more about the property of plants and the cure of diseases than does the trained white botanist or physician?” he said matter-of-factly. “Living as we do in the open air in close communion with nature, we know well the knowledge of properties of plants.”

“I would do anything to see that you are well,” Lauralee said, applying the herbal poultice to his flesh.

“The plant world is friendly to the human species and constantly at the wil1ing service of those in need of their services,” Dancing Cloud said softly.

Lauralee smiled at him, then went to her valise and removed a cotton petticoat from it. She rushed back to Dancing Cloud, surprised when she found him stretched out on his back, asleep. So quickly he had gone to sleep. So easily.

But then why wouldn’t he, she thought to herself. While she had gotten a moment’s sleep back at their campsite, he had kept a lookout. Had he not, the posse would have swept down upon them like a swarm of hornets.

The trees whispered peacefully overhead as the breeze sighed through them. Lauralee found that she was suddenly drowsy, yet she shook off the need of sleep and continued with the task at hand. She ripped long strips of cloth from her petticoat. She bent low over Dancing Cloud. She had a hard time lifting his right shoulder to wrap the bandage around it and beneath his arm. His muscled body seemed the weight of lead as he slept.

But after a while she had the wound comfortably covered. When he awakened she would take a few turns with the bandage across his massive, muscled chest and secure it at his back with a knot.

Lauralee moved to her knees and gazed down at Dancing Cloud with an intense love. She drew a ragged breath. How could anyone accuse him of anything vile?

There was such a gentleness in his expression as he slept. She dared to touch his lips, their sensual fullness. She ran her fingers then across the lean line of his jaw, a jaw that showed strength.

Her pulse racing, she then ran her fingers over his fine-boned frame, across his sleek, copper chest, and then along his broad shoulders.

Again she ran her fingers across his cheeks, along features that were sharply chiseled and masculine.

“Oh, how I love you,” she whispered. She leaned over him and gave him a soft kiss on his lips. “How I adore you.”

Realizing that she needed rest now, she sighed languorously. She crawled to the water. Bending low over it she cupped her hands into it and brought the fresh, cold liquid to her mouth and drank it. She smiled over at the horses. They had wandered to the water and were lapping up long drinks.

Her eyes burned with the need of sleep. She crawled back to Dancing Cloud. She gazed down at him again, then turned her eyes to peer into the distance. Slowly she raked the horizon with them, looking for riders. Dare she give in to her need to sleep?

But dare she not? If she did not get adequate rest how could she go on? Her body was not conditioned to such punishments as riding a horse for long hours, or lack of sleep and rest.

And although her stomach growled with her need of food, sleep and rest seemed more important at this moment. When Dancing Cloud awakened they would take time to eat some more of the provisions that she had taken from her aunt’s pantry.

“Now the sheriff can add ‘thief’ to my itinerary while posting wanted posters on me for helping a prisoner escape,” she said.

Too weary to think further on the present mishaps of her life, Lauralee sank to the ground and folded herself against Dancing Cloud’s side. She snuggled close, her one arm thrown over his chest. The drifting off to sleep felt so soft and delicious.

* * *

Lauralee and Dancing Cloud awakened with a start at the same moment when the sound of approaching horses drew closer. They had no chance to rise to their feet. Too soon the posse was there, circled around them on three sides.

Feeling trapped and breathless, Lauralee grabbed for Dancing Cloud’s hand. Her eyes locked with her uncle’s as he dismounted his horse. She gulped hard when he came to her and Dancing Cloud and stood over them, his hands on his hips just above his low-slung Colts.

Her gaze then shifted to Sheriff Decker as he slid out of his saddle and came and stood beside Abner. And then to Deputy Dobbs who sauntered to Sheriff Decker’s other side.

Dancing Cloud eyed his rifle. He had been careless to have left it in its gun boot at the side of his horse. But being so tired and sleepy, his logic had not been as sharp as it should have been.

He slipped an arm around Lauralee. Easily and guardedly he eased her up from the ground with him. His gaze searched slowly from man to man as they stood cold-silent and stiff before him and Lauralee.

Then his attention shifted back to Abner Peterson when he took Lauralee’s hand and urged her forward, away from Dancing Cloud. His insides tightened as he waited to see what Peterson’s next moves might be, and what he decided to do about Lauralee. Could he forgive her for having helped Dancing Cloud escape? Or was she a criminal now in the white man’s eyes?

“Uncle Abner, please don’t take us back to Mattoon,” Lauralee pleaded.

“Lauralee, you assisted in an escape,” Abner said. “Don’t you know the extent of that crime? How you might be sentenced to life imprisonment? Or worse yet—to a hanging?”

Lauralee paled. Her throat constricted, making it impossible for her to speak to her uncle. She wanted to scream at her uncle—ask him how he could treat her this way? If her father were alive, he would come and make Abner Peterson pay for what he was doing, not only to his daughter, but to his close, loyal friend.

But she could not find the words. She was filled with an angry despair only known by her one other time in her life—when her mother had been assaulted.

Dancing Cloud stepped up beside Lauralee. “I go willingly back with you to stand trial,” he said, balding his wrists out for handcuffs. “But spare your niece of such humiliation. She does not deserve to be treated as a common criminal. She released an innocent man. She is as innocent, herself.”

Lauralee’s eyes pooled with tears as she looked up at Dancing Cloud. Then she gasped and grew weak in the knees when Paul Brown rode up. He had apparently lagged behind the others. With him, tied by a rope into his reins, was the beautiful, sleek white stallion that was the cause for all of these misunderstandings.

Her thoughts became scrambled.

Where had Paul gotten the horse?

Why had he brought it here?

“Paul, bring the stallion to me,” Abner said, turning to smile at Paul as he dismounted.

Dancing Cloud’s heart raced at the sight of the horse and what it might mean. If they had the stallion, then they surely had the true criminal!

But if so, why had the posse been so hell-bent on trailing him and Lauralee?

They had been unmerciful in their pursuit!

Lauralee’s eyes widened in disbelief when Paul brought the horse to her uncle, who in turn, placed the reins in Dancing Cloud’s hands.

“He’s yours, Dancing Cloud,” Abner said, his eyes wavering over at Lauralee. He then looked at Dancing Cloud. “Damn it, Dancing Cloud, you deserve the horse. And there’ll be nobody questioning your ownership. He’s bought and paid for. I paid for him.”

Lauralee’s head was spinning. “Uncle Abner, I don’t understand any of this,” she said, watching how proudly Dancing Cloud stroked the stallion’s sleek mane. “Does this mean that you found the true criminal?”

“Sure as hell did,” Abner said in a low, tight growl. “The very man who owned him is the guilty party.”

“Kevin Banks?” Lauralee gasped. “How? Why?”

“To make it look had for Dancing Cloud,” Abner said. He took Lauralee’s hands and drew her into his embrace. “Honey, Kevin hid the horse. He said that Dancing Cloud stole it. He made up the lie about the Pratt boy having seen Dancing Cloud snooping around the corral that night, near the stallion. Kevin hoped that Dancing Cloud would hang for the crime.”

Lauralee’s eyes searched Abner’s. “But why would he do such a thing?” she said, her voice soft and drawn.

“You know the answer already. Dancing Cloud is an Indian and he fought against the North, and . . .” Abner said, pausing to glance over at Dancing Cloud.

Then he turned back to Lauralee. “And because Kevin did not see it fit for a white woman to be cavorting with an Indian.”

Lauralee blushed and quickly lowered her eyes.

Then she just as quickly and stubbornly gazed up at Abner again. “Kevin Banks is an evil, vile man,” she said, jerking her hands from her uncle’s. She clenched them into fists at her sides. “I hope that he’s behind bars now.”

“Yes,” Abner said, sighing. “He’s incarcerated. Thanks to my snooping around, he’s behind bars, Lauralee. I just couldn’t rest easy with Dancing Cloud being accused of stealing that horse. It came to me that night of the fire. I awakened with a start that Kevin might be lying. By damn, Lauralee, I found the stallion locked up in a shed on property only a few feet away from The Stables.”

Lauralee’s eyes wavered as she smiled wanly up at her uncle. “The fire,” she murmured. “Did it totally destroy your building?”

Now beginning to relax with the whole situation, Abner laughed loosely. “Yes, by damn, to the ground,” he said, nodding. “And arson is suspected. But I tell you, honey, if I ever caught up with the son of a gun that set fire to that shack, I’d not place him behind bars. I’d offer him a handshake for having gotten rid of the place for me.”

Lauralee started to blurt out that she had done it, then decided not to. If the sheriff had a mind to, he could arrest her for aiding and abetting in the release of a prisoner; stealing from her aunt; and setting fire to her uncle’s building. One thing had led to another until she had a string of crimes lined up behind her.

“During the commotion of the fire you helped Dancing Cloud escape?” Abner said, frowning down at her, as though he had just read her thoughts. “Didn’t you know the dangers, Lauralee, of setting a man free from jail?”

“I’d do it all over again if Dancing Cloud was arrested a second time,” Lauralee said with a lifted chin. Then her eyes softened into her uncle’s. “He is free now to go on to his village, isn’t he? You don’t plan to arrest me, do you, for my criminal act tonight?”

“You’re both free to go,” Abner said, stepping around Lauralee. He placed a hand on Dancing Cloud’s shoulder. “Son, I know I’d be wasting my time asking Lauralee to return to Mattoon with me. Any woman who’d put her life on the line for a man like she did proves just how much she loves the man. She’ll be going on with you to your mountain home. Take care of her. Guard her with your life. She’s precious, Dancing Cloud. Precious.”

Tears flowed from Lauralee’s eyes. She flung herself into her uncle’s arms. “Thank you,” she murmured. “Thank you so much.”

She looked over her shoulder at Paul Brown. They exchanged warm smiles.