Cheyenne Wife

It took a few seconds before his words sank in.

“Are you saying I don’t have as much sense as a horse?” she demanded. Lily scrambled to her feet. “How dare you! You don’t even know me, nor do you have the slightest idea of what sort of person I am, yet you have the gall to stand there and—”

“We have to go back to the fort,” he said and reached for her arm.

Lily jerked away. “I have no intention of going anywhere with you.”

“It’s a longer walk back than you think. It will be dark soon.”

She squared her shoulders, a strength she hadn’t felt a moment ago suddenly filling her. “I’ll manage, thank you just the same.”

He gestured toward the horizon and the orange glow of the setting sun. “Coyotes prowl at sundown. There’re snakes.”

Lily drew in a great breath. “I’ll go back to the fort when I choose. And I’ll get there on my own.”

“You won’t make it,” North said, anger creeping into his voice. “Most of the men at the fort will end up out here searching for you, risking their own lives.”

And she wasn’t worth it, his look seemed to say.

A sickly feeling wound through Lily’s stomach, shame that this man thought so little of her. Memories of the weeks on the Trail came back to her, the other women caring for their families, tending to them with practiced ease. She’d been unprepared for the journey. She’d known it from the start. She still knew it. But, somehow, seeing that look on North’s face hurt worst of all.

“I don’t need your help,” Lily said, holding up her chin.

A long moment dragged by while North just looked at her. Finally, he simply nodded.

“Fine,” he said, then mounted his horse and headed toward the fort.

Lily gasped and her eyes rounded at the sight of him riding away. He was leaving her? Actually riding away? Abandoning her here so far from the fort, in the middle of nowhere?

“Wait!” She ran after him. “Stop!”

She caught up with him. North rested his hand on the saddle horn and glared down, the brim of his hat shading his eyes.

“You’re—you’re not going to leave me out here, are you?” she exclaimed. She drew herself up, thinking of the nastiest thing she could call him. “You, Mr. Walker, are no gentleman.”

He gave her a long, slow once-over that sent a strange warmth flooding through her. Heat crept up her neck and onto her cheeks, then arrowed downward to the center of her belly. Still, Lily refused to look away.

Finally, North shook his head, almost to himself, and climbed down from the horse.

Relieved, but still clinging to her pride, Lily said, “I decided that it would be prudent to accept your offer and—Oh!”

North grasped her waist and hoisted her upward, plopping her into the saddle. Lily grasped a handful of mane to keep from tumbling backward off the other side, then glared down at him. He glared right back.

An odd warmth leaped from him, covered her, touched her in strange places. She’d assumed he thought her worthless, but the look on his face made her feel as if—

Lily broke eye contact, afraid—but of what she wasn’t sure.

North picked up the reins, then reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out his handkerchief. He held it up to Lily.

Stunned, she looked at it for a moment. The white, pressed linen fabric. His big hard long fingers. She’d complained earlier that she had no handkerchief. He’d remembered.

Without a word, Lily accepted it. North led the horse toward the fort.

In the moonlight the fort looked almost pleasant, Lily thought as she gazed out the window of her room. She rested her arm on the sill, looking up at the stars, searching them for—

What? A glimpse into the future? A window into her own heart?

When they’d drawn close to the fort this evening, Lily had jumped from the horse, marched right past North and entered the fort alone. She’d hurried to her room, not bothering to even thank him.

Not that he deserved to be thanked, after the way he’d insulted her.

Yet it was her pride that hurt more than anything. He thought little of her, and she’d done nothing to prove him wrong.

But what was she to do? She didn’t belong in this place, was totally unprepared for life here in the uncivilized West. Yet, somehow, North’s low opinion of her still hurt.

Sighing into the dark night, Lily decided this was but further proof that she should leave immediately for her aunt’s home in Richmond.

She’d be glad to go. She’d miss nothing about this hard, unforgiving land. The land that had taken her father and the last chance she’d ever have to know what it was like for the two of them to be a family.

North floated through her mind. Tall, wide shoulders. So strong. He’d lifted her into the saddle with no effort. And he was handsome, surprisingly handsome. When Oliver Sykes had stopped by her room to check on her a short while ago, she’d casually—she hoped—asked about North. An English father and a Cheyenne mother, Sykes had said. His mixed heritage had blended to give him a unique handsomeness, to Lily’s mind.

Her stomach warmed at the memory of the two of them beneath the cottonwood tree. He belonged here in this land. He was strong and brave and rugged. Everything this place demanded.

And she wasn’t. A thread of sadness filled Lily’s heart at the thought. Then alarm took its place.

North had seemed decent enough under the cottonwood. But he was, after all, half-Indian. Half-savage. What if his Cheyenne side had presented itself at that particular moment? Would he have ravished her? Scalped her? Left her for dead?

A chill ran up Lily’s spine. She had to leave this place. Tomorrow she’d make the arrangements.

She’d get to her aunt’s home in Virginia—no matter what it took.

Chapter Four

Gray clouds hung over the fort, stretching to the horizon, heavy with the threat of rain. The morning breeze tugged at the loose strands of Lily’s hair as she crossed the plaza.

She stepped inside the trade room, the economic heart of Bent’s Fort, the primary reason for its existence in this vast wilderness. Here, merchandise, goods and services were traded or sold to Indians and trappers, travelers and explorers.

As she hoped, Lily found Hiram Fredericks and Oliver Sykes busy at work among the dry goods, hardware, tools, guns and knives.

The two of them had done so much to help her these past few days, they deserved her thanks and so very much more. That was, however, all that she could offer these two fine gentlemen, in light of her newly discovered financial straits.

“Good morning,” she greeted, and managed a small smile as she cross the room.

Both men looked up from the desk they were huddled around, and smiled in return, looking a little surprised but pleased to see her.

“How’re you doing, Miss St. Claire?” Sykes inquired, giving her an earnest look, setting aside the stack of papers in his hand.

“Well enough,” she said, trying to push her chin up a little and sound brave, “considering the circumstances, of course.”

“Of course,” Fredericks agreed.

“Could I trouble you gentlemen for a little information?” Lily asked, pushing on.

“Sure thing,” Sykes told her and leaned forward just a little.

“How soon before one might expect a wagon train to come up from Santa Fe, through the fort, bound for the East?” Lily asked.

Wagons routinely made the journey east from Santa Fe, loaded with handwoven blankets, buffalo robes, furs and other riches that would be sold in Eastern markets. The trade route worked both ways.

“Oh, we get wagons through here every week or so. Sometimes more often than that.” Sykes glanced at Fredericks for confirmation.

“Yeah, about that often, I’d say,” Fredericks agreed, stroking his chin.

“Fine,” Lily said, a sense of relief coming over her. “I’ll join the next wagon train that passes through heading east.”

She’d thought about it most of the night, tossing and turning on the little cot in her room, then pacing across the floor and staring out the window, until she’d come up with a plan.

While she had no money to pay her way east, she did own a wagon—albeit a damaged wagon—which was surely worth something and could be offered in trade. If that failed, she could provide a service of some sort to the travelers. Take care of young children, perhaps, or act as a schoolmarm on the trip. She could give art instruction, read books or poetry.

If, of course, any sort of payment was required. Surely, the people of the train would appreciate her plight and allow her to travel with them.

Fredericks nodded his understanding. “Seems like leaving is the sensible thing to do. I mean, for a woman like you, that is.”

He’d said it kindly enough, but an insult lurked there just the same. Lily felt its sting, yet couldn’t disagree.

“Would you be kind enough to let me know when the next wagon comes through, so I can be on my way?” she asked the men.

“Sure thing, Miss St. Claire. You can head on back East any time you like,” Fredericks said. His expression hardened. “As soon as you settle your debts here, of course.”

She blinked up at him. “My…debts?”

Fredericks and Sykes nodded in unison.

“Hiram’s got it all writ down, nice and neat,” Sykes said, and wagged his finger toward Fredericks and the desk. “Show her the ledger, Hiram.”

“Ledger…?” Her stomach jerked into a knot. “But I thought—”

“Thought what?” Sykes asked, and gave her a hard look. He shifted closer. “You didn’t think all this stuff here was free, did you?”

A rush of embarrassment—and panic—coursed through Lily.

Fredericks pushed aside some papers on his desk, searching until he found the ledger. He opened it and flipped through the pages.

“Here we go, Miss St. Claire,” he said, finding the spot. “I got a whole page, just for you.”

Lily gulped. “A whole page?”

“Now, first off,” he said, holding the ledger at arm’s length, “there’s meals. Three a day, every day you were here, plus the cost of bringing them to your room. And meals for your pa, of course.”

“But Papa didn’t even eat—”

“Then there’s the laundry you wanted done,” Fredericks said, running his finger along the page, “and the cost of your room. An extra charge for two people together, of course.”

“Papa was sick,” Lily implored. “I needed to be at his side—”

“Doctor’s expenses,” Fredericks went on. “Two visits a day, at your request. Medicine, bandages, that sort of thing.”

Footsteps, shuffling feet sounded behind Lily and she sensed other men coming into the room, adding to her embarrassment.

“Then there’s board and care for your horses,” Fredericks said.

“My horses were stolen!”

“That don’t mean they didn’t eat while they were here,” Sykes pointed out.

“And then there’s storage on your wagon,” Mr. Fredericks continued.

“It was ransacked!”

Fredericks paused, and he and Sykes looked at each other as if considering the point she’d just made.

“Somebody get Sam over here,” Sykes called over Lily’s head, then said to her, “Sam Becker. He’s the blacksmith that took care of your horses and wagon.”

She glanced behind her and saw one of the men lean out the door and yell.

“Let’s see now, what else?” Fredericks squinted at the page. “Oh, yeah. There’s the funeral. Making the casket, digging the grave, of course, carving your pa’s name into the cross.”

“I did the carving myself,” Sykes said to Lily and grinned proudly. “Thought it was a nice touch, if I do say so myself.”

“Well, I guess that’s about it. So there you have it. That’s everything,” Fredericks announced, closing the ledger with a snap. “As soon as you pay up, Miss St. Claire, you’re free to be on your way.”

Lily’s breath came in quick little heaves, making her heart pounded harder in her chest. She owed these men money? A lot of money? And they wouldn’t let her leave this retched place until she paid them?

“But—but I don’t have any money,” Lily said, spreading her hands.

The two men exchanged a troubled look, then both shook their heads.

“Well, now,” Sykes said. “I guess we got ourselves a problem.”

“I guess we do,” Fredericks agreed.

A little murmur went through the gathering of men situated behind Lily. They’d overheard every word spoken in the room, knew it was a private conversation, yet they’d stayed as if she and her plight were their morning entertainment. Lily’s embarrassment deepened.

Fredericks looked up suddenly and smiled broadly. “Morning, Sam. Come on in here.”

Sam Becker, the blacksmith, murmured a greeting to the men in the room, then shouldered his way past Lily to stand beside Fredericks and Sykes. She’d seen him around the fort, but had never been introduced. He was young, short, thick chested, with muscular arms and meaty hands. He was always sweating.

Fredericks opened the ledger once more, then gave Becker a rundown on Lily’s situation. Becker looked over the older man’s shoulder and nodded.

“I don’t think it’s fair that I be charged for boarding my horses when they were stolen while in your care,” Lily said, trying to remain calm.

Becker looked up at Lily and dragged the back of his hand across his damp brow, leaving a smudged trail of dirt all the way across. He shrugged. “Knock a dollar off my bill,” he said to Fredericks.

“A dollar?” Lily gasped.

Fredericks made a notation in the ledger, then presented it to Lily. “There’s your total, Miss St. Claire.”

Her eyes widened. She felt light-headed. It was a fortune. An absolute fortune. How would she ever manage to pay it?

“I—I have the wagon,” she said and heard the desperation in her own voice. “Would you take that in trade?”

Fredericks and Sykes turned to Becker. He shook his head.

“That wagon of yours ain’t worth what it’d take to roll it off a cliff,” he said to Lily, shaking his head sadly. “Whoever stole your stuff ripped the canvas all to hell— Pardon me for saying so, ma’am. It’s tore up real bad on the inside, too. Running gear’s not much better.”

“But what about my belongings?” Lily offered hopefully. “Surely the vandals left something of value I could trade with.”

Becker shrugged. “All that’s left inside is a bunch of fancy dresses, some dishes, books—nothing that’s worth nothing.”

“Those dresses were designed and sewn by the finest seamstress in the East,” Lily insisted. “And the china is a pattern designed specifically for my family, sent all the way from—”

“You got anything of real value?” Fredericks asked her, cutting her off. “Tools? Whiskey?”

“Well…no,” Lily admitted.

“Huh…” Fredericks stroked his chin and looked back and forth between Sykes and Becker. “What you reckon we ought to do with her?” he asked them.

The three men gazed at Lily and it took all her willpower not to blush.

“How’s your cooking?” Sykes asked.

“Well, I don’t actually cook,” Lily said, then forced a hopeful smile. “I supervise cooks.”

Fredericks shook his head. “You got any sort of a trade?”

“No, not exactly,” Lily admitted.

“Well, what can you do?” Becker asked, looking her up and down.

“I can paint—I’m especially gifted with watercolors—and I embroider,” Lily announced. She drew herself up straighter. “I can plan a party for a hundred people, supervise a large domestic staff—”

“We’re not planning to have no parties any time soon,” Sykes said.

“And our domestic staff?” Becker said. “We gave them the summer off.”

A round of chuckles erupted from the men gathered in the trade room behind Lily. She blushed red, the heat burning her cheeks.

The laughter was followed by a long, uncomfortable silence as the three men continued to look at Lily, assessing her value.

“She can’t do anything,” Fredericks proclaimed, sounding the death kneel on Lily’s worth. “She’s too small to do any real work, she’s got no trade, no skills.”

Becker and Sykes nodded in agreement.

Lily’s embarrassment deepened because they were right. She really was of no value here in the West.

Yet might that work in her favor? Hope sprang in Lily’s thoughts. Since she was so obviously of no value to anyone here at the fort, would they simply let her leave, let her go on her way, knowing they couldn’t possibly recoup their money?

“I know people—wealthy people—in Saint Louis,” Lily said, her spirits lifting. “If you’ll just let me leave here, I’ll send your money back—every penny—as soon as I set foot in the city. I swear I will.”

“Naw,” Fredericks said, shaking his head. “That’s not a good idea.”

“How do we know you’d really send it?” Sykes proposed, then added, “No offense, Miss St. Claire.”

“We need the money before you leave,” Fredericks said, announcing it with a finality that caused Lily’s stomach to jerk into a tighter knot.

Lily’s mind spun. Her father’s business associates, friends in Saint Louis would send the money to her here at the fort. Aunt Maribel would gladly do the same. But it would take weeks—months, even—for her message requesting the money to be delivered and the funds sent to her here at the fort.

Revulsion tightened around her heart. She couldn’t—absolutely could not—stay at this fort for that length of time.

Mr. Sykes looked at her one more time, then sighed heavily and said, “Well, I guess there’s only one thing we can do.”

Lily’s hopes soared. She leaned forward trying to hear the three men as they crowded together and whispered. She prayed—desperately—that the men would take pity on her and simply let her leave.

“All right, then, it’s settled,” Sykes said when the huddle broke up. “Here’s what we’ve decided to do for you, Miss St. Claire. We’ve decided to set you up in business, right here at the fort.”

“Business?” Lily asked, stunned.

“Makes sense. Good sense,” Becker said, eyeing her critically, seeming to see her a little differently now. “After all, you’re just about the only white woman around these parts.”

Alarm spread through Lily. “What sort of business?”

Sykes shrugged. “You’re a pretty little thing, even if you can’t do much.”

“What sort of business?”

“Here’s how we’ll work things,” Fredericks explained. “We’ll give you a room here in the fort. Once word gets out, well shoot, I expect we’ll have men lined up all the way out the gate.”

“Are you suggesting that I become a—a—” Lily struggled to find her breath. “A—prostitute?”

“You got any better idea?” Sykes asked.

Raw fear raced through Lily. She backed up and turned, looking for an escape. But more men had come into the trade room and were blocking the door. And every one of them leered at her, as if contemplating her naked.

“I—I can’t possibly…” she said, shaking her head frantically.

“We’ll give you a break on your room rent,” Fredericks told her.

“N-no, I can’t—”

“Then you’d better figure some other way to come up with the cash you owe us,” Sykes told her.

“There must be something else you can do,” Lily insisted. “Please, I can’t—”

“Get her a room close to the kitchen,” Becker suggested. “More convenient that way.”

“And I’ll put up a sign,” Sykes offered.

“Paint it red,” Becker advised.

“No!” Lily insisted.

“Don’t worry,” Fredericks said. “You’ll pay off your debts in a couple months’ time.”

“Listen to me.” Lily clenched her fists. “You can’t force me to do this.”

“Then how are you going to pay us?” Fredericks demanded, his voice growing angry. “Do you think you can just waltz in here with your high-handed Eastern ways, take everything at your pleasure, then leave like none of it happened? You’ll do as we say, and that’s that.”

Tears threatened, and Lily fought to gulp them down. “Please, there must be something else I can do.”

Fredericks gave her a hard look. “Listen up, Miss St. Claire, we’re—”

“I’ll settle her debts.”

The three men looked past Lily to the back of the trade room. Lily whirled, her hopes soaring, searching the crowd for the man who’d made the offer.

North Walker stepped forward, sparing not even a glance at Lily.

“I’ll trade you,” he said to Fredericks. “For her.”

Snickers rumbled from the men.

“Hmm…” Fredericks rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He glanced at Sykes, then at Becker.

“I guess we can hear him out,” Fredericks said with a casual shrug.

“All right by me,” Becker agreed.

North looked at Lily. “Go outside.”

She couldn’t move. She could barely think.

“Go outside,” he told her again, more harshly this time.

Lily’s temper flared. She’d had enough of men today—every single one of them. And she wanted to tell them all exactly what she thought of them, but decided it more prudent to keep her mouth shut for the moment.

She pushed her chin up, whirled and strode out of the room with all the dignity Madame DuBois had taught her, despite feeling the hot gaze of every man in the room on her back.

Outside, she eyed the gate and, for a moment, contemplated making a break for it. Right now with her anger up and her heart pounding, Lily thought she might actually hike all the way to Aunt Maribel’s home in Richmond—by sundown.

That foolish notion left a moment later when Jacob Tanner squeezed through the crowd in the trade room and walked over to her.

Embarrassment heated her cheeks. Jacob was a nice young man, and he’d been present for her humiliation. He looked as uncomfortable as she when he stopped next to her.

“They had no right, saying those things and talking to you the way they did,” Jacob said softly, nodding toward the trade room. “It ain’t right, but… Well, that’s the way it is around here.”

Lily nodded, comforted and mollified somewhat by his compassionate words.

“Why do people stay here, Jacob?” she asked. “Why do you stay?”

He gazed thoughtfully across the plaza. “Came out here a couple of years ago with my ma and pa, my sister. We all got sick. They died.”

“Oh, Jacob, that’s so sad,” Lily said, feeling a new kinship with him. “But why do you stay? Why don’t you go back home?”

“Got no home to go back to,” Jacob said with a shrug. “My pa sold our farm in Tennessee when he decided we needed to come out here.”

“Don’t you have any family back there?”

“Yes, some. But I haven’t heard nothing from them in so many years now—” Jacob stopped abruptly as North walked out of the trade room. “You take care now, Miss Lily,” he said, and hurried away.

“They can’t do this,” Lily insisted to North, her anger flaring again. “They can’t force me to stay under those—conditions. Where is the sheriff of this territory?”

“They’re the law around here,” North told her and jerked his chin toward the trade room. “They can do whatever they want.”

Her boiling anger cooled slightly because she knew he was right. Jacob had told her the same thing.

“Why are you helping me?” she asked North. “You heard what the other men said about me. I’m of no value to anyone here.”

He eased a little closer. “I think you’re perfect,” he said softly.

Her anger dissolved and an odd tingling took its place, deep inside Lily.

Then his gaze dropped to the hem of her dress and rose slowly, deliberately over her waist, lingered on her bosom, and finally rested on her face.

“For what I have in mind for you, Miss St. Claire,” he said, “you’re perfect.”

Chapter Five

She’d brought the fort to a complete standstill, it seemed.

An unnatural silence hung over the place as Lily crept through the alley and once more took her hiding place among the stacks of crates.

North had insisted she go to her quarters and remain there, but Lily had watched out the window and seen the men who had gathered in the trade room to witness her humiliation head toward the stable.