Cherish the Dream Read online

  Together he and Conyers read the signs left by the carefree pair on the previous day. Each spear of bent grass, each heel mark caught their attention. They moved so rapidly, Peter was amazed.

  “How can you see the signs from such great distances?” he asked Zeke, as he watched Blade ride at a sharp trot well in front of them. “The captain doesn’t even slow down long enough to look at anything close.”

  “Jest look ahead, thar in the grass,” Conyers answered. “The blades that’ve been turned over show a different shade of green from the grass around it.”

  But as hard as Peter looked, he couldn’t see a variance in the tall buffalo grass that stretched out for miles ahead of them in the gray dawn.

  They rode over hilly ground, through gullies and around buffalo wallows. Then, at sunrise, Blade spotted a patch of white cloth waving in the morning breeze. Relief flooded him. It was the Gordons, alive and well—if no one else had found them first. “There they are!” he called over his shoulder, and urged War Shield into a gallop.

  Hearing the hoofbeats coming toward them, Tom jumped up, rifle in hand. When he recognized the big stallion, he ran up the shallow bank of their ravine and waved. He beamed with joy at their deliverance.

  Blade dismounted, his heartbeat rapid beneath his ribs. Seeing Tom without his sister, a feeling of dread engulfed him. His words were sharp and loud. “Where’s Theodora?”

  “She’s over there, Captain,” Tom said, and pointed toward the improvised tent with a sheepish look. “Sound asleep.” He shrugged in embarrassment. “We were awake all night.”

  Pulling off his leather gloves and tucking them in his belt, Blade strode down the incline. The petticoat awning provided shade from the morning sun. Its lacy ruffle fluttered in the breeze like a pennant atop a castle turret. Under it lay a sleeping beauty, her blond tresses spreading in waves across one arm, her boots and stockings on the ground beside her, her bare, blistered feet peeking from under the hem of her dress. At the sight of her so peaceful and safe, his apprehension dissolved. With infinite tenderness he swooped her up in his arms.

  As she was lifted from under her shelter, the sunlight struck her face. Startled, Theodora stiffened and looked into Blade’s eyes, then relaxed. The overwhelming security of being held in his strong arms flowed through her, and she laid her head trustingly against his shoulder. She felt him pull her even tighter against the solid wall of his chest. “What took you so long?” she questioned with relief, slipping her hands around his neck.

  Blade carried her over to War Shield and set her on her feet. “I came as fast as I could,” he informed her. He mounted and lifted her up in front of him. “Don’t forget her plants and boots,” he called to Tom, and turned his stallion homeward. “Zeke,” he added over his shoulder, “stay and help these two get everything. We wouldn’t want anyone to get lost again.”

  “That’s for dem sure, Cap’n. We’ll be comin’ along a little ways behind you. You jest git that li’l gal safely back to camp.” Conyers gave a careless wave, urging the officer onward.

  With his arms firmly around Theodora, Blade pushed War Shield into a gallop.

  Theodora sat up straight and rigid, prepared for a well deserved reprimand. She ached from the sleepless night on the hard ground and hoped he’d get it over with before she felt any worse. Unwilling to begin a conversation that would end in her own chastisement, she continued to wait for him to make the first move. But he was apparently in no hurry.

  At last he slowed his horse and pulled her back against him. “Get some sleep, Miss Gordon,” he instructed without rancor. “We’ve got a ways to go before we reach camp. And you’ll need your strength for the long day’s ride ahead.”

  She pushed against his shoulders, trying to sit up. “I couldn’t possibly sleep now, Captain Roberts. Not when we’re alone together. It isn’t decent.”

  He slammed her back against him. His arms encompassed her so tightly she felt the vibrations in his chest when he spoke. “It wasn’t very decent of you to wander off like that yesterday, either. Everyone was worried sick. It’ll be even more indecent if you fall off your horse this afternoon because you can’t stay awake. We don’t need to lose any more time than we already have.”

  Although sleep was the last thing on her mind, Theodora recognized the common sense of his suggestion. Instead of struggling against his firm hold, she leaned back and allowed him to support her weight. The silence of the morning was broken only by the warble of birds and the steady, monotonous beat of War Shield’s hooves. Little by little, her eyelids dropped and her head nodded, as weariness overcame her scruples.

  Blade gazed down at his precious burden. Theodora’s thick, silky lashes rested on her smooth cheeks, turned to a light brown now from the long days in the sun. Her eyebrows arched above them in a faint suggestion of surprise. Her soft lips, opened slightly in sleep, revealed the edges of even white teeth.

  If you only knew, princess, the scare you put me through, he scolded her silently, you’d understand why I can’t decide whether to kiss that delectable mouth of yours or paddle your naughty behind.

  Theodora blinked in confusion. She stirred and wondered crossly why she was being held so tightly. Then the memory of that interminable night on the prairie brought her to full consciousness, and she glanced down to see a pair of muscular arms enveloping her. Realizing just whose arms they were, she attempted to straighten, but Blade held her to him effortlessly. With her head cradled on his shoulder, she peeked upward and recognized immediately the determined thrust of his square chin, covered now with a night’s stubble of heavy beard.

  Blade had pulled to a halt under a shady stand of trees; it was the sudden cessation of movement that had, no doubt, awakened her. He dismounted and, spanning her waist with his hands, lifted her down. As she met his gaze, she marveled again at the flecks of silver in his black eyes. She tore her gaze from his and looked around. A fresh running stream bubbled through a small cluster of cottonwoods.

  “Are you thirsty?” His manner was relaxed, even carefree.

  “Yes,” she replied warily. Baffled by his offhanded question, she couldn’t decide whether he was angry or amused.

  Blade lifted his canteen from the saddle horn and knelt beside the stream. He refilled the canteen with cool water, stood, and offered it to her without a word.

  Theodora took the metal container and gulped the water, quenching her terrible thirst. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry for the trouble Tom and I caused,” she apologized. She knew they’d be in camp soon, and she wanted to get the tongue-lashing over with before they were surrounded by a curious audience. “We were collecting flora and lost all sense of time. We’ll never do such a stupid thing again.”

  “We’ll talk about that later,” he said as he stared at the water drops trickling down her chin. His low, deep voice was a caress. “Right now I’ll just take your apology.” He pulled her into his arms before she’d even guessed his intentions. His eyes glowed with desire. Bending his head, he kissed her softly, his tongue licking the water off her lips with such open hunger that Theodora felt he wanted to devour her. He raised his head and looked at the curls spilling over her shoulder, and the yearning revealed in his eyes made the breath catch in her throat. He lifted her against him, one strong hand entangled in her hair, and gently brushed her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks, her wet chin with his warm lips.

  “You … you mustn’t,” Theodora gasped and tried to jerk away. She still held the water-filled canteen, and its contents splashed against her dress and soaked through the cotton to her heated skin.

  With her denial, the bonds of his restrained tenderness exploded and his mouth swooped down upon hers. He kissed her passionately, his tongue probing until her lips surrendered to his assault. Then he moved back to read the answering passion she knew was in her eyes.

  “I promised myself last night that you’d pay for the worry you put me through,” he murmured. “Not to mention the los
t sleep. Now it’s time for you to show your gratitude. What is the proper reward for being rescued in the wilderness? Surely it’s worth an innocent kiss.”

  Theodora pushed against his chest with the open container, and the water sloshed once again. This time she half expected steam to rise from their smoldering bodies. “Innocent? You don’t know the meaning of the word!”

  His white teeth flashed beneath the thick mustache as it moved toward her. “Ah, but there’s so much I do know, little bluenose. And I’m more than willing to share my knowledge.”

  He kissed her again, a consuming, breathtaking kiss. His hand moved over her breast, cupping its fullness through the wet material. With unhurried expertise his long fingers unbuttoned the front of her dress and slipped inside, rubbing the thin batiste that covered her swelling nipple. He lowered his dark head and kissed the pulse that fluttered at the base of her throat. Theodora leaned back, arching against his sinewy arm. His hand slid to her other breast, and a jolt of passion swept through her at his feather-light touch. It seemed so right to be held, to be kissed, to be touched by him, as though it should go on forever. When his mouth found her lips again, she answered his obvious invitation. Tentatively, she touched his tongue with her own, following it across his lips and into the warmth of his mouth in a dance of discovery. She could feel his delight as he tightened his hold on her and groaned deep in his throat.

  At the faint sound of hoofbeats behind them, Blade lifted his head and calmly redid her buttons, paying no heed to her scarlet cheeks. He pried the canteen from her tight fingers and replaced the lid dangling from its chain. Possessively, lingeringly, his gaze moved over her face, her hair, her breasts. “If you ever wander off like that again,” he said in a voice so low she could barely make out the words, “I’ll tan you within an inch of your life.”

  Chapter 10

  The Gordons were welcomed back with an exuberant joy that embarrassed them both. The troopers and mountain men ran out to meet them, crowding around their horses as they approached. Everyone escorted them into camp, all the while shouting questions and offering thanks to God that they had been safely returned.

  “Hallelujah! “Twiggs exclaimed, waving his battered sombrero in the air as he ran beside War Shield. His brown face was wrinkled in deep creases with an ear-splitting grin. “A sight for sore eyes! That’s for sure. Knew the captain would find you. Knew it for certain.”

  In his excitement Sergeant O’Fallon pounded Basil Guion on the back, causing the diminutive voyageur to lurch and teeter precariously until the burly Irishman grabbed him by the shirttails and hauled him upright again. “Will you be looking at the likes of them now, you little spalpeen! Saints preserve us if they don’t look as though they’ve been taking a Sunday stroll in the park. And us fearing we’d not be seeing hide nor hair of them again!”

  “Be careful, barbare,” Guion cried with mock indignation. “You’ll knock the teeth right out of my head.” But he laughed good-naturedly in quiet jubilation.

  At breakfast, Private Belknap hurried to bring Theodora and Tom the plates Julius had piled high with thick slices of hot buffalo meat. Even Fletcher—who had never waited on anyone before—brought them both cups of steaming coffee. Tom drank his gratefully and asked for more.

  “I thought I’d never see y’ ag’in,” Fletcher told Theodora. “The chances of anyone findin’ y’ alive were almost nil. It would’ve been easier t’ find a needle in a haystack.” The shock on his pale face made her squirm with shame at their carelessness. It was the closest Lieutenant Fletcher had ever come to praising Blade, and his quavering voice betrayed how truly overwhelmed he was with their rescue.

  “It was miraculous, wasn’t it?” Mortified, Theodora set down the tin cup of coffee and turned back to Twiggs and Belknap, continuing the tale of her adventure and forgetting the coffee until Fletcher reminded her to drink it up, for they’d soon be going. But by then it was cold, and she poured the entire contents on the ashes before she’d even tasted it.

  Immediately, Fletcher reached across her shoulder and picked up the cup. “Wait. I’ll get you some more.”

  “No, don’t bother,” she answered, uncomfortable at his obvious solicitude. “I need to pack up my gear and help Tom dismantle our tent.”

  The caravan made such a late start that morning that the sojourners skipped the midday rest period and continued steadily along the valley of the Platte River into the late afternoon. It was a hot, clear day, and the summer sun beat down on them until Theodora shifted uncomfortably in the saddle and recalled with nostalgia the earlier days of cool rain.

  She wiped her moist brow with the back of her gloved hand and wondered if it was only the weather that caused her skin to feel as if it was on fire. Each time she thought about Blade’s touch, her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. Each time he got near her, he became bolder and more insistent. It had to stop. She would make him stop. There would be no more kisses, even if she had to avoid him for the rest of the journey like a Quaker shunning a stage performance.

  Cantering his horse alongside his sister’s, Tom took off his leather hat and ran his yellow scarf over his wet brow and hair. He was tired and thirsty and soaked with sweat. His buckskin shirt clung to his back, and he resisted the impulse to pull it over his head, for he knew the sun would fry his white, freckled skin like trout in a pan of hot grease. The previous night awake on the plains had taken its toll. He’d been plagued with diarrhea since morning, but refused to complain to anyone, knowing the fiasco had been his own fault. He’d acted like a green girl, wandering out across open territory without even a horse, endangering Teddy and causing Roberts and the others a night of discomfort and worry. He shook his head and tried to clear his blurred vision, but the world careened wildly with a sickening lurch. Gad, he’d never be so foolish again.

  Theodora came out of her own disheartened reverie and noticed Tom’s slumped shoulders. She realized he was fighting exhaustion. Although she’d rested that morning, secure in Blade’s arms, her brother had had no sleep for more than twenty-four hours. She urged her mare closer to High Flight and stared at Tom. “Are you all right?”

  Beads of sweat rolled down his face and neck; his hair was plastered to his brow under the brim of his slouch hat. His stomach roiled within him, the nausea coming in waves. He tried to grin, but grimaced in pain instead. “As a matter of fact, no.”

  Theodora’s green eyes revealed her worry. “You look awful, Tom. Let me tell Captain Roberts that we should stop early today so you can rest.”

  As she moved to go, Tom reached out and caught her arm, ignoring the dizziness brought on by the sudden action. He wouldn’t cause the campaign more loss of time. Not after the botch he’d made of things. “No, Sis. Don’t. Anyone who wanders away from camp and gets lost like a pea-brained school kid deserves to be exhausted the next day. I’ll be all right.”

  Theodora gave in against her better judgment. She knew how desperately Tom wanted to save face in front of the others. But during the afternoon she watched in alarm as he grew steadily weaker. He frequently shook his head, trying to clear it, and it became obvious that it was an effort for him merely to stay upright in the saddle.

  Finally she could stand it no longer. “I’m going to talk to Blade,” she told her brother. “You can’t go on like this.”

  “Wait, Teddy,” Tom called weakly, and his voice cracked in his dry throat. He moved to take hold of her reins and swayed precariously. With a supreme effort, he grabbed High Flight’s mane and righted himself.

  Theodora had seen enough. She kicked Athena’s flanks and galloped toward the head of the column.

  “Captain,” she cried. “Captain Roberts!”

  He must have recognized the fear in her call, for he turned his stallion and raced to meet her. Alarm gave his face a stem appearance. “What’s wrong, Miss Gordon?”

  “It’s my brother!” She pointed over her shoulder. “He’s not well.”

  Blade looked back at the center of the
column. As they both watched, Tom slipped off his horse and lay in a still heap on the ground.

  All that afternoon Tom grew worse. The symptoms of acute dysentery progressed, and he began vomiting as well. Unable to keep even water in his stomach, he quickly became so dehydrated that he suffered agonizing cramps in the muscles of his legs and feet. Theodora hovered over him, wiping his face with a wet cloth, dripping water on his parched lips and over his swollen tongue. She talked incessantly to him, for he grew quiet and apathetic, a manner so unlike her high-spirited brother that she felt her heart would tear apart with fear for him.

  Blade entered the Gordons’ tent as soon as the camp was settled. The foul smell of disease filled its close confines. He went over to Tom, who lay motionless on his rumpled, soiled bedroll, and crouched beside him. “Tom,” he called softly, “how do you feel?”

  The young man opened his eyes and blinked repeatedly, as though trying to focus on the figure in front of him. His voice was the hoary whisper of an old man. “Kind’a bad, Captain.”

  “Did you eat or drink anything when you and Theodora were out there alone?”

  Tom shook his head and stared at Blade from bleak eyes. “Nothing,” he said. “We had nothing to eat the whole time.”

  “What about water? Did you drink any during the night?” Again Tom shook his head. He tried to push up on his elbows, but fell back on the blankets in exhaustion. “Wait a minute,” he gasped. “Yes, I did. In the morning while Teddy was still sleeping, I walked over to a nearby buffalo wallow and drank.”

  One word thundered through Blade’s mind: cholera.

  During the campaign of ’34, Blade had seen enough of the disease to recognize its symptoms. He squeezed Tom’s hand and then laid it back on the youth’s chest. “You try to rest, Tom.” He rose, took Theodora by the elbow, and pulled her to the side of the tent. “I want to speak with you outside for a moment,” he whispered, trying hard to keep his shock from showing on his face. “Haintzelman can sit with Tom for a few minutes.”