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“If it wasn’t for President Grant’s stubborn insistence on a humane policy toward Indians, we’d have gotten the advantage of the savages way before now,” Colonel Downing said as he rode beside Mary Beth. “As it is, many innocent soldiers died alongside Custer.”
He realized what he had just said and looked quickly toward Mary Beth. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That was careless of me. I did not mean to remind you all over again of your husband’s death. Again I spoke before I thought.”
“I understand,” Mary Beth said, controlling her temper, for it was not the reminder of Lloyd’s death that bothered her as much as the Colonel’s hatred of Indians.
“I’m glad you understand,” he said. Then he smiled as they continued onward. “Ah, that Custer. Did you know they called him the Boy General? He was hoping to gain the Democratic nomination for President. A stunning victory over hostile Indians could have made him a national hero overnight. Yep, he’d have been our next President.” He frowned. “As it is, more than likely Grant will be elected again.”
Mary Beth didn’t hear what he had just said. She could hardly believe her eyes. She had recalled a field of flowers, but what she now saw spread out before her wasn’t the same. This was twice the size. It was a wildflower delight.
Everywhere she looked she saw a different sort of flower. There were carpets of purple, white, yellow, pink, and blue.
She drew rein and quickly dismounted.
She stood in the midst of the flowers, still in awe of the loveliness that surrounded her. For the moment she was able to forget the ugliness of life that she now knew so well.
“They are so beautiful!” she said, sighing. She turned and smiled at Colonel Downing. “Thank you for allowing me to come here. I am not only enjoying the opportunity to collect flowers for our marriage, but also just being here where it is so lovely.”
“You are a delight,” Colonel Downing said, dismounting. He took the large gunny sack to Mary Beth and held it open for her. “Pick to your heart’s content. I shall hold the bag for you.”
Mary Beth smiled, then began plucking away. While she was picking the flowers, she caught a movement in the trees where a thick stand of cottonwood stood only a few feet away from her.
Her heart skipped a beat when she saw another movement, but she dismissed it, thinking it must be a deer out on its morning search for food.
Then the movement stopped. If it was a deer, perhaps it had stopped to eat some autumn berries.
She resumed picking flowers, then saw a scattering of small purple asters that grew on into the forest.
She stretched her neck and saw that they went far along the ground beneath the trees. She had always adored asters. They grew along the riverbank behind her cabin in Kentucky.
She turned quickly toward Colonel Downing. “I have collected enough of the larger flowers,” she said, carefully placing the last of them in the bag. “I have spied a favorite flower of mine which I would love to use for my hand bouquet at the wedding.”
“Asters are your favorite, eh?” Colonel Downing said, a haunted look in his eyes. “They were my wife’s favorite as well. She, too, carried a bouquet of asters on our wedding day. She chose white over purple.”
For a moment Mary Beth almost saw the human side of this man as he spoke about a time in his life that had been so precious to him. She felt empathy for him, then quickly reminded herself the sort of man he was.
He was an Indian hater. He was planning to kill Brave Wolf.
“I’m sorry I reminded you of your wife and . . . and . . . your wedding day,” she murmured. “Would you rather I not gather asters for our nuptials? If not, I will understand.”
“No, I would like you to carry them,” he said, resting the bag on the ground. “I shall wait here while you pick them. But do not go so far that I cannot see you. I do not have to remind you of the dangers.”
“Yes, I understand,” she murmured. “I shall be quick about it.”
She sighed when she moved among the starry little flowers growing in the forest. They reminded her of her home and David, who always picked a bouquet for her when they were sitting on the riverbank, fishing for an evening meal.
She fell to her knees and carefully picked one after another. Then a movement a few feet away from her made her heart skip a beat. If it was a deer, surely it would have bolted by now.
But instead, whatever it was had moved closer.
Hoping it was not a renegade, Mary Beth started to cry out for the colonel, then stopped and gasped. Relief flooded her senses when she saw who it was.
Brave Wolf!
He was standing in the shadows where only she, not the colonel, could see him.
Excited, yet troubled at the same time as to how she could go to Brave Wolf without alerting the colonel, Mary Beth rose slowly to her feet. Her knees were trembling as she gave Brave Wolf a quivering smile.
Then she thought of a plan. She turned to Colonel Downing, who was still watching her, and who, fortunately, had not seen Brave Wolf yet.
