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He swept Lauralee into his muscled arms and she suddenly felt that she belonged there. If she closed her eyes and pretended, she could very well think that she was in the arms of her father when he had been well and as muscled. She now wondered how she could ever leave this place, where there was so much love, where there was so much security.
Dancing Cloud, she thought desperately. Oh, Dancing Cloud, what am I to do?
She knew that she could not be two people living in two places.
She went with her aunt and uncle to the downstairs parlor. As Lauralee’s aunt served a delectable orange poppy seed bread that was stuffed with sweet fillings, she tried to enjoy it, yet could not deny the emptiness within her that Dancing Cloud’s absence made.
* * *
Feeling downhearted, with an emptiness within him that Lauralee’s absence made, Dancing Cloud forged ahead through a thick stand of trees. He made his way along a narrow trail left there by others who had veered away from the main, more-traveled roads.
Wanting to take advantage of the last light of the fading sun, he sank his moccasined heels into the flanks of his horse.
His horse bolted with alarm when a man on horseback was suddenly there, blocking the way. Dancing Cloud patted his steed to steady him, his eyes narrowing on the pistol aimed at him.
Then his eyes shifted upward. A hate he had felt all those years ago, when Boyd had been shot by the red-haired, blue-eyed Yankee, came to him in a heated rush. It was as though he was reliving that day, when the Yankees had ambushed what had been left of Colonel Boyd Johnston’s regiment.
The same man, with the same leering, cynical smile, and the same red hair and blue eyes, was there now. It was obvious that the Yankee wanted to finish what he had started all those years ago.
Dancing Cloud made a quick movement for his rifle in the gun boot at the side of his horse....
Chapter 10
Parting is all we know of Heaven,
And all we need of hell.
—EMILY DICKINSON
Even though the Yankee’s pistol was aimed at him, Dancing Cloud could not allow himself to be shot without a fight.
But his hand had no chance to get even near his rifle. The bullet, as it entered his right shoulder, was so forceful, it threw him from his horse.
Dazed from the fall, Dancing Cloud lay there for a moment.
Then when he came to enough to realize that he was losing much blood from his wound, he covered it with his hand and tried to get up.
But his shoulder seemed to weigh ten times what was normal. And he felt himself drifting away again, a dizziness sweeping through his consciousness that threatened to make him pass out.
Suddenly a foot kicked him over onto his back. Through hazy eyes Dancing Cloud looked up at the face that he had seen in many of his midnight nightmares.
Clint McCloud.
Dancing Cloud had never thought that he would see him again.
But when he had come north and had entered territory occupied by those who had fought on the Union’s side, Dancing Cloud should have known there was always the chance of coming face to face with this heartless villain.
“Die, you son of a bitch Cherokee,” Clint McCloud hissed out between his narrow, clenched lips. “Fate brought us face to face again so that I could finish what I started at the end of the war.” He laughed throatily. “Just look at you groveling in the dirt. You were a mere kid when I last saw you. Now you’re a man. Die like a man. Get it over with so I can be on my way. I don’t dare shoot you again. Someone might hear.”
Dancing Cloud fought against the waves of unconsciousness that were washing through his brain. He only half heard what Clint was saying.
But it was enough to know there was no way that this Yankee would allow a Confederate Cherokee to get out of this skirmish alive.
Again Dancing Cloud struggled to get to his feet.
Each time he managed to get partially to his knees, Clint kicked him back down into the pool of blood that was spreading on the ground beneath him.
The sound of an approaching wagon on the narrow trail made Clint jump with a start. He turned his back to Dancing Cloud and lifted his pistol in the direction of the sound and waited for the wagon to make the slight turn in the road.
