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Chapter 19
The passion of the fire, love,
What’er it finds, destroys.
—R. W. RAYMOND
Several days had passed and except for the constant fear of Clint McCloud jumping out at her, continuing his reign of terror, Lauralee felt that everything was finally right in her little world.
Her aunt had recovered as best that could be expected when someone had a heart condition.
She was able to leave her bed now and resume most of her normal activities.
Best of all was that her aunt was able to putter around in her flower garden and have tea with her lady friends at her favorite tea room and inn—Tomaso’s. She had even accepted that Lauralee was going to be leaving soon.
Lauralee’s Uncle Abner was embroiled in a new case, proving once again to the communities of Charleston and Mattoon that he was the best judge in Coles County. He had not said much about Lauralee’s decision to leave. But she had seen it in his eyes each time he looked at Dancing Cloud that his resentments for him still lay heavy on his heart.
Putting aside further thoughts of her uncle’s resentments, Lauralee was happy that Dancing Cloud was almost as good as new. She had encouraged him not to ride his horse again just yet. Today he rode beside her in her horse and buggy. He was at the reins. She was enjoying the outing with him as they took in the city of Mattoon.
“Isn’t it just a wondrous, glorious day?” Lauralee said. She repositioned her straw hat on her head, then retied the satin bow beneath her chin. “The sky is so brilliantly blue. The sun is so bright.”
Dancing Cloud shifted his gaze to her. “The true vision sits beside me,” he said, smiling.
His eyes raked slowly over her. The fully gathered silk dress that she wore complemented her thin waist and the gentle curve of her breasts where they swelled slightly above the low-swept bodice.
“I do want to look special for you, always,” Lauralee said, giving him a winsome smile. “Tell me about the dresses that I shall wear when I become as one with the women of your village. Are they beautifully beaded as are your moccasins? Are they soft? Your buckskin clothes feel like the petal of a rose to my fingertips. Will I also be wearing buckskin?”
“My clothes are like the petal of a rose?” Dancing Cloud asked, chuckling.
“Well, perhaps that is not the best of comparisons,” Lauralee said, laughing softly. “I am just anxious to know what to expect when I reach your village. What I will wear. What my duties as a wife will be.” She blushed and lowered her eyes, then looked slowly up at him again. “I mean besides that which I will enjoy with you each night.”
“Each morning I will take you into my arms and give you a special loving,” Dancing Cloud said, his eyes dancing into hers. “The same as I will give you each night.”
Lauralee’s eyes brightened and she giggled. “And so that is all that we shall do, both you and I, the long day and night through?” she teased.
“That could be arranged, o-ge-ye,” he said, his eyes slowly raking over her again. “When I look at you today, I see no dress. I feel your body with my eyes as though my fingers are there, caressing you.”
“Dancing Cloud, hush.” Lauralee squirmed uneasily on the seat of the buggy. “We are sightseeing today. We are supposed to be seeing the city of Mattoon. If you continue to talk like that, exciting me so, I shall want to bypass the city and go to a country road where you and I can . . .
“Lord,” Lauralee said, after pausing for a moment. “Where is my mind taking me this morning?” She gave him a laughing smile. “You are the cause. You and your ways of making me come alive inside. Please, Dancing Cloud. Please let’s not stray from the subject at hand. I need to know everything about your people and what I will be doing each day to allow me to become a part of their daily activities.”
“The clothes that you will wear?” Dancing Cloud said, shifting his gaze back to the street. He frowned when he found himself now amid the city where the buildings soared overhead on each side.
He looked uneasily from side to side, at the men walking along the thoroughfare on walks made of wood, or corncobs. When they saw him at the reins of the buggy, most stopped and gawked.
He tried to ignore their rudeness.
“If you wish, you can wear the types of dresses that you normally wear each day,” Dancing Cloud said. “Or you can wear what is normally the Cherokee women’s attire.”
He stiffened when a man on horseback rode past and looked him square in the eye as he called him a savage Rebel.
Dancing Cloud’s jaw tightened with anger and humiliation. “Sometimes the women’s clothes are made of the softest of doeskins,” he continued, trying not to make Lauralee uncomfortable by showing his humiliation over the man’s comments. “Or they might choose to wear cotton skirts and blouses. It will be of your own personal choice, o-ge-ye. You can wear what will make you the most comfortable.”
Lauralee half heard what he was saying. She had heard the man’s comments. It took all of her willpower not to have Dancing Cloud stop the carriage so that she could run after that man and tell him a thing or two about her Cherokee fiancé.
But she knew that those who might see Dancing Cloud as the enemy surely also saw her as the enemy, for she was also from the South, a Rebel in her own right.
She had surely only received a more pleasant treatment because of her uncle’s reputation in the city. Everyone knew that he would not stand for his niece suffering any verbal abuse.
