Poor Sarah flushed crimson. “Danby, can you please escort these men to the general? He’ll get them into some civilized clothing, and perhaps they’ll learn to mind their manners and quit taunting a naïve little spirit like me!”
Hawk laughed. “Don’t let her fool you, Skylar. She’s a tigress.”
“Danby!” Sarah cried. “Will you please!”
“Major, Lord Douglas, please follow me.”
Danby seemed happy enough with his task as escort. “Lady Douglas, if you wish to accompany Sarah, I’ll care for your horse.”
Skylar thanked him. She slipped down from Nutmeg, well aware that Sarah was staring at her. Sarah suddenly regained her own manners. “I’m so sorry. Your hair is just so?—”
“Blonde?” Skylar suggested.
“For that outfit!” Sarah gasped.
“I’m afraid I gave my ‘civilized’ clothing away,” Skylar told her, emphasizing the word “civilized.”
Sarah didn’t notice. She shuddered. “You’ve just come from the East? And been cast among the heathens!”
“My husband is half heathen.”
Sarah crossed herself. “Hush now! We’ve worked hard to bring him into the proper fold.”
“Oh!” Skylar said. She hurried along with Sarah, who could walk very briskly. She felt the eyes of soldiers, civilians, and the scattered women here and there upon her. She straightened her shoulders, wondering with more than a trace of amusement how many of them thought that she had been a prisoner of the Sioux, recently released by Hawk, Sloan, and Willow.
Then she felt guilty, well aware that many people here had had friends and family slaughtered by the Indians. She had found it very easy to take the Sioux side in this battle, perhaps because she had seen the Sioux side of it for the first time.
War was tragic for both sides, she reminded herself.
In a matter of moments, Sarah had her to the sutler, and in a matter-of-fact way, had quickly managed to go through every single one of the man’s garments, bargained outrageously for everything Skylar could possibly need, and managed to get it all folded and in a basket.
“The general will make arrangements for your tent tonight,” Sarah assured Skylar. “For now, you must come with me. David—my husband—is out among the men. You can wash and divest yourself of that dreadful garment?—”
“This dreadful garment is a cherished gift,” Skylar said firmly.
“Oh.” Sarah didn’t exactly say the word. Her mouth rounded into it. She stared at Skylar. Then she started walking again.“Well. Well. One day, we’ll reach the Indians. David says so. Then they won’t be heathens any longer, and they’ll learn that they can’t do murder and that they must settle down to white ways. You can just…change your clothing. Fold up your, er, gift, and pack it for home.”
Sarah hurried on. Skylar followed her, considering the woman a rather pompous but well-meaning creature.
Two hours later, she had washed. Her flesh carried the scent of Sarah’s lavender soap, and she wore a dress of calico cotton, silk stockings, and leather shoes. David, young like his wife—just as pompous, Skylar thought, but just as well meaning—had come back to the large tent he had set up at the campsite. Hawk, Sloan, Willow, the general, and many of his aides had come to the minister’s, and Skylar sipped sherry while she listened to the men worry about the question before them. She realized that the soldiers among them seemed to realize that the treaties thus far made with the Sioux had been nothing more than promises made to be broken, and that half of them were sick about what duty required them to do.
A serious, middle-aged captain named Clark was especially interested in querying Hawk, Sloan, and Willow.
“Is it definite, then, that none of the Crazy Horse people will come?”
“It is definite that Crazy Horse will not attend,” Sloan told him politely.
The captain seemed deeply depressed. “I see trouble ahead. Great trouble.”
“The whites just don’t want to see how far they’re pushing the Sioux,” Hawk said.
“The whites! The whites!” Captain Clark exclaimed unhappily. “We group them all together as savages. I suppose it is only fair that they group us together in return. I find our policies appalling! But if we wind up in battle, no brave will stopto ask me if I approve of American policy before he takes my scalp.”
“He wouldn’t understand that you weren’t part of it,” Skylar said quietly. “The only reason he will go into battle against you is because he chooses to do so. He assumes you have made a similar choice.”
She had spoken so softly. She realized that despite that, everyone in the tent was staring at her. Her husband in particular. He smiled at her and set down the glass of sherry he had been drinking. He turned to the general and the minister and his wife.
“We’ve had a long ride. If I understand correctly, you’ve accommodations for me and my wife?”
