Hawk nudged her down the steps and toward her horse. He set her up on the roan. She smiled at Sloan. “I hope I’m not inconveniencing you too greatly.”
He shook his head. “I enjoy being in and near the Black Hills. And every brief moment of peace and freedom that is left us!”
She wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but he had moved his horse forward, closer to the house. “Goodbye, Meggie. Thanks for the coffee!” he called.
Poor Meggie still looked so distraught.
“Hawk—Lord Douglas?—”
“Yes, Meggie, I’m absolutely certain that I should be taking my wife!” Hawk told her. “We’ll be back in no time.” He waved, whistled to Wolf, then trotted his horse along the path, circling around the cattle to get them moving ahead as well. Willow joined him in the effort, and their small party was quicklymoving out of the yard. Skylar rode behind with Sloan, turning to wave goodbye to Meggie as they departed.
They had ridden some time in silence when Skylar drew her horse closer to Sloan’s to talk. “Sloan, what did you mean by what you said earlier?”
“About what?”
“Peace and freedom.”
He shrugged, then glanced her way. “Not long ago there was nothing here.”
She smiled. “I know something about history. Not long ago, the Sioux weren’t here. They were farther east.”
“Ah, but they were forced out quickly by the whites, and even more quickly, they became some of the best bow and pony Indians ever.”
“You’re part of the cavalry,” she reminded him.
Once again, he glanced wryly her way. “Hawk and I have often led parallel lives. But my circumstances were different from his. My grandfather’s name was Granger Tremayne. He was a full general, a hero of the Mexican War. When the army moved west, his family moved west. My mother was with a small army escort moving from fort to fort when an Oglala war party happened upon them. She was sixteen years old when she was taken. My father was the brave who took her. He was young himself at the time, and when I was a boy, I remember that they had a very close relationship. My mother remained a feisty and opinionated soul, but my father had his image and his pride to maintain, so sparks frequently flew. Like Hawk, I was Sioux as I grew up.”
“Sioux then, cavalry later.”
“My grandfather was a full general, remember?” he said, smiling. He shrugged. “My father was killed in a skirmish with the Crow. He had asked Tall Man, an important warrior of our society, to see that my mother and I were returned to her peoplein the event that something happened to him. Tall Man returned us to the whites at the fort. I was ten. I was sent to school. I grew up with other army children. I traveled back east. I was sent to West Point. That’s what happens to the grandson of a general, regardless of if he is a product of an Indian attack.”
“It still seems that you are more Sioux,” she said.
He smiled. “Because I look Indian.”
“Because of the things you say.”
“Maybe I am more Sioux.”
“Why do you stay with the cavalry?”
“Ah, well, that way I know what is going on. And I can do my very best to relay it to my Indian brothers. Agency Sioux have gone out to try to talk Crazy Horse into coming to one of the agencies to discuss the sale of the Black Hills. I’m the cavalry’s messenger, bringing the same request.”
“Can you convince Crazy Horse?”
He shook his head. “I know Crazy Horse. He will not come. But he won’t resent me for asking.”
“What happens if you’re with troops that are attacked?”
“When I’m attacked, I fight.”
“Even if you’re with the Sioux when the cavalry attacks?”
“Lady Douglas, you ask very personal questions.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean?—”
“Now, what about you? What are you doing out here?”
