Sky Dance

SKY DANCE, Book 2

Sky Series

By

Keta Diablo

About Sky Dance

In the continuing, thrilling saga of Dawson and Rory Finch, Dawson is sent by the army to chase hostiles across Dakota Territory. Rory nurtures their daughter through her first year of life while fighting the demons that plague her thoughts night and day . . . warning her of impending doom.

When a letter arrives from the army, telling Rory that Dawson is missing in action and presumed dead, her world tumbles into a tailspin. Fending off pleas from her sister and brother-in-law to move on with her life, and think about accepting a proposal of marriage from a determined suitor, Rory holds fast to what she knows in her heart.

Dawson is still alive.

* * * * *

Chapter One

Minnesota

1863

Rory dreamed of snow-swathed landscapes and sparkling snowflakes. And sometimes black-shrouded faces and crimson-stained lips.

A voice breached her restless slumber, a familiar tone that soothed and comforted her. "Lass, I'm sorry to wake you but it's time to feed the baby."

Every ligament and muscle in her body ached, especially when she groaned. "Go away, Isabelle."

"I wish I could but Haven has been fussing for an hour."

"I don't need to open my eyes to know something horrible happened. Either I fell from a tree and hit every branch going down or someone tried to kill me."

Gentle knuckles brushed her cheek. "Unfortunately, the latter."

Opening her eyes, Rory stared at the ceiling while gathering her thoughts. "I remember bits and pieces now. The kidnapping, Hiram, having the baby . . . oh, Lord, my beautiful daughter. Bring her to me."

Seated beside the bed, Dawson took her hand. "I'm here too love, been watching over Haven while you slept." He wiggled from the chair and placed their daughter near her breast. "Are you able to feed her?"

"Of course, if you help me sit up." Heavy-lidded, she glanced at Isabelle. "Other than starving, is she doing well?"

"Pinker than cherry blossoms and quite vocal when she's hungry."

Dawson grinned. "Takes after her mother in that regard."

Her sister smiled. "After almost losing said mother, I can't think of a thing to complain about."

"Ah," Rory said, putting the baby to her breast. "In that case, I'd love a thick slice of chocolate cake, a cup of coffee with oodles of cream, and―"

"Don't push my good nature." Isabelle leaned down and kissed her forehead. "I think you two need time alone. I'm off to the kitchen to check on Jab." She crossed the room and with a soft tug, closed the door behind her.

Somber eyes of blue stared at her.

"What, Dawson?"

"Nothing, curious little kitten. I'm devouring the scene—our daughter at your breast. Yesterday, I didn't think I'd ever see that."

"I have so many questions."

"Understandable. Ask away."

Rory shivered. "All right, but after today, I don't want to discuss Hiram or the nightmare I lived through."

He resumed his seat. "Don't blame you."

"I didn't know who attacked me in the woods, not even after I awoke in Hiram's cellar." A flash of the man puncturing her skin with the knife surfaced. "I ran into him at the cemetery several times, never thought of his mouth as cruel, never saw the wild look in his eyes before." Rory shook her head. "Dimwitted me."

"Why would you think Hiram capable of kidnapping? Why would anyone?"

"Oh, there were signs if one took time to dissect them. Isabelle and I discussed his bizarre behavior on more than one occasion. We knew he hated Isabelle, but―"

Dawson spat the words. "He's lower than a beetle, lower than a snake's belly."

"You meant to say was. Hiram is dead, isn't he?"

"Yes, thank God. Jab told me what happened, said Hiram lost his mind, thought you were his late wife, Jane, and demanded the two of you marry."

Latent fear trickled down Rory's spine. "He ranted and raved about us marrying."

Dawson leaned forward in the chair and took her hand. "I'm sorry. I'd give anything to turn back the clock."

Narrowing her eyes, she searched his face. "If you'd known his intentions, would you have enlisted?"

"How can you ask that?"

The tension left her jaw. "Forgive me, I'm not myself yet." She changed the subject. "Jab . . . how are his wounds?"

"Louisa's filling him with brandy before your sister drags out her bone needle." Dawson smiled. "I heard her say, 'Donovan Pearson, you gave me the fright of my life.'"

Despite the soreness shooting through every bone in her body, Rory chuckled. "What did he say to that?"

"He scolded her for using his Christian name but then hung his head and said, 'The next time you tell me a man's a dunderheid I'll be heeding your words.'"

"Poor Jab, blood oozing from his wounds and semiconscious, he did his best to stop Hiram from cutting me with that knife." A gasp came from her throat. "I recall now. You mentioned Broken Tongue before I succumbed to exhaustion. Did he rush into the room, stop the madman?"

"I wondered if you'd remember our brief discussion." He reached for the baby. "Haven's fallen asleep. Let me take her to your sister and you can personally thank your savior."

"Broken Tongue is here?"

"Wouldn't leave until he knew you were out of the woods."

"I must thank him; tell him if he'd waited another five seconds, I'd be pushing up daisies."

He stilled and with misty eyes, looked down at her before slipping from the room. A short time later, Dawson, a young boy and a bronze-skinned man entered. Rory scanned the tall warrior head to toe before looking into his eyes. "Broken Tongue, it was you."

The man nodded.

"My uncle says he is happy you are well."

"Hello Two-Feet-Running." Knowing his uncle couldn't speak, she offered Broken Tongue a wide smile and directed her words to the boy. "How-how did he know Hiram had taken me?"

"While hunting in the woods, my uncle saw the white man attack you. He followed him here." Two-Feet-Running looked at the floor, his voice soft. "He watched through the stockade every day, hoping to see you come out. When you didn't, he told his wife, Yellow Leaf."

"Then what happened?"

"Yellow Leaf said the white man would not believe him, would shoot him on sight."

She looked at Broken Tongue. "But you told them anyway?"

He nodded.

With tears in her eyes, she looked up at him. "How can I ever repay you for saving my life?"

The warrior shook his head and signed to the boy. "My uncle says you have paid him ten times over for sheltering us and for bringing his son into the world."

"Oh, no, anyone would have done as much."

"My uncle does not think so."

"Tell me, what is his son's name?"

"He-Cries-At-Night."

The room dissolved into laughter.

The boy looked up. "His son does not dream much, but this name will not stay with him forever. He will be given a new name soon. It is the way of the People."

Still chuckling, Rory asked, "How did you get your name Two-Feet-Running?"

"My mother says I never learned to walk. I crawled and the next day ran."

Broken Tongue tousled his nephew's hair and nodded.

"I'm leaving this place today." Rory glanced around the room. "I'll be staying with Isabelle—the one with hair like a raven."

"My uncle knows where the healer lives."

"Good, please come for a visit any time." She looked into Broken Tongue's charcoal eyes. "I'd love to see your son again."

He signed to the boy.

"He wants you to know he is the one who left the gifts at your dwelling."

She exchanged glances with Dawson. "The rabbit, the kitten and the necklace?"

"And a moose. He wanted to pay his debt to you. He did not want you to go hungry in The Winter of the Deep Snow."

She clasped her hand to her mouth. "I'm humbled and honored."

"I'm sure happy to know the answer to that dilemma." Dawson clapped the warrior on the back. "You're welcome any time at the house."

After another hand signal, Two-Feet-Running spoke again. "We leave now. Safe journey."

"Safe journey," Dawson said.

"Goodbye, friend," Rory whispered as they left the room.

Dawson scrubbed a hand across his chin. "It never occurred to me Broken Tongue left the gifts because he felt indebted to you."

"If anyone's indebted, it's me."

Isabelle emerged from the other room. "Jab's almost as good as new. Louisa is going to have Doc Mellon check in on him, and she plans to keep him in bed for a few days."

"I'm almost as good as new too." Rory affected a pout. "Can we go home now?"

"Lass, I don't think you should travel yet after what you've been through."

"I won't stay in Hiram's house one more day, one more hour!"

Isabelle looked at Dawson for assistance but he turned away. "Tell you what, if you can name our children after that blow to your head, I'll think about it." She put a finger up. "In birth order."

Rory rolled her eyes. "Clark, Anne, Aaron, Rachel, Sarah Sophia and Eliza."

Isabelle smiled through a haze of tears. "You missed one."

"No, two—we lost James at the battle of Lone Tree Lake, and Jon Henry before we arrived in Minnesota." Low-voiced she added, "I know how it pains you to speak of—"

"No, not anymore. When we almost lost you, I made a vow to bury my anger, celebrate their lives if . . . "

"If what?"

"You came home to us."

"Oh, Isabelle, please don't make me cry. I'm 'bout cried out these days."

"All right, lass. We'll load up the wagon with blankets and go home. That should make you smile."

Rory flashed a wide grin. "How soon can we leave?"