Untitled

Chapter Two

Rory and her new daughter slept most of the following day in the comfort and safety of Jon and Isabelle's home. Late in the afternoon, footfalls fell across the plank floorboards, rousing her from sleep. She looked at Dawson as he slid a chair next to the bed and eased into it. "The baby―"

He nodded toward the cradle. "Just checked on her. Still sound asleep."

"Ah the innocent slumber of babies. I envy them."

"You're not sleeping well?"

A shudder shot through her. "Bad dreams."

"The nightmares will pass in time." He slid his hand into hers. "We loaded Hiram's body into the back of the wagon today and dropped it off with the sheriff."

"Will he be buried next to his wife and son?"

Dawson gave a brief nod. "I suspect so. The sheriff says his elderly parents live in Pennsylvania but I doubt they'll travel across the country to claim the body."

A frown found her. "I'll be reminded of the kidnapping and the aftermath every time I visit James' grave."

"Reminders sometimes help come to grips with trauma."

Tears brimmed in her eyes. "Leave it to you to see the positive in a bad situation."

"Hiram is dead; he can't hurt you anymore." He peered into her eyes. "One way to confirm that is to see his headstone."

She looked down and smoothed out a wrinkle in the coverlet. "I suppose you're right."

"Want to talk about those dreams?"

Biting her bottom lip, she looked up. "I do, but we agreed not to talk about your departure until the day comes."

"I have news and want to give you time to prepare."

Anchoring her eyes on his, the questions poured from her lips. "What news? Will they send you south where men are dying like flies? How long will the army take you away from us this time?"

"Whoa! Slow down; give me a chance to tell you."

She wrung her hands and fought the nausea surging up her throat.

"In all the commotion, I didn't have a chance to tell you my orders came down before I left Fort Snelling."

"Orders. That means the army is sending your regiment off to fight."

"Yes, but not south. We're off to Dakota Territory, rounding up the hostiles that fled after the uprising."

"I should be relieved you won't be fighting in the major battles in the southern states." She bit back a sob. "But to know you'll be chasing renegades across Dakota is as frightening."

"I must go where the army sends me."

Her voice took on a militant tone. "I hate this war for separating us, taking you away."

He steepled his fingers and struggled to keep his voice from wavering. "Don't make this more difficult, please. If you only knew how much I miss you, miss our life when I'm gone. Now I have an added burden, our daughter."

"I'll never let anything happen to Haven, you know that."

"I do know that, and I know what a strong woman you are. I need that strength from you now."

She looked down aware nothing could change the future they faced. Orders were orders. She could do nothing to change them. For Dawson's sake, she had to put up a courageous front.

"Speaking of our daughter," he said in a lighter tone. "I hear her squirming, making adorable little noises from her cradle."

"Bring her to me." She smiled and willed strength into her voice. "I'm sure she's famished by now."

Angling his lean body from the chair, he walked to the cradle nearby and picked up Haven. He returned to the bed, snuggled her into Rory's arms and then brushed his lips against her forehead. "I promised to help Jon with evening chores but I'll see you at supper."

Still mulling over his news, she fought back tears and nodded.

Dawson slipped from the room and closed the door when he left, leaving Rory alone with her dismal musings. She didn't know how to tell him the bad dreams were about him, unsettling omens she couldn't dispel from her mind day or night. The feeling of impending doom had shrouded her long before Hiram had carried out his plan to kidnap and harm her. To confess her fears to Dawson or Isabelle might make them come true, and she couldn't risk it. She looked down at Haven and her heart ached. She couldn't bear the thought of their daughter never knowing her father.

* * *

The remainder of Rory's week passed in a flurry of activity. Neighbors dropped by, asking Isabelle to cure their illnesses, Sophia came down with the measles, Eliza followed suit, and a cantankerous cow crushed Aaron's ankle. Isabelle and Jon accepted the commotion and catastrophes with their usual aplomb, ever-smiling, ever-gracious.

Bleak and dreary, the morning of Dawson's departure arrived. He stuffed his meager belongings into his saddlebags and joined her by the window. "The wind is bitter today."

Tears filled his eyes when she handed over their daughter. He studied Haven's face for the longest time, as if committing her perfect features to memory.

The same indefinable omens Rory felt when he left the first time washed over her. She shivered and forced them from her mind.

A current snaked through her when he lifted her chin with a finger. "No tears, love. I can't withstand them."

She squelched the sobs in her throat, stuttering through the words. "I won't-won't dare speak in that case."

"Of course, you can speak. Get it off your chest."

She shook her head and closed her eyes.

"This is about more than parting, isn't it?"

Time crawled by in slow motion before she nodded.

"You know you can tell me anything, no matter how dire. Your troubles are mine."

Dear, God, how could she speak the words when she couldn't bear to think them?

"Rory?"

"The dreams, premonitions, whatever you want to call them."

He tried to make light of the situation. "I wonder if our daughter will share the same intuitiveness as you and Isabelle."

"Lord help her if she does. It's a curse, not a blessing."

"Whatever it is, tell me straight up and we will deal with it."

A moment of panic clamped around her heart. Drawing a deep breath, she croaked the words. "My dreams are convoluted, marching forth in rapid montages of images."

"Similar to a puzzle?"

"Exactly." Not sure what to do with her hands, she smoothed out her dress. "I see you, but not you. I see the place, but don't know it. There's a woman and a child."

"Continue."

"The woman is not me and the child is not Haven."

"Darling, your mind is working overtime from worry."

His words comforted her. The haunted expression gripping his face did not.

"What if it's not working overtime? What if you're lost to me forever?"

"To another woman?"

Another nod.

"I swear by all that's holy that would never happen. I could never share my life with another."

"What if you have no control over your life?"

He cupped her face. "Look, this isn't making sense and neither do your dreams. We're borrowing trouble. I can't predict the future or my fate, no one can, but know this: There is not now and never will be anyone but you in my heart and soul through all eternity."

Despite his admonition not to cry, tears streaked her face. "I need more. You can't ride off; snuff out the foreboding in my heart with empty promises."

She clung to his thin words. "I will return. No matter what it takes I will come back to you."

"In this world?"

He pulled her against him, his breath warm against her ear. "In every world that exists in the great continuum." Placing her at arms' length again, his blue eyes burned with the same shuttered expression that tainted her dreams. "I will return to you."

He kissed her with passion, their breaths and lips melding as one. She savored the blissful moment, consumed with a burning hunger she couldn't quench. The words tumbled through her brain. What if this is our last kiss, what if I never feel this all-consuming contentment again? Time stood still as she clung to him. No one existed in her world but Dawson. When he broke from the embrace, the urge to draw him close again overwhelmed her. She had to let him go, despite the pain ripping apart her heart. With his hands on her shoulders, he urged her back, away from him, and that's all she could think about…away from him, away from him.

"Does that prove my endless love for you?"

She chuckled with tears in her eyes. "It proves only that you are the brightest star in the sky, Dawson Finch, with the ability to light up my world like a comet crashing to earth."

"And you still leave me breathless."

His eyes moist, he searched her face for an infinitesimal amount of time, and then turned from her and walked through the door.

* * *

The nimble mare beneath Dawson traveled with nimble grace. The private in charge of the army's herd had chosen a flawless horse for his journey home. He stroked her long neck, his mind wandering to the duties awaiting him at Fort Snelling. He had little desire to engage in a revengeful mission against the hostiles, wanted no part of extinguishing the red man from the earth. His family had lived in harmony with the tribes long before the US Army arrived. He sympathized with the plight of the natives, didn't enlist to make war against them. And now, a red man had saved his wife's life.

Blowing an exasperated breath into the cold night air, he gazed up at the moon. Opaque and still, the magnificence of her beauty mystified him, had always bedazzled him. For billions of years she had guarded the stars, never faltering, ever constant. "So much like my love for Rory," he said aloud. In the end, he knew he would follow the army's orders but that didn't mean he had to like them. The mare sensed her surroundings at the halfway mark. Dawson rested his chin on his chest, closed his eyes and allowed the horse to find her way back to the fort.

Dawson returned the mount to the stables, checked in at the Officer's Quarters and headed for the barracks.

Obie sat at a table shuffling a deck of cards. Clark looked up from his frenzied pacing and gave him a smile of relief. "I knew you would return today one way or the other."

He discarded his winter coat and tossed it across a wooden stool. "Did I have a choice?"

"No, but that did not lessen my worry. Did you find Rory? Is she safe?"

"Yes, and yes. Let me shuck my gear and I will fill you in."

Obie rose to shake Dawson's hand. "I'm relieved you found her."

Dawson tossed the scant items he'd pulled from the saddlebags onto a bunk. "You have a new cousin named Haven Isabelle."

Clark acknowledged him with a broad grin. "A girl and such a fine name."

Dawson held his small audience captive, sparing no details about Hiram's treacherous deeds, his attack on Rory in the woods and her ensuing kidnapping.

Clark's mouth formed a thin line. "That man's a fiend from Hell!"

Dawson shook his head, his expression grim. "Not anymore."

"You killed him?" Obie asked.

"Didn't have to, Broken Tongue got to him first."

"Hiram's dead?" Clark's eyebrows shot up. "Broken Tongue . . . why does that name ring familiar?"

"Rory delivered his son in your barn one winter night."

"Before you two married; I remember now."

In the ensuing silence, Dawson felt Obie and Clark scrutinizing him. "You two remind me of weasels hot on the trail of a mole. What's on your mind?"

Obie heaved a sigh. "You have changed, friend."

"Other than the beard, in what way?"

Low-voiced, Clark interjected, "I don't believe Obie is talking physical appearance."

"Nope, I sure ain't."

"I have only been gone a week or so, but spit it out. How have I changed?"

Obie hefted his body from the chair, walked toward him and leaned in. "You have always been more serious than Clark and me, but now, you are damn right sober."

Clark rolled his eyes. "Do not hold anything back, Obie; serve it up with honey-laced words."

Dawson flapped a hand at Clark. "He's right, no doubt. I almost lost Rory and now I have another life to fret over. Enough to make any man sit up and take notice." Dawson gave a smirk and turned the conversation. "Speaking of sober, I heard you retired the jug after meeting Anne."

Obie's face flamed scarlet. "If I live through this war, I'm settin' my sights on a little plot of land." Avoiding their gazes, he looked down. "And Anne if she'll have me."

Clark slapped a hand to his chest. "Oh, this is too much. The confirmed bachelor talking marriage."

Obie's chin snapped up. He looked from Dawson to Clark and joined them in a burst of laughter.

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