“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t understand everything that I saw, and I had no intention of scouting for him. My place is here with you.”
She finally looked up. “Then why are you going?”
Case was silent a moment before he answered, “Morning Star.”
Libby was astonished. It had been years since she’d heard him speak that name. “Your sister? What has she got to do with Crook and Geronimo?”
“I don’t know, beloved, but there is a connection.”
Libby moved across the porch and sat beside him. “What have you seen?”
Case frowned as he took Libby’s hands. “It’s not what I have seen so much as what I have felt.” He shook his head. “I had given her up for dead years ago, long before I met you, even. After Gato kidnapped her, Jedidiah and I spent years looking for her, but we found no trace. Gato sold her to Mexican slavers, and the earth swallowed her up.”
Libby reached out and gingerly touched the simple carved medallion that hung from a buckskin cord around his neck. It was so much a part of him that she sometimes forgot it was there. It was an unadorned version of the magnificent Thunder Eagle necklace that Gato had stolen on the day he murdered Case’s parents. Case had made it to symbolize his love for his slain family, and even after the original necklace was restored to him, he had continued to wear the simple copy as a tribute to his missing sister. One eagle feather, representing her life, hung from the medallion.
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“And now you believe she is alive?” Libby asked, praying that he was right. It had been nearly twenty years since Case had seen his sister, but she knew he still grieved for the lost child whose fate had been a painful mystery for so long.
“Yes, and somehow scouting for Crook will lead me to her, just as it led me to you . . . and to Gato eight years ago.”
Libby took Case’s hand and laced her fingers through his. “Then you have no choice but to go with Crook.”
Case squeezed her hand and pressed his lips against her temple. “I knew you would understand, beloved,” he murmured.
“When will you leave?”
“I will go to Crook tomorrow. I promised him I would act as interpreter when he speaks with the other Apache.”
“When will the campaign against Geronimo begin?”
“Crook doesn’t know, but it may not be for a while yet. I won’t be leaving until the campaign begins.”
Libby sighed with relief. It might take Crook months to prepare.
Case wrapped his arms around his wife. “When I go, I’ll ask Jedidiah to come stay with you and the children.”
“Good.” She smiled up at him, pleased with the thought of having their old friend so close. Jedidiah’s small cabin was only a few miles away, but he was spending more and more time in the mountains these days. “He stays away too long.”
“And Meade will be home soon,” Case reminded her. “You won’t be alone, beloved. I’ll see to that.”
“I know you will.”
He cupped her jaw and raised her face to his. “You are my life, Libby,” he said softly. “If you tell me to stay, I will stay.”
“I know that, too,” she replied. “That’s why I would never ask.”
He gathered her close, and their long, tender kiss blossomed into the quiet passion that made them one spirit, one soul, one life.
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9
My dearest sister,
Even as I write this letter, I have no idea whether it will find you or not. I have begged Agent Newsome to deliver it to you, and I can only hope that he will take pity on us and place it in your hands along with the parcel I am including.
Father is alive and growing a little stronger with every passing day.
I know he has been your deepest concern, but you may rest easy. He longs to be as active as he was before, but seems resigned to the changes his weakened heart has forced upon him.
Naturally his greatest concern is for your welfare, and we all ache for news of how you are faring. We love you, and we miss you, dear Skylar, and we are doing everything we can to secure your release.
How I wish I could say that would be soon, but it seems that we have become trapped in a sea of bureaucratic nonsense. General Whitlock in Santa Fe could not help us, and I have been forced to initiate a correspondence with . . .
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The tears in Skylar’s eyes made the words blur beyond recognition, and she had to stop for a moment. It was the second time she had read Rayna’s letter since Agent Newsome had given her the packet less than an hour ago. She had devoured this one as well as the letter from her mother and the brief note from her father that proved he was indeed alive.
The joy of knowing that was more than enough to overshadow the disappointing news that Rayna had related in the rest of her letter. Skylar could endure anything now that she knew her father was alive.
At long last she had a tangible connection to her family. Smiling through her tears, she touched the packet of writing materials Rayna had sent her.
They were lying on the end of the wagon the Verdes’ had driven to the agency to collect their supplies, but otherwise the wagon was empty. Her friends were standing in the long line awaiting their weekly rations, and Skylar knew she should join them, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. She wanted to savor Rayna’s letter, so she dried her eyes and read again how the military departments had changed, how Rayna had waited in Santa Fe for Whitlock’s return, how kind and helpful Major Ashford had been.
She read Rayna’s promise to write again soon, and she smiled. Rayna hated letter writing, but Skylar had no doubt that she would eventually receive another letter from home. When that might be was anyone’s guess, of course, since this packet had taken nearly three weeks to arrive. Whether that was due to the inconsistency of the mail delivery service, the remoteness of the agency, or Newsome’s neglect, Skylar couldn’t have guessed and she didn’t care. The packet was here, and that was all that mattered. Skylar could hardly wait to return to camp and begin a letter to her family.
When she finished reading Rayna’s letter for the second time, she glanced up and noticed that Gatana was watching her. She couldn’t delay going to the ration line any longer. Clutching the parcel, she hurried across the compound and was halfway there when she noticed a disturbance near the agency office.
Looking closer, she saw Naka’yen and several subchiefs. Sun Hawk was there, too, as was the assistant Indian agent, Frank Hawley, who acted as Newsome’s somewhat ineffectual translator.
Even from a distance Skylar could tell that Naka’yen was agitated. His voice was raised, but the words were indistinct. She didn’t have to hear him to know that something was wrong, though.
“What has happened?” she asked as she hurried to Gatana.
“I do not know,” the elderly woman replied, her face drawn into lines of concern.
Others had noticed the disturbance and had begun moving toward their chief. Skylar moved, too. Gatana tried to hold her back by placing a hand on her arm, but Skylar gently shook it off and joined the others.
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“We will not go! This is our land,” Naka’yen shouted at Newsome. “It is all we have left to us. The white man has taken everything else and left us with only this one small piece of land. Our hunting grounds are gone, and there is not enough food. We will not go!”