“Now, I’ve already dispatched some communiqués requesting information on this brave”—he consulted Haggarty’s report—”Sun Hawk. If I can track down the former Indian agent for the Mescalero reservation, he may be able to give us some valuable information about the man that would help you in your search.”
“It would be better to speak with Sun Hawk’s people,” Case replied. “If you’ll give me the necessary papers, I’ll catch up with Captain Haggarty and ask questions among the Mescalero. If they know I’m trying to help Sun Hawk, they may be honest with me.” Case stood, then hesitated. “Am I trying to help him, General?”
Crook looked at him blankly, not grasping his meaning. “I beg your pardon?”
“What will happen to the brave if I find him?”
Crook thought it over. He’d been so focused on the problem of the young woman that he hadn’t thought much about the Mescalero brave. “I’ll launch a full investigation into all of this and see if I can find the truth. If the soldier he wounded survives, I can assure you the man won’t be hanged.”
“But he will be punished.”
“As I said, Case, it all depends on the circumstances. Find him for me so that we can get at the truth and get Miss Templeton back to her family.”
Case almost smiled. It would have been so easy for Crook to offer a hollow assurance of leniency, but he never made a promise he wasn’t certain he could keep. That was the reason Case and the other Apaches trusted him so much. “I’ll do my best, sir,” he said respectfully.
“I know you will. Here.” He gave him Haggarty’s report as well. “See what you can glean from this, too. Come back tomorrow morning before you set 165
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out, and I’ll have the passes for you. I’m told that a number of citizens’ committees have started forming again, and I don’t want anyone mistaking you for a hostile.”
It was a problem Case had faced too often to take lightly. “Neither do I, sir.”
“Do you want to take some scouts with you?”
Case thought it over. “Yes. My uncle, Angry Coyote, and his son will come with me.”
“Very well. You inform them, and I’ll arrange their passes as well. And then I must write to the Templeton family and tell them what’s happened,” Crook added with a bewildered shake of his head.
Having been raised in two worlds himself, Case had a fair inkling of what Skylar Templeton was going through—and what her family was suffering. “I prefer my job to yours, sir.”
“As well you should, my friend.” Crook stood and offered Case his hand.
“Good luck.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Case left a moment later, tucking the papers Crook had given him into his shirt. He longed to study them for any scrap of information that might tell him whether or not Skylar Templeton was his sister, but he wanted to get home to Libby and share this with her as soon as possible. She would be upset that he was leaving again so soon, but she would not try to discourage him.
Her heart would bleed for the plight of poor Skylar, and even if the girl was not Sons-ee-a-ray, Libby would want her found.
As soon as Case arrived home, he explained the situation to Libby, and his assumption about her attitude was completely correct.
“Oh, Case, what that poor thing must have suffered,” she said quietly, looking over Haggarty’s report while her husband studied the letter from Skylar’s sister. “Do you think this Private Talbot was trying to assault her?”
Case didn’t want to think about it. “Such things have happened before,” he replied, trying to remain impassive. There was no proof this girl was his sister, but there was no denying that his heart had already assigned her that station.
Though Case had made no mention of Morning Star, Libby knew what he was thinking. “Is this your sister, Case?” she asked, leaning close to place her head on his shoulder.
Case touched her face lovingly and pressed a kiss to her brow. “I do not know.”
“But you think it, don’t you? You told me that your visions were trying to lead you to her, and now this has happened.”
He took Haggarty’s report from her. “The captain said the girl was a Mescalero about twenty years of age. Morning Star would be nearer twenty-five.”
Libby raised her head. “Haggarty could be mistaken.”
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“True, but how could a White Mountain Apache child like Morning Star come to be raised by a white family near Santa Fe? It is much more likely that this Skylar is indeed a Mescalero.”
Libby couldn’t help but smile. Case wanted very much to believe that this girl was his sister, but he was afraid of being hurt by a disappointment that would bring him immeasurable pain. He had kept Morning Star’s memory alive since the day she had been taken, but now that there was a chance that he might be reunited with her, he was trying to think with his head and not his heart.
“Will you be able to find her?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
Libby placed her head on his shoulder again and wrapped her arms around his waist. “If she is Morning Star, the eagle will lead you to her. Your guiding spirit has never failed us yet.”
Case wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Sometimes he wondered if his wife had a deeper Apache soul than his own.
“I pray you are right, beloved.”
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14
Skylar and Sun Hawk filled the afternoon with practical tasks. While she cooked, he began gathering the things he would need to replace the valuable weapons he had left behind with his people. After they ate, while Sun Hawk carved and cured a stout mulberry branch into a bow, Skylar mended their clothes.
They worked quietly, seldom murmuring a word, but their minds were both keenly attuned to the tension that filled the air.
In her youth, before reality had intervened, Skylar had often imagined being married in a beautiful cathedral. In the fantasy, she wore a magnificent dress, and Rayna was standing beside her, smiling happily as the bride and groom exchanged their vows.
The face of her husband-to-be had been a blank then, but it was no longer.
Skylar had pledged herself to a man whose handsome face was forever embla-zoned on her memory and in her heart. There would be no cathedral or expensive gown. Rayna might never know of her betrothal, and there would be no priest asking her to recite the vows. The wedding ceremony tonight would be very simple. When Sun Hawk went to his bed, she would join him. He would take her body and, in so doing, bind them together for as long as they lived.
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Skylar was terrified.
“What does your name mean in our language?”
His soft voice startled her, and it took her a moment to focus on his question. The valley was growing dark, and Sun Hawk had banked the fire so that it was only a red glow in the twilight. She looked across the embers at him and found that he had laid his bow aside and was studying her intently.
It took her another moment to find a suitable translation for her name. “It means ‘one who studied,’” she told him, feeling a flush of heat crawl up her cheeks. “It is a name that my white mother cherished because it belonged to her own mother who died many years ago.” It was the simplest way Skylar could think of to explain how Collie’s maiden name, Schuyler, had been transformed into her own. “Why do you ask? Does it displease you?”