LENGTH: Full Novel
SENSUALITY: Sensual

Cover art (c) Jenny Dixon 2002
ISBN 1-58608-173-x
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Caught up in a stagecoach accident, Fancy finds herself mistaken for another woman and assuming that woman’s life….a far better life than she has known before and one she had yearned for. And yet, the new life creates a chasm between her and the man she loves that nothing, it seems, can breach. … Until fate steps in.

"Five Stars! DAKOTA DAWN won the 2002 Eppie Award for Best Historical Romance, and it was easy to see why. A powerfully moving tale of love against all odds; Lucky and Quinn have everything going both for, and against them. A wonderfully written action-packed love story, occurring amidst the Sioux Wars led by Custer, there was enough history involved to ensure an exciting story during a turbulent time. In a fabulously descriptive manner, Ms. Marshall was able to bring forth the emotions of the soldiers going to battle, and the army wives having to wait for their men to return. You could feel the heartache felt by those wives whose man didn’t make it back. An exciting and highly emotionally charged story, I was extremely impressed with DAKOTA DAWN." Romance Junkies

DAKOTA DAWN
By

Marion Marshall

© copyright January 2001, Linda Slater
Cover art by Jenny Dixon
ISBN 1-58608-173-x
New Concepts Publishing
http://www.newconceptspublishing.com

***AUTHOR'S NOTE***

This book is not meant to be a historical narrative, but is a work of fiction based on one of the most analyzed and debated events in American history.

Marion Marshall

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to the extraordinary women of the 7th Cavalry, whose courage and self-sacrifice made it possible for their men to insure the safety of the frontier.

CHAPTER ONE

YANKTON

DAKOTA TERRITORY

March, 1875

Lucky closed the door and took a moment to make sure it was locked securely. The locks in this dump were as worn out as the rest of the room's furnishings and the last thing she wanted was unwelcome company. The company she already had was unsettling enough.

She let out a deep breath as she turned to face her visitor. He was standing not five feet from her, so tall and imposing that she fought down momentary doubts about the advisability of bringing him to her room. He was looking around in a manner that made Lucky wonder if he was as nervous as she.

Okay, Lucky, get ahold of yourself. It's not like he's the first man to cross that portal. She stared at him and shook off the despair that swelled up in her chest and threatened to cut off her breath. If only he were the first. He looks like a decent man, neat, clean, maybe even a little shy. If we had met long ago, maybe things would be different now.

Lucky's visitor turned to look at her directly for the first time since he'd approached her in the downstairs saloon a little while earlier. He smoothed the brim of his hat nervously and swallowed before he forced a smile.

"Nice place."

Lucky shrugged as she turned up the lamp on a battered chest of drawers that rested against the wall just inside the door. "It'll do." She leaned back against the chest and stared at him. "Okay, soldier boy, do you want a drink first, or do you want to get right down to business?"

The surprised expression that came to his face quickly dissolved into something very akin to embarrassment. He blinked a time or two while he appeared to be making up his mind.

"A drink…I mean…yes, a drink would be nice. Thank you."

Lucky almost laughed aloud. Instead, she pulled a bottle from one of the dresser drawers, blew into a glass resting atop the chest, rubbed it against the bodice of the chemise she was wearing, then poured it half full of the cheap whiskey. She handed it to her guest with a cynical smile.

"You soldier boys never cease to amaze me."

"Ma'am?"

Lucky shook her head as she walked slowly around him. She placed both hands on her hips as she examined him at length, pausing from time to time to glance at his curious face.

"Manners, you boys all have good manners. Soldiers are my only customers with manners. Why is that?"

"Training, ma'am," her guest replied with the hint of a smile as she circled him again. "Must be the training."

"I see. So what exactly do you do besides ride around this godforsaken country and look pretty?"

The cynicism in her voice did not fool him. She was putting on a good act, even better than the one she'd put on downstairs, but instinct had long ago taught this man that appearances were deceiving. This young woman with her aloof manner and cool eyes was not the consummate professional she was trying to appear. He knew that as well as he knew his own name. The tremor in her hands betrayed her, as did the furtive way she glanced at the bolted door occasionally.

She was young, much younger than he. That fact disturbed him somewhat. But she was very pretty, with shoulder-length, dark auburn hair and startling gray eyes that revealed an innocence long ago lost. And she was afraid of him. That fact truly disturbed him. Had she been older, more experienced, the fact that he was at least a foot taller than she and a good ninety pounds heavier wouldn't have bothered her so obviously. Her profession was a dangerous one at best. He wondered if she'd been abused by other men and felt even more guilty for being here.

"Look pretty, ma'am?"

Lucky nodded as her gaze slid up and down him. "You surely are a sight to behold, soldier boy." Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she moved around him again. "I must say, you are a handsome devil. Tall, muscular…" She touched his shoulder and let her fingers trail down his arm, across rock solid muscles that tensed beneath the long sleeved blue tunic.

"Nothing flabby or soft about you, is there? No, sir. Is that because of the training too?"

He sipped at his drink while his gaze followed her back across the room where she leaned against the chest of drawers and struck a seductive pose. "Yes, ma'am, I suppose it is."

Lucky watched him thoughtfully until he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. She knew she was making him uncomfortable, but then, that was her intention. Keep him guessing… keep him off balance…stay in control…makes him a lot less dangerous…

"Where are you from, soldier boy?" she asked aloud.

"Texas, ma'am."

"Texas," she repeated thoughtfully. "They sure grow 'em big in Texas. Just how tall are you anyway?"

"Six three, ma'am...without my boots, that is."

Lucky saw the tiniest hint of a smile touch his mouth. For a moment, she stared at him and wondered if he was really as nervous as he appeared or if he was just playing her game. "Six foot three...solid as a brick wall…hair so black it gleams like a raven's feather…good teeth…the bluest eyes I've ever seen…yes sir, soldier boy, you are surely a sight to behold."

"If that's a compliment, ma'am, I appreciate it."

"It is. It's not often I see a man who looks as good as you."

He met her bold gaze without blinking, but then he cleared his throat and sipped at his drink again to break the awkward silence.

"Okay, soldier boy, time's up. Finish your drink and let's get to it."

Her brisk tone caused his brows to arch in surprise. She stood upright and pushed the chemise strap off one shoulder.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but…"

"But what? Time is money, soldier boy. The clock's ticking."

He shrugged uneasily as he moved back a step. "It's just that...well, can't we talk a little while first? Call me old fashioned, ma'am, but I prefer getting to know something about a woman before I take her to bed."

"You want to talk?" Lucky laughed aloud but it was hollow and mirthless. "Most men, soldiers especially, don't take time to shut the door before they're all over me."

"I'm not most men, ma'am."

Lucky nodded in agreement. "I can see that. You're bigger than most… a whole lot better looking…cleaner...better educated than the ordinary soldier that comes through here. Say, you're not…funny, are you?"

His lips twitched beneath a thick mustache that was as coal black as his hair. "No, ma'am. It's nothing like that, but to be honest, ma'am, it's been a long time since I've been with a woman." He actually blushed and glanced away from her probing gaze for a moment, then looked back into her eyes. "It won't last long once we get started and I...well, I just want to make it last a little longer."

"Conversation will cost you extra."

He let out a long breath as he dug into the front pocket of his uniform trousers. "Yes, ma'am. I don't mind," he said as he laid a handful of gold coins on the crate beside the bed that was used as a nightstand. "In fact, if it's all right with you, I'll just pay for the whole night so there won't be any need to rush."

Lucky eyed the neat stack of coins. "Can you afford the whole night?"

"Yes ma'am. I've been saving up."

Lucky couldn't help laughing at the boyish enthusiasm that lit his face. She glanced at the wide brimmed hat he still held in one hand. The twin crossed sabers with the "7" nestled among them meant nothing to her, nor did the silver bars on the shoulder straps of his tunic. Nor did she realize his uniform was not the typical Army issue, but was tailored to fit his lean, powerful body. To her untrained eye, he could be just another man in a blue uniform, but something told her this man was anything but ordinary. The sudden heat that made his eyes gleam caused her stomach to do a flip.

"Okay, so what do you want to talk about?"

She could have sworn he breathed a sigh of relief when she pulled the chemise strap back into place and sat down on the edge of the bed. She patted the space beside her and watched him nervously take the seat.

"Well, how about names for starters? My name's Quinn. What's yours?"

"Lucky."

"What's your real name?"

"Lucky is my real name, at least my real nickname."

"Why is that?"

She could almost feel the tension in him ease with the conversation. He placed his hat on the crate alongside the pile of money and sipped at the drink while his gaze focused directly on her face.

This close, she could see the sparkle in his eyes. It was only at a certain angle, in an exact glimmer of light that she could even tell that his eyes were blue. They were so dark and compelling a blue, that at first glance they appeared almost as black as his hair. They were stunning, but then, so was everything about this man.

"Things have happened…I've been very lucky at times in my life."

"Like what?"

Lucky looked down at her hands folded neatly in the lap of the thin, worn chemise and interlaced her fingers. "When I was eight, my ma sent me to the creek for a bucket of water. When I got back to the house, I found that renegade Sioux warriors had murdered my entire family. I was the only survivor."

She glanced up to find that intense blue gaze fixed on her. She swallowed and shook herself mentally to erase the memory of that terrible day. "Everyone said I was lucky to be alive. The nickname stuck."

"What happened to you then?"

The soft tone of his voice was enough to convince her that he really wanted to know. That knowledge made her eyes prick with unshed tears. It had been years since she had allowed herself the luxury of tears, or confiding in anyone. She had no earthly idea what there was about this perfect stranger that made it seem so natural now to tell him her innermost secrets.

"I had no other folks so I was taken in by the local preacher and his family. I stayed with them until he took an interest in me…the kind of interest that I wanted no part of. So I struck out on my own. Been that way ever since."

"Is that why you chose this kind of life?"

"I didn't choose this kind of life, soldier boy. It chose me." Her tone had become curt again, as though she regretted the momentary softness that she had allowed him to see. "I had no education to speak of, no skills except the one God gave me, so I made the best I could of the situation."

He nodded as he rolled the nearly empty glass between both palms. "I can understand that, ma'am, but you're a beautiful woman. Surely you can move on, better yourself."

Lucky snorted. "That takes money...lots of money. The kind of money I don't have. Besides, what could I do? I still have no skills, other than the ones you've paid me for."

"The Army always has opportunities, ma'am." He paused to grin at the knowing expression that came to her face. "Not that kind," he said, shaking his head. "Officer's wives are always in need of a cook, or a housekeeper, or a nanny for their children. And the soldiers pay well for a laundress to keep their uniforms washed and ironed.

"My regiment can't keep good help. Every time a woman comes out west to work for one of the officer's families, it's not three weeks until she's snapped up and married. They've even tried hiring old, ugly women, but the same thing happened. Women are at a premium out west, ma'am. If you're willing to work, the opportunity is there."

"Are you suggesting that I enlist, soldier boy?"

"No, ma'am, not at all. I'm merely suggesting that you consider the possibilities."

Lucky got up and moved to the outside wall of the room where a small fire in the fireplace had burned down to glowing embers. "It's getting cold in here. I'll build up the fire."

She heard the bedsprings creak when he stood up, then heard the clink as he sat the empty glass down on the dresser. She knew he was standing directly behind her, for she could feel the heat rising off him.

Then she felt his hands on her shoulders, lifting her from the kneeling position in front of the fire. He turned her to face him as his hands moved down her shoulders, pulling the chemise straps down with them. For a moment, Lucky looked up into his face, relieved at the gentleness in his touch, and frightened by the slow heat building in his eyes. Then he cupped her face with both hands and leaned down to kiss her.

She was surprised. Most men didn't bother with kissing. They usually bypassed all the amenities and went straight to the purpose of their visit. This man was different. His mouth was strong and hot and she felt tiny shivers of lightening flash through her when he purposefully found her tongue with his.

This was different. She'd been kissed like this before, but never had she liked it nor had she responded the way she responded now. Her hands slid up his shoulders, encircled his neck, and she stood on tiptoes in order to meld herself against his muscular frame. She felt his hands move down her back, easing off the thin garment in their wake.

She felt his erection burn against her belly. His breathing was faster too, like he was awfully short of breath, but she couldn't be sure because her own pulse had quickened and her blood was pounding in her ears.

Her hands were shaky when she tried to open his shirt. After she fumbled with the buttons for a moment, he took over the task himself and quickly removed his shirt as he walked her backwards toward the bed.

His gunbelt and boots soon followed, then his trousers. Then they were on the bed in a tangle of arms and legs. Lucky's fingers clenched in his hair as her lips sought his. She didn't understand her response to him, for she had never felt like this with any other man, but there was no time to dwell on it because she had caught his fire.

She stiffened when he mounted her, expecting roughness and pain, but again, he surprised her with his gentleness. The passion and urgency was there in abundance, but it was outweighed by tenderness and concern. She had never been treated with such care before. For a moment she allowed herself the luxury of pretending that this was not a business contract, but a relationship between two people who cared for one another. Those thoughts brought tears to her eyes.

She blinked them away, cursing herself for being so foolish. This man probably had a wife and a half dozen kids waiting for him somewhere. She was no more than a pleasant diversion while he was away from home.

But there was no denying the unfamiliar passion that swelled through her in those moments while she was in his arms. She had feigned passion more times than she cared to think about, but this was the first time she'd ever experienced it. Now she had some idea of what it was meant to be like, and she'd never be the same again. She almost hated him for that. To be given such a rare gift, knowing it would be snatched away in a matter of moments, brought almost unbearable pain.

She pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind and instead, gave herself totally to this man. When he reached a climax moments later, it was much too soon. She wanted to stay in his arms forever. She expected him to roll off her, gather up his clothes and melt into the darkness, like all the others.

He moved off her, but gathered her into the warm, damp circle of his arms and snuggled closer. One hand held the back of her head against his chest while he smoothed her tumbled auburn mane.

"See, I told you it wouldn't last long."

Lucky shifted positions so she was able to look up into his face. His eyes were closed, his breathing slowing now as the heat from the fire dried the dampness from their bodies.

"Maybe so, but it was sure something while it lasted," she said softly as she made tiny circles through the mat of crisp, damp curls on his chest.

The expression on her face quickly told him that her thoughts were sincere. He thought he caught the glimpse of tears before she dropped her gaze from his. He swallowed and closed his eyes again as he drew her closer into his embrace. She felt good in his arms, like a natural extension of himself somehow. That thought disturbed him more than he cared to admit.

"However," Lucky was saying. "You did pay for the whole night, didn't you?"

"Yes, ma'am, I did. But my nights are probably a whole lot shorter than yours."

"What do you mean?"

"Reveille sounds at a quarter to four. My company will be on the move by five."

"You're leaving Yankton?" Lucky asked, hoping her voice did not betray the sudden anguish in her heart.

"Yes, ma'am. We came to pick up a bunch of new recruits. Now we've got to take them back to the fort."

Lucky swallowed hard and blinked back her emotions. Then she let out a shuddering breath and trailed one fingertip along the firm plane of his jaw. "Well, then, soldier boy, I suggest you get busy. I want you to get full measure for your money."

Her cynical tone did not fool him. He had the strangest feeling that she was as moved by this experience as he. Her lips were soft and sweet when he kissed her again and began a sensual exploration of her supple body.

"Just one thing."

He looked at her curiously as she took both his hands and held them up to the light, turning them over and examining them at length before letting them curve once more around her. "What's that about?" he asked.

"Just making sure your hands are clean…the nails especially."

"Why?"

She shrugged, then slid upward in the bed to reach his face. "The preacher I told you about…he had dirty hands…long nasty nails." She shuddered involuntarily, then forced a brief smile. "Even a whore has some standards, soldier boy. Clean hands and fingernails are mine."

"Do I pass the test?"

She smiled at his question and dipped her head to kiss him softly before answering. "Oh, yes. Not only do you pass, but you go to the head of the class. Now, time's wasting. It will be time for reveille, or whatever you call it, before you know it. Better get busy."

"Yes, ma'am," he drawled with a grin as she reached down to pull the covers up over their heads. "If there's one thing I do well, it's take orders."

***

Lucky plumped the pillows up so she could sit up in bed and watch him dress. It was very early and the saloon below them, as well as the streets outside, was dark and quiet. He had built up the fire when he first got out of bed so that the warm glow was beating back the cold March night as he put his clothes back on.

When he was fully dressed, he turned to the packing crate to pick up his hat. Then he leaned down and kissed her one last time. His fingers slid gently across her cheek as he stared at her for a moment.

"Lucky, think about what I said…about getting out of this life. You're a beautiful, sensitive girl. You deserve better."

She felt a strangled urge to cry as he walked purposefully toward the door. It took all her strength not to leap out of bed and chase after him. Instead, she clenched her fingers in the sheets and watched him open the door.

"Quinn!"

He turned at the sound of his name, his brows raised curiously. His name on her lips made his chest tight and his groin start to ache again.

"My name? It's Lucinda…Lucinda Douglas."

"That's a pretty name. But I think I like Lucky better," he said with a wicked grin. Then he stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him.

When he had gone, she climbed out of bed and went to the window. She could barely make out his image as he stepped off the boardwalk and disappeared into the morning mist.

She let out a long shuddering breath and let the curtains fall back into place. Then she remembered the money and went to collect it. Her eyes widened in shock as she picked up the array of coins he had left on the packing crate.

"Holy….!" She whispered after counting the money a second time. "Five hundred dollars! He left five hundred dollars!"

Her thoughts immediately sprang to the possibilities that much money opened up. You deserve better, he'd told her. Damn right I do! I deserve much better, and thanks to you, I've got the means now to do something about it!!!

Her eyes narrowed to hot gray slits while she tried to remember all the things he'd told her. Cook, naw, I can't cook worth a….housekeeper, sure I can do that…nanny…I can do that too. And any fool can wash and iron clothes!

Her mind was made up. She hurried to the bed and yanked her old worn reticule from beneath it and began stuffing her few meager belongings into it. The steamer left Yankton at daylight and she had plenty of time to make it. She paused in front of the dresser with its cracked mirror and saluted herself with a determined smile.

"Goodbye, Yankton. Hello, Army! Lucky Douglas reporting for duty!!"

For the first time in her young life, Lucky was completely lighthearted as she scurried down the empty hallway toward the stairs. When she emerged on the boardwalk into the biting cold of the March pre-dawn, she drew a deep breath and exhaled a silvery plume of relief. She was putting this sordid chapter of her life behind her forever and moving on to better things. She walked briskly down the street toward the harbor without even a backward glance.

CHAPTER TWO

"Ten-hut!"

The gruff voice of the First Sergeant echoed through the brisk morning dawn as Quinn rode up to the column forming on the west side of Yankton.

One hundred fifty soldiers saluted at the sergeant's command, then waited impatiently beside their horses to be on the march. Quinn returned the salutes, then wheeled his own mount into position at the head of the column beside his junior officer.

"Morning, Captain Malone," Lieutenant Alex Browning said with a grin. "I was about to send out a patrol to look for you."

"I'm not that late."

The young lieutenant adjusted his hat to shield his eyes from the rising sun glinting through the fog as he eyed Quinn's disgruntled expression. "No, sir. But when ranks are formed and you're nowhere in sight, I start getting nervous."

"I was detained."

"This detainment, sir, was she blonde or brunette?"

Quinn shot Browning a quick glance, unable to keep from smiling at the young man's boldness. "Neither, Lieutenant. She had auburn hair, as a matter of fact."

Then his smile faded as he twisted in the saddle to survey his waiting troops. His sharp eye touched everything from Sergeant Brigg's vigilant watch over the men to the green recruits they had come to Yankton to collect.

"Is everyone here, Sergeant Briggs?" he asked the bearded middle-aged man who awaited his orders.

"All present and accounted for, sir!"

"That's amazing in itself," Quinn said, more to himself than anyone else. "Well, then, First Sergeant, mount your troop. We're five hundred miles from home, gentlemen. I'd like to get these recruits a couple of hundred miles into the wilderness before they decide they were a bit too hasty in enlisting."

"That probably won't happen until they get their first taste of fighting Indians, sir," Lieutenant Browning suggested as he smoothed his hat down against the cool breeze. "And by then, it'll be too late anyway."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Quinn replied as he turned back around in the saddle.

"‘A’ Company, Seventh Cavalry, prepare to mount!" Briggs bellowed as he turned to his horse. "Mount! Column by twos, forward, ho!"

The column began its arduous journey back home by moving through the deserted Yankton dawn. Off to the east, the steamer's whistle screeched through the morning stillness, but it was drowned out by the tinkle of a hundred and fifty sets of bridle bits and the creak of leather as the company moved smartly toward open country.

The morning sun was shrouded in fog. When Quinn turned to look behind him, it was impossible to see further than the first eight or ten rows of troopers. He pulled his heavy outer coat more closely around him and wished he'd had time for breakfast before beginning the grueling day's march. Even a cup of hot coffee would have sufficed.

However, he didn't regret arriving back in camp too late for breakfast. In fact, he didn't regret much of anything about last night. True, the girl had been a lot younger than he'd first thought when he saw her in the saloon the night before, but by the time he figured out just how young she really was, he was too far gone to care. He almost snorted aloud to think how awkward and foolish he'd felt with her. It had been as bad as his first time when he was just a kid. It had taken him over an hour just to work up the courage to approach her.

The only thing that had spurred him into action at all had been another man who was eyeing her from across the room. Why had she been the one to catch his eye? He shook his head at the thought. She was the most beautiful woman in the saloon. That much had been obvious at first glance, but it was more than her physical beauty that had finally made him approach her.

While he'd been observing her at a distance, he'd seen her fearfulness and the disgust at what she was doing. She hated it and it showed. He'd felt an unfamiliar surge of compassion while he watched her convince men to buy drinks and gamble.

Stray dogs, green recruits, and now beautiful young whores, he thought to himself. Pretty soon they'll be calling me Uncle Quinn and knitting me scarves.

"Something on your mind that you want to talk about, Captain?"

Lieutenant Browning's question shook Quinn from his thoughts. He glanced over at the young man's curious expression and shook his head. "No, why would you think that?"

Alex Browning grinned. "Because you're talking to yourself, sir. I don't think I've ever heard you do that before."

Quinn was grateful that his heavy coat hid most of his face and the flush he was certain that covered it. "Just thinking out loud, Lieutenant. That's all."

"About what, sir?"

"About being five hundred miles from the fort, about to head into hostile territory with only a handful of trained soldiers, and about having to worry about another hundred green recruits who are more likely to break and run than fight if we run into trouble."

"Aw, but Captain, you're forgetting who we are."

Quinn's brows rose at the bravado in Browning's voice. "And just what, Lieutenant, pray, are we?"

"We're ‘A’ Company, sir, of the Seventh Cavalry, the finest fighting force in the United States Army. That's who we are!"

"Yeah? Well, tell that to the newest members of our little assembly who are frozen stiff, scared stiff, and who will, most likely, wet their pants at the first sign of a hostile. They can't ride. They can't shoot. Hell, Lieutenant, they can't even stay awake."

Browning glanced over his shoulder at the long blue column stretched out behind them and grinned. The regular members of ‘A’ Company were distributed throughout the column to make sure the new recruits didn't fall off their horses or lag behind. It was easy to pick out those men. They rode straight and proud, eyes straight ahead, alert and focused.

The recruits were just as easy to spot. They slumped in their saddles, some of them dozing as they rode, all of them sadly lacking in the skills that made a man the pride of the 7th Cavalry.

"I see your point, sir. But we'll get them whipped into shape soon enough."

"Of course we will, Lieutenant. Providing that the Sioux doesn't get them first."

"Are you worried they may jump us before we get back to Fort Lincoln, Captain?"

A touch of concern had replaced the bravado in the young officer's voice as he stared at Quinn through the haze.

"Lieutenant, I've fought Indians for half my life. And one thing I know for certain is that you never know what they'll do until they do it. And then it's usually too damned late." Quinn's remark was sarcastic and it made Browning flush.

Quinn took a deep breath and mentally shook himself. He knew he was taking out his frustration on Browning and he didn't like it. His inner turmoil at letting a mere slip of a girl get under his skin was at the root of his irritation, not Lieutenant Browning's idle questions.

"I doubt they'll try anything," he went on in a more controlled tone. "We’ll stick close to the river and not give them any reason to attack us. This trek back to the fort will be a piece of cake."

Browning nodded. "Yes, sir. If you say so, sir."

"I say so, Lieutenant, but just in case, we'll keep the scouts out well in advance of the column. No sense in taking chances."

"Yes sir."

He could hear the relief in Browning's voice and it only made him more irritable. Damn it, stay focused, Malone. Keep your mind on this mission. Think about the Sioux. Think about this column of green kids, most of whom won't see Christmas because of the summer campaign. Think about any damned thing you can, but keep your mind off Lucky Douglas and those big sad eyes of hers. Don't, under any circumstances, think about her.

CHAPTER THREE

Lucky's euphoria was short lived. By the time the steamer docked in Mobridge, she had seen enough of the Missouri River to last her a lifetime. The trip was pleasant enough in some respects. The food was decent, the accommodations adequate, and the companionship tolerable, but the Missouri, while deep and wide in some places, was also shallow and filled with sandbars in others, making their progress unbelievably slow.

When the steam engine died just down river from Mobridge, it limped into the harbor and the passengers who were going further north were given the option of staying abroad and waiting for repairs or piling into a rickety stagecoach and finishing the trip overland.

Lucky opted for the stagecoach. So the morning after the steamer's untimely demise, she was stuffed into a vehicle with a half dozen other people to begin the arduous journey on to Bismarck.

After traveling in the slow moving vehicle all morning, she was beginning to wonder about her luck after all. It had been raining steadily since they left Mobridge at dawn and the rain and the cold of the bitter March day combined to make travel very uncomfortable. The dampness seeped into the coach from the rawhide fastenings at the windows, which also whipped about in the brisk wind until her hands and feet felt like blocks of ice.

The only bright spot in an otherwise miserable day was one of her traveling companions, the only other female aboard. Mrs. Ruby Nell Warner, her name was. She was a little older than Lucky, and a little plumper, but she had a bright disposition that no amount of bad weather or bad luck could dampen. While their male companions slept the miles away, the two women passed the time in conversation. Lucky discovered that Mrs. Warner was on her way to Fort Lincoln to join her husband; a husband she had never met.

"How can you marry a man without seeing him?" Lucky asked. She was fascinated by the woman's romantic tale and couldn't wait to learn more about it. It was the kind of fairy tale that she had often dreamed of as a child. It gave her a strange sense of peace to discover that some people's fairy tales could become reality.

"We were married by proxy," Ruby Nell Warner explained. "Someone stood in for me at the fort with Peter, and someone stood in for him with me back home in Indiana. The vows were exchanged all proper like at the same time in both places."

"So you're telling me you've never met this man?"

Ruby Nell drew her cloak more closely around her to ward off the chill seeping into the coach and nodded enthusiastically. "Not face to face, but we know each other very well. We've been writing to one another faithfully for over a year now." She patted her reticule in her lap. "I've got every single letter he's written me. I feel as though I've known Peter all my life."

"What about pictures? Didn't you at least exchange pictures?"

"No, we didn't have any pictures to exchange. Besides, looks aren't important."

They are if you find out your husband looks like a beached whale, Lucky thought, but she decided not to point that out to the obviously radiant bride.

"So what does Peter do at the fort?" she asked to keep the conversation going.

"He's the post sutler."

"Excuse me?"

"The post sutler," Ruby Nell explained with a smile. "He owns and operates the trading post at Fort Lincoln. He has a contract with the Army to supply food, blankets, ammunition and guns, whatever the soldiers need. He's very successful."

"What do you know about Fort Lincoln?"

The stagecoach rocked over a pothole in the road, making Ruby Nell catch hold of the bench seat to steady herself until it righted. "It's really quite large, Peter says. It's the home of General Custer's 7th Cavalry. In fact, it was built especially to house them while they protect the surveyors in the Black Hills. Peter says the fort has accommodations for six hundred men and horses, plus the officer's quarters. Peter says it's very impressive."

Lucky was beginning to wonder what Peter would say about helping her land a job at the fort. The more Ruby Nell talked about Fort Lincoln, the more convinced Lucky became that she really ought to investigate the possibility of employment there.

"What about you?" Ruby Nell asked. "Where are you going?"

"Bismarck, although it's only a stop over. I'm seriously thinking about trying to get a job at the fort."

"Really? What sort of job?"

Lucky shrugged beneath her thin cloak while she enviously eyed the heavier one Ruby Nell wore. "I've heard that jobs may be available for laundresses or housekeepers. I had thought I would start looking at Fort Rice, but what you've told me about Fort Lincoln, it sounds like my chances might be better there. I think I'd like to look into the possibility."

"Is that your line of work?"

Lucky nodded with a determined smile. "It is now."

Ruby Nell reached across the narrow opening between them and patted her hand. "Wonderful! I'll speak to Peter about helping you find a position just as soon as I get settled in. It will be heavenly to know someone there."

Lucky did not have the chance to reply. The first indication of trouble was a deep rumble from somewhere far above them. She heard the stage driver shout something and then the coach was jerked violently off the road when the horses seemed to go wild. She and the other passengers were flung into the floor of the coach.

Amid the flurry of arms and legs, she fought her way to the seat and jerked back the rawhide curtain at the window just in time to see the mudslide coming at them. There wasn't even time to scream before the coach was hit by a huge boulder and shoved sideways off the road.

Mud and water poured into the vehicle from the windows as it was swept away down into a steep ravine that bordered the road. She heard wood splintering, heard the other passengers screaming, and saw the coach fill with muddy water. Then the vehicle gave another sickening lurch. Her head struck the side of the bench seat and everything went black.

***

Rain pelting down onto her face finally brought Lucky around. She tried to open her eyes but the slightest movement made stabbing pain erupt behind her eyelids. She was freezing. The rain was still coming down in torrents and the cold March wind whipped across the landscape, chilling everything in its path.

Logic told Lucky she had to find shelter or die from exposure. She tried again to open her eyes. She whimpered against the blinding pain in her head but determination and a strong sense of survival pushed her until she could keep her eyes open long enough to get her bearings.

She was lying on her back on a ledge halfway down the side of the ravine where the stagecoach had landed. When she tried to move her body, she thought for a moment both arms and legs must be broken, for all movement was torture. Slowly, she turned onto her side, then used the rocky ledge to help her to a sitting position.

There was no sound except the rain and the wind; no voices, no horses whinnying, nothing but silence. She sat against the rock wall of the ravine and forced her frozen hands upward to pull her hair back from her face so she could better see her surroundings. Below, on the ravine floor, she could make out the overturned coach, or what was visible of it beneath the mudslide. The vehicle was all but buried under a solid wall of mud, rocks, and scrub brush that had been scraped off the hillside with the force of the slide.

She whimpered aloud as she struggled to her knees. Except for the bad bruise on her forehead and the ghastly pounding inside her head, she didn't seem to be injured. However, she was seeing double, her cloak was missing, she was soaking wet, and she knew if she didn't find shelter right away, she would suffer the same fate as those poor unfortunate souls she could see strewn about the ravine floor.

It took over an hour for her battered body to make the climb down the ravine wall to the coach. Her teeth were chattering so hard she was unable to keep her lips closed. She tasted her own blood, not knowing if it came from the nasty gash on her forehead or from another one elsewhere. Her face was so cold, she couldn't feel her nose, her ears, or her lips. She might have been bleeding to death and not felt the wound.

Double vision made it impossible for her to hurry down the ravine, even if her body would have allowed it. She had to stop every few seconds and close her eyes in order to focus at all on where she was stepping. Near the bottom of the cliff, her feet slipped from beneath her and she tumbled the remaining distance end over end, landing with a splat in the mud near the buried vehicle.

She passed out again from the fall, but regained consciousness more quickly than before. Holding her pounding head between both muddy palms, she cried out with the pain, then she crawled toward the coach and hauled herself upright by using the open door for a ladder of sorts.

The vehicle had been broken nearly in half with the force of the mudslide. By turning her head very slowly she was able to see the driver's body tangled in the harness of the dead team. Now that she was closer she could hear the moans of the horses that had not been killed outright by the fall. Something would have to be done about them.

Three of the four male passengers that had been abroad the coach were also scattered around the ravine. By forcing herself to concentrate very hard, she counted the bodies. Three men were dead outside the coach, and she was alive. That meant that another man and Ruby Nell Warner were most likely still inside. In spite of her own pain, a stab of fear went through her at the thought of the bright, cheerful little woman who had befriended her.

She forced screaming muscles to climb onto the coach and look inside. After blinking several times to drive back both her double vision, and the overwhelming urge to vomit, she could make out the male passenger's bald head just beneath the surface of the mud filled vehicle. There was nothing she could do for him.

There was no sign of Ruby Nell Warner. Then Lucky saw the hem of a cloak protruding from the mud. She grabbed it, pulled with all her strength, and fell backwards into the ravine when her feet slipped off the coach and she lost her balance. Stars exploded behind her eyes once more and she lay in the mud for several minutes, unable to see or catch her breath.

When she was finally able to sit upright once more, she was amazed to find the cloak in her hands. She put it on, muddy and wet though it was, and choked back a sob at the thought of Ruby Nell being buried alive. So young, so many wonderful plans…all gone in the blink of a eye…

She struggled to her feet, weaved unsteadily for a moment, then spied her reticule on the ground nearby. She picked it up and hugged it to her chest, sobbing with the relief of having something familiar to hold on to.

The injured horses moaned again and she forced her mind off her own pain and staggered toward the front of the coach. By climbing over a dead horse, she was able to grasp the butt of the driver's pistol and pull it free of his holster. It took her what seemed a very long time to weave her way toward the injured animals. Two of them were still alive, but there was nothing Lucky to do for them. Even if she, herself, were uninjured she would not have been able to extricate them from the tangled harness and tend their wounds.

She did the only humane thing she could think of. She gripped the gun in both wet, trembling hands and fired. The gunshots reverberated down the ravine until the echoes came crashing back into her head.

It was only after she was certain she had put the wounded animals out of their misery that she dropped the gun at her feet, pressed the reticule to her chest, and crumpled in a dead faint.