Free Dakota Dream by Sharon Ihle

himself to be led onto the dance floor. He glanced around the room, looking for something, anything, to use as an excuse to leave her side.
    But the music started, and Jacob was swept from his thoughts into a swirling cloud of skirts and waving arms. Laughing gaily, singing along with the musicians, the crowd passed him from one woman to another, into a quick embrace or a fast spin, over and over again. Trapped in boots of stiff leather, his feet felt as if they'd been sucked into a bog, and the agile hunter tripped time and time again.
    "Oh, turn her to the left and turn her to the right," the fiddler sang. "Twirl your partner all through the night. Turn those pretty pretty girls you were lucky to find, and forget those pretty little girls you left behind." When the music finally ended, Jacob stood confused and off balance.
    "Well?" Dominique said with a breathless laugh. "How'd you like that?"
    Jacob shrugged, looking for an avenue of escape. "I am not sure."
    Dominique's expressive eyes lit up as she laughed and said, "Maybe later we can dance to a waltz. That might be more to your liking."
    " ' Scuse me, Miss DuBois," a young soldier said from behind. "May I have this next dance with you?"
    Vaguely irritated at the intrusion, Dominique whirled around and smiled uncertainly.
    "Begging your pardon, Miss DuBois. It's me, Lieutenant Macky— remember me? I found you in the snow and brought you to your uncle?"
    "Oh, yes, of course. Thank you—I'd love to." Again she smiled, then turned back to Jacob. "Thanks for the dance, Private Stoltz. Maybe I'll see you later."
    And because he had no idea what was expected of him at this juncture, if he should or shouldn't allow the other man to interfere with them, Jacob bit his lip and offered a short nod. Then he averted his gaze, unable somehow to watch the lean soldier take his gift away from him.
    Jacob forced his thoughts to the soldiers, to Custer in particular, and tried to regain his focus on the main objective: his mission. He was to listen to the conversations of the officers, ingratiate himself with those in positions of power, and learn whether the Long Knives had made plans for the capture of his people. That done, he and the council could determine how best the Lakota might avoid the soldiers' traps. Jacob was, in essence, the eyes and ears of the entire Lakota nation. Now he toiled to that end, determined to avoid thinking about or even looking at Dominique, but his gaze moved of its own volition, sifting through the crowd until it came to rest on her striking features.
    She was dancing with yet another in an endless line of soldiers, this one an officer with many decorations on his dark blue jacket. Clearly the niece of the Long Hair was prized above all the women at the fort. And just as clear was the danger he would face if he allowed his fascination with her to get in the way of his mission. She stirred him and managed to bring emotions and memories to the surface he was better off forgetting— she was someone he would be better off forgetting. As Jacob worked to that end, his mouth puckered into a scowl, and dark thoughts shadowed his eyes. Looking for a distraction, he glanced away from the dance floor and made a casual appraisal of the weapons stowed beneath the refreshment table. He was counting the types of rifles when Dominique glided over near him and reached for a glass of punch.
    "Whew," she gasped, waving a hanky in front of her face. "I need a rest. What has you in such a state of horrors, Jacob?"
    He turned to her and said, "Horrors?"
    At the repetition of her word, Dominique clasped her hand across her mouth and looked around for the Custers . They were not within hearing distance. "I'm sorry. That just sort of slipped out. It means you're looking in low spirits, but the way I said it isn't a proper phrase for a young lady to use."
    Jacob shrugged. "Then maybe you are not a lady." He meant it in the nicest possible way, but at her gasp and look of