Free Elaine Barbieri by Miranda the Warrior

gotten only what she deserved—but the thought of a white woman in the hands of the Cheyenne raised a murderous fury within him.
    The memory of being officially reprimanded for his treatment of the Indians shortly after his arrival on the frontier—by an Indian-loving superior who had upbraided and humiliated him in front of the entire company—haunted Hill. The knowledge that the incident had resulted in the first blemish on his formerly spotless record raised a blood rage in him that he knew would never cool.
    “Lieutenant?”
    Hill turned toward the gruff voice beside him to see Sergeant Wallace, his jowled face composed in a frown as he waited for permission to speak. Aware of the need to regain control of his emotions, Hill paused before responding, “What is it, Sergeant?”
    “The other fellas and me … well, we was wondering—” His scowl darkening, Wallace continued with sudden fervor, “We was wondering when the major was going to let us go out and teach them Cheyenne bastards a lesson!”
    Hill scrutinized the burly sergeant silently. The man was common and uneducated, as were most of the cavalrymen in this remote, frontier outpost. Hill responded, “I think you know the answer to that.”
    “Sir?”
    “Major Thurston is content to wait until Washington gives him permission to take aggressive action against the Cheyenne.”
    “What about his daughter? Don’t he care?”
    “It seems Major Thurston is a soldier first and a father second.”
    “That ain’t natural. Hell, there ain’t a man at this fort that ain’t itchin’ to go out after them Cheyenne and
make
them tell what they did with the girl.”
    “I know, Sergeant.” Adding a note of confidentiality to his tone, Hill continued, “Very honestly, I’m disappointed in the major. I never thought to see him exhibit recreant behavior.”
    “Yeah … ah … neither did I.”
    “But you can take heart in this, Sergeant. I’m awaiting my opportunity. When it comes, you may be sure that you and the others will get the chance you’re waiting for to show the Cheyenne what you’re made of—what we’re
all
made of.”
    Gratified to see by the sergeant’s expression that he had hit exactly the right note to put himself in a favorable light, Hill added, “And you can also be sure I’ll let you know the minute the opportunity presents itself.”
    “Thank you, sir.”
    His spirits partially restored, Hill continued on down the walkway. He did not see Wallace frown as he walked back to the men standing a distance away. Nor did he know that Wallace’s first question to them was, “Do any of you boys know what ‘recreant behavior’ means?”
    “Hell, no!”
    “Not me.”
    “Never heard of it.”
    Wallace nodded. Well, he guessed he never would find out.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    The long day continued. The hours had held untold silent agitation for Shadow Walker as he continued riding across the wild terrain with the girl staggering visibly behind. The distance between them continued to lengthen as the sun began a slow descent into the horizon. He knew Miranda’s strength was failing and her distress grew greater with every step, yet she had spoken not a word of complaint.
    Shadow Walker rode forward, knowing he had no recourse—that to show mercy at this time would be considered weakness, and all that had already passed would have been suffered for naught.
    A slope of terrain and a shaded area where he had camped many times before came into view in the distance and relief swept Shadow Walker’s senses. With great difficulty he restrained the inclination to increase his pace, knowing that to do so would leave the girl too far behind.
    Consoling himself that the day’s ordeal was nearly over, Shadow Walker pressed on.
    The sun would set soon, and then they would stop. That thought driving her on, Miranda forced onefoot ahead of the other.
    Halting briefly, she raised her head toward the cloudless sky. Suddenly the buzzing insects were no longer a