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  DANCE WITH DESTINY

  Becky Lower

  Dance with Destiny

  Copyright© 2016 Becky Lower

  Cover Design Livia Reasoner

  Prairie Rose Publications

  www.prairierosepublications.com

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Ohio Hill Country, April, 1861

  Susannah Myers pummeled her husband's shoulders as her lips pressed together in a tight, angry line. “Running off to war and leaving me alone to care for our four little ones is not right. I can’t do this on my own. How will we ever survive? We are only good if we can face our hardships together.”

  William took hold of her hands and stilled them. He kissed her callused fingers and then grazed her lips. She stopped fighting him and laid her head on her husband’s broad shoulder, letting her hot tears fall.

  "It'll only be for a few months, Susannah. Summer’s coming on, so it won’t be so hard for you to get by. There are plenty of chickens for food and eggs, I’ve stocked the smoke house with deer, and Jacob can start on the planting, so you’ll have potatoes and fresh vegetables. I have no choice as to whether I stay or go. I have to volunteer. Every able-bodied man in southern Ohio is being asked to do his part. Daniel was out here just the other day to make sure I'd sign up."

  Susannah straightened up and took a deep breath. She moved away from him, trying to distance herself from the feeling of abandonment. To get used to the feeling of abandonment. "We have four children, William, and the oldest of them is only nine years old. Is volunteering for service worth it when, by leaving, you’re putting the lives of your children in jeopardy?”

  He spread his hands wide. "Of course, if I had any say in the matter, I’d want to be right here, with my woman and my babies. But, it's my duty to serve. And I swear it will only be for a couple of months. I've only signed on for ninety days. After that, I'll be home. Don't worry. I'll just be gone for the summer. All we're doing is guarding the nation's capital until the southerners are subdued. We won't be anywhere near the battle zone. I'll be home before you can even tell I'm gone."

  Susannah faced him again, trying once more to make him see reason. "I’ll miss you the minute you leave, William. The ache in my heart is already there. We don't even own any slaves. Why must you fight these battles? It doesn't affect us. It doesn’t make sense."

  "The government is trying to keep the country from splitting into two parts. We must prevent that at all costs. Our ancestors came from Germany to southern Ohio to find a new way of life in this great country, and so far, it’s worked well for us, even though it’s a hard struggle each year. But if the nation splits into two parts, it will never be the same. It will never be the mighty force it should be."

  Susannah sighed, fully aware her protests were falling on deaf ears. "Promise me, then. By the time the first snow comes, and you know how early it comes here in the hills, you'll be home."

  "I promise." William kissed her lips, then began to unbraid her hair. She shivered under his touch, anticipating his next move. His lips warmed the back of her neck as he ran his fingers through her now unfettered locks. "I love your hair, woman. It reminds me of a corn tassel, so light and soft. Now, sweet one, why don't you say goodbye to me as a proper wife should say goodbye to her husband?"

  Susannah caught the gleam in her husband's eye. It was so unfair. She enjoyed making love to him so much, he could get away with anything when he had that twinkle in his eye and his lips on hers. Life as a farmer had sculpted his body into a trim, muscular package topped by a head full of beautiful sandy hair and twinkling brown eyes. When a lock of his thick hair fell over onto his tanned brow, she became all soft and gooey inside. She gave up trying to be annoyed and led him by the hand into their bedroom. One last bittersweet night of lovemaking before her husband became a Union soldier. One last night to build a memory of how his touch always lit her on fire. One last evening to feel loved.

  Several hours later, they lay entwined with each other, whispering about their lives and their children.

  William ran his hand over her hip. "Hannah will be a great help to you. Put her in charge of the milking and getting Bossy up to the pasture each day. Jacob can handle the chickens and the wood. Sully told me he'll come out every now and again to check on you, and to bring you fresh meat. You'll see, everything will work out."

  She kissed him and ran her hand over his body as a smile lit her face. "As long as you come back to me, William, yes, everything will be fine. Now, make love to me again, as a proper husband on the eve of his deployment would."

  William's lips quirked up on one side as his grin grew. His lips blazed a trail down her neck to the indentation between her collarbones and back up to her ear, where he nibbled on the shell. Her breathing became ragged as she wove her fingers through his hair and explored his mouth with her tongue. When he positioned his body weight over her parted legs and entered her, she didn't care if she'd be dead on her feet tomorrow. She needed to hold him close and tuck the memory of his lovemaking away to keep her warm over the next few months. She willingly gave herself over to the pleasure they brought to each other.

  As they were both sliding into much-needed sleep, William said, "I want you to dress the children up tomorrow and we'll all go into town together. I want them to see their father in his uniform, so they can be proud of me."

  "They are proud of you, even without a uniform, William. You're their father."

  "And I'm making life harder for all of you than it already is. Even though it will take all day to get to town and back, I want to give them a memory to keep. Something they can hold on to until I return.”

  Susannah sighed. "All right, then. We'll all head into town with you."

  The work would still be here when she returned with the children. Meals needed to be prepared, the barn mucked out, the cow led out to pasture. But William was right. Their children needed to see that their father was a Union soldier, part of a huge American effort, even if it had no direct impact on their lives. Tomorrow would be only the start of the hardest summer yet of her life.

  ♥•♥•♥

  Long shadows were falling over the hills as Susannah and her children pulled up at the homestead. She hustled the littlest ones–four-year-old Lydia and the toddler, George–into the small log house, which William had built with his own hands twelve years prior, when they first arrived on this little spit of land as a newly-married couple. The excitement of the long day had taken its toll on her children and the youngest ones had fallen asleep on the ride out from town. Jacob and Hannah unhitched the horse and put him in the barn before Hannah got the bucket and began to milk the cow.

  By the time Hannah returned with a bucket of fresh, creamy milk, the two youngest children had been tucked into bed and dinner had been started. Susannah positioned the meat pie into the Dutch oven William had created for her, and waited for it to brown up. Hannah finished scraping the cream from the top of the milk and put it into the cool root cellar until tomorrow, when they'd have time to churn butter.

  Barely able to keep her eyes open, Susannah's feelings for her husband overwhelmed her. Pride came first. He had been among the first to answer the call for volunteers. Defending his country was nearly as important to him as defending his family. Her chin had come up and her lungs had filled with deep satisfying breaths as Colonel Alexander McCook swore her husband and their
neighbors in to the 1st Ohio Infantry. Outfitted in their dashing blue uniforms, they all boarded a train to take them to Washington, DC, where they would pull garrison duty and protect the nation's capital.

  Most everyone was so focused on the men boarding the train that they didn’t even see the chiseled Indian who had ridden through town on a big dark horse with markings on its flank. But Susannah noticed him. Her skin prickled with gooseflesh as their eyes met. She turned from him, put her arms around her children, faced the train that was departing, and waved goodbye to her husband. When she glanced around again, the Indian was gone. Almost as if he’d never been there.

  The men were jubilant, as if this was a lark, while the women left behind were somber, faced with the knowledge of the hardship they'd endure while their husbands were gone. Fury and pride warred with each other on the faces of the women as they said their goodbyes through a haze of tears. For her, the feeling of betrayal came next. Love came after that, but probably should have been first. He'd kept her up most of the night, giving her so much satisfaction that she'd be able to withstand three months apart. Her lips pressed together in the same tight line as the previous day, when he’d told her of his decision.

  "Wasn't Daddy wonderful today, Mama?" Susannah smiled at Hannah's obvious love for her father.

  "He did look quite dashing in his new uniform, didn't he?"

  "Will he be able to bring it home with him once he comes back?" Jacob asked as he slumped over the table, fighting to stay awake.

  "It would be nice if he could, so you could try it on when you get a bit older. You’d be quite handsome in a uniform."

  Her two eldest children were as dog-tired as the younger ones, but their father had impressed upon them before he left how much he was counting on them to help their mother. Jacob was now the man of the family, charged with the duty of keeping everyone safe. Yet he was only seven years old, barely strong enough to shoulder a rifle. And Hannah took her role as eldest daughter very seriously, anticipating what needed to be done even before Susannah, most of the time. Susannah's gaze left the Dutch oven and roamed over them. They were good children who could be counted on to do their share of the chores. She didn't doubt they'd pitch in and do what they could. But they were mere youngsters, and didn't have the stamina or strength to carry out the multitude of tasks a farm even as small as this created. She needed her husband here to shoulder his share of the burden. Who would till the soil and get the garden ready for corn?

  She squeezed her eyes shut to prevent her children from seeing her tears of doubt. They'd take things one day at a time. It would soon be summer, which was the easiest of the seasons to deal with. They'd have food from the garden. They had enough chickens to spare one for the pot each week. A cow to provide milk and butter. They'd get by.

  Susannah placed a hand on her fluttering stomach before she opened her eyes back up. She placed her arms around her children, drawing them into an embrace.

  "Dinner's smelling good, so it's almost ready. Hannah, can you please set the table? And Jacob, I'll need more wood brought in, and another bucket of water."

  They set about doing their assigned duties without so much as a whimper, and Susannah sighed. One day at a time. Ninety days to go.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Lone Wolf had made his way south, letting his horse lead the way. Since he had no idea where to go, he gave the horse his head and let him wander. Was he still even able to call himself Lone Wolf? Or, if by stepping off the Ojibwa reservation, had he relinquished his right to his Indian name—and once again, became Raoul Lafontaine, son of a French Canadian fur trader.

  Sooner or later he and his horse, Ziigwan, would come to a place that seemed right and they would stop. And then perhaps he could decide what the remainder of his life would be. His sense of direction told him the horse was headed southeast from the Canadian camp, skirting the large body of water the Indians called Lake Gitchi-Gummi. The direction was opposite from St. Louis, where his family lived, which was fine with him. He did not fit in with them, even though they were blood. He longed to see his parents again, but now was not the time. He brushed his long hair from his eyes and picked up his pace.

  On his ninth day out from the Ojibwa camp, Lone Wolf's world again came into focus. His scattered thoughts calmed as he surveyed the land around him. He had briefly wandered into a town at the base of the mountain, where a ceremony of some kind was taking place, but he left before anyone noticed him. Except for the woman. Her bonnet shielded her eyes to some extent, but Lone Wolf could tell they were as blue as a mountain lake. They stared at each other for a long moment before she had turned away. He took a deep breath as she severed their connection and turned away himself, hoping no one else witnessed his arrival. He wanted to be alone.

  Mountains lay ahead of him, rocky crag outcroppings at every turn. The landscape reminded him of the Ojibwa camp. There were signs of animals–deer tracks, rabbits running ahead of him into their hiding spots, even a wild turkey or two. He should have no trouble finding food here. He went higher into the mountains. All he needed was a place to camp. He clasped his hands together and said a silent prayer to the Almighty One for leading him here. He was at peace.

  "We may have found our new home, Ziigwan. Good job." Lone Wolf patted the neck of his black horse with the blaze of white on its muzzle, who had led them to these mountains. He slid off the back of the horse in an easy motion and held the reins as they went higher into the outcroppings. After several minutes, they came to a bowl-shaped field of grass open to the sky. On the other side of the area, and about twenty feet up, was an opening into a cave. It might do as a shelter. Lone Wolf's chest expanded as he took in the view. He wove the reins around a nearby tree and proceeded to the cave opening. He sniffed as he stood in the entrance to the cave. The last thing he wanted to do was have a run-in with a bear just coming out of hibernation, but he sensed the cave was vacant.

  Once he cleared the mouth, the cave opened into a large single room that he could stand up in. The sloping ceiling reminded him of being in a tepee. Yes, this could be a good home. For now, anyway. He would have to find some shelter for his horse, but there was plenty of grass for Ziigwan to graze on. Lone Wolf had overcome bigger obstacles before. Yes, this would do. He once again thanked the gods, and thanked his grandfather instead of cursing him, as he'd been doing this entire trip, for forcing him to take action.

  An afternoon with his bow and arrow netted him a rabbit for his evening’s meal of stew. All he needed now was some firewood and water and he would be set for the night. His mouth watered as he thought of the meal ahead. If he could find some potatoes or carrots, he would be almost happy, which had been an elusive concept for a long time. He continued his walk through the woods, searching for some wild mushrooms to put into his pot for dinner. A crudely fenced pasture came into view at the edge of the woods.

  His muscles tensed while he hid in the trees and stared at the fenced-in area. Someone lived here, or had, at some time. He waited until the shadows lengthened before he went up to the fence, which was constructed from small logs planted vertically into the ground and then wound together with rope. He peered into the rocky clearing. There was a lean-to shelter, but he could see no animals. Was this place abandoned? It would be a wonderful area in which Ziigwan could graze. Lone Wolf vaulted over the fence and glanced around. Hay and water buckets were placed within the lean-to, along with an old milking bucket. There must have been a cow around here somewhere. An image of a gourd filled with frothy milk came into his mind, and his mouth watered. Where was the blasted cow?

  The field was empty. The same as his stomach. He leapt back over the fence. If nothing else, he might be able to keep Ziigwan here. He might not have milk or potatoes for his rabbit stew, but he was content with his new home. Except for his misstep of riding through town when the entire population was standing outside at the train station, the afternoon had been a good one.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Four weeks had pas
sed since William climbed aboard the train headed to Washington, DC. Four long, hard weeks filled with chore on top of chore. Susannah and her children fell into bed each night, exhausted. She had always worked hard, but being in charge and the only one responsible for the livelihood of all her children was the hardest task she'd ever taken on. She woke up each morning terrified at the prospect of another lonely day. The knot between her shoulders grew larger. Her stress eased only a bit when Sully rode up to the house with the first letter from William, along with some fresh meat.

  She'd tried, and failed, to keep her negative thoughts about William’s decision to serve his country to herself while Sully visited.

  "How are things going up here, Susannah?"

  "I won't lie to you and say we are doing fine. It'd be so much easier if William were here instead of off in Washington, DC."

  "We are all being asked to sacrifice for this war. It'll be over soon, once those southern boys get a taste of us, and all the men will be home before long."

  "What makes you so certain this war will end swiftly? Those 'southern boys' as you call them, are fighting for their way of life. They’re not about to give up easily."

  Sully shifted in his seat, unable to answer her question, or to make eye contact. Just as she thought. He was having his doubts about the brevity of the war, too.

  "How are your children doing? Are they helping out?"

  "As much as they can. They're good children, but they're still little. They can't carry a full load. That's my husband's job."

  Sully shook the reins, making the harness bells ring out. He jumped down from his seat and stood in front of Susannah, bristling at her comment. “Your husband’s job this summer is to defend our nation’s capital. We who are too old to fight are helping out the women and children, so I’ll be back every week or so to lend a hand where I can.”