Read Online The Bride Wore Feathers by Sharon Ihle - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sharon Ihle
Ads: Link
standing before her? Was it possible the reason she thought she knew Jacob was because he reminded her so much of the Sioux warrior who'd rescued her from certain death? The voice inflections, the height and general build—everything about him was too like the Indian to be purely coincidental. It would also help to explain Redfoot's apparent ease in using the English language. But what could she do about it? She glanced up at the private, suddenly burdened by the suspicions she carried in her breast. How could she tell him that which she couldn't substantiate? What purpose would it serve other than to add to his obvious hatred of the Sioux?
Squeaks and groans of fiddles filled the hall as the musicians warmed up for the festivities. Dominique glanced at the band, then back at the soldier, and her shoulders slumped. Jacob's strong wide jaw was taut, and his intense blue eyes were narrow and thoughtful. Riddled with guilt for opening the wounds of his past, she reached across the distance separating them and placed her hand on his forearm.
"I'll bet a high-stepping reel will make us both feel better about our troubles with these savage Indians. What do you say, soldier? Care to dance?"
Jacob allowed her fingers to slip into his palm, too relieved over her apparent acceptance of him as a stranger to understand what she was talking about. As she led him toward the gathering crowd at the center of the room, he shifted his gaze to the end of the hall. The first sergeant was standing among the musicians announcing the beginning of the ball and the opening promenade. Jacob stepped back and shook his head. "I cannot. I do not know how to do this dance."
But Dominique was ready for him. "Private Stoltz," she chided, again slipping her hand in his, "Aunt Libbie warned me about you soldiers. She said it's sometimes difficult to get a man out on the dance floor when all his feet are trained to do is march."
The crazy one tugged at him, making it impossible for him to do anything but follow. Grumbling under his breath, Jacob allowed 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,
Squeaks and groans of fiddles filled the hall as the musicians warmed up for the festivities. Dominique glanced at the band, then back at the soldier, and her shoulders slumped. Jacob's strong wide jaw was taut, and his intense blue eyes were narrow and thoughtful. Riddled with guilt for opening the wounds of his past, she reached across the distance separating them and placed her hand on his forearm.
"I'll bet a high-stepping reel will make us both feel better about our troubles with these savage Indians. What do you say, soldier? Care to dance?"
Jacob allowed her fingers to slip into his palm, too relieved over her apparent acceptance of him as a stranger to understand what she was talking about. As she led him toward the gathering crowd at the center of the room, he shifted his gaze to the end of the hall. The first sergeant was standing among the musicians announcing the beginning of the ball and the opening promenade. Jacob stepped back and shook his head. "I cannot. I do not know how to do this dance."
But Dominique was ready for him. "Private Stoltz," she chided, again slipping her hand in his, "Aunt Libbie warned me about you soldiers. She said it's sometimes difficult to get a man out on the dance floor when all his feet are trained to do is march."
The crazy one tugged at him, making it impossible for him to do anything but follow. Grumbling under his breath, Jacob allowed 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,
Similar Books
