White Fire

“Reshelle, open the door,” she heard her father say outside in the corridor.

When she didn’t respond, he tried another approach. “Flame, I’m sorry about having said the wrong things a moment ago,” he said, his voice drawn. “Open the door. Let’s continue our talk. I promise to keep a civil tongue.”

The fact that he had actually called her Flame a second time tonight sent a ray of hope into her heart that just perhaps he might listen to reason.

And if he wanted to get rid of her so badly, surely he could see that it could easily be done by her getting married.

“But to a man who is half white and half Indian?” she whispered to herself.

She had already decided that no matter what her father would say about her plans to marry, whether or not he gave his blessing, she was going to marry White Fire.

Holding that thought to keep her nerve up when it came to telling him that she would do as she wished and him be damned, she turned and opened the door.

Waiting, hoping for him to draw her into his arms, not having had that sort of intimacy with her father for so long, Flame gazed into his eyes.

When he stared at her for a moment, then brushed past her and went on into her room, Flame’s heart and spirits sank. Somehow, somewhere he had lost all ability to love. He was a stiff, cold-hearted man, whose only thoughts were of himself.

Through the years she had seen his gradual change into this person she scarcely knew. She felt sorry for her mother all over again during moments like this.

“Flame, I just don’t know how to communicate with you anymore,” Colonel

Russell said, turning to face her. “I am a cavalry officer. I sleep, eat, and drink the duties of a colonel. Can’t you understand? Don’t you see how my work has so overwhelmed me during these past years?”

“Yes, so much that you lost a wife’s love, and now you are close to losing a daughter’s,” Flame managed to get out, although she knew that her father surely had to be hurt at least a little by her words.

“Not because I want it that way,” Colonel Russell said. He reached for her hands and twined his fingers through hers. “Flame, I do love you. I just find it hard now to voice it aloud. Tell me you understand.”

Tears burning at the corners of her eyes, touched by how her father had finally found the words that she had so longed to hear, Flame flung herself into his arms. She could feel his awkwardness in how his arms hesitated, then moved slowly around her waist and held her tight to him.

“Flame, has my indifference hurt you so badly?” Colonel Russell said, his voice drawn with emotion. “If so, let me make it up to you.”

“Do you truly mean that?” Flame said, inching away from him. She gazed into his eyes. “Father, do you truly wish to make things up to me? Do you wish to see me happy?”

“Parents want only happiness for their children,” Colonel Russell said, reaching a hand to her cheek, softly touching it. “Tell me. What would most make you happy?”

At this moment, she hated thinking about the devious side of her father’s character, that he was building up the fort arsenal to bring war between his soldiers and the Indians. There was only now and his soft words, his soft hand on her cheek, the look of apology in his eyes.

“Father, you truly want me to tell you what would make me happy?” she asked, smiling at him, believing that he wanted to hear the truth and would give her his blessing, no matter what.

“I want nothing more at this moment than your happiness,” Colonel Russell said, his eyes slowly raking over her as she stood there so angelic and sweet before him.

When his gaze lingered longer on her generous swell of breasts than what was appropriate for a father, Flame was taken aback by the boldness of his stare.

Then he slid his hand from her cheek and brushed it against the outside of her breast, his touch seeming deliberate. Flame took an unsteady step away from him.

“Father?” she said, her voice wary.

Colonel Russell’s gaze raked, slowly over her again, and then he gazed into her eyes, suddenly aware of the alarm and question he saw in their depths.

He cleared his throat nervously. “Eh, what were we talking about?” he said, awkwardly running a forefinger around the tight collar of his uniform.

“Father, we were talking about . . . about . . . my happiness,” Flame stammered out. Suddenly, there seemed something more to their relationship. She did not want to think of where it had just taken her father. It was too frightening a thought. She would not allow herself to think of it.

“Yes, your happiness,” Colonel Russell said, wiping a bead of perspiration from his brow with the back of a hand. “Tell me, darling, what would make you the happiest? I shall see that you get it.”

“You shall?” Flame said, again thinking of White Fire, and their future together.

“Speak up, daughter,” Colonel Russell said, clasping his hands tightly behind him. “Tell me quickly. I’ve business awaiting me in my study.”