by Zina Abbott
“He wants me to become your freight train scout?”
“Yes. He says the Kaw have already started training you to track and to know how to take care of yourself. You’ll be more than ready by next spring to learn the rest from him. I suspect it’s because it’s getting harder for his old bones to deal with riding from sunup to sundown and then camping out in the open, especially with the way the weather can change during spring and early summer from hot and dusty to rain and ice. I think what tipped the scales was that after you left last spring, I asked him to fill in doing your job until it was time to leave for Santa Fe. He likes being in the store.”
Charlie glanced around. “I do not see him.”
“He stepped out for some dinner, but he’s been working here since he returned.”
“If I scout for you, how will you pay me?”
“In trade goods preferably. If you want gold coin instead, I’ll see what I can do.”
Charlie considered the options and then he shook his head. “No. I do not wish to take gold coin back to Council Grove. The men will try to get it from me to buy whiskey. The store owners are quick to sell the Kansa liquor, then laugh at the men when they become stupid with drink. I would take my pay in trade.”
“Then you’ll do it?”
Charlie slowly nodded his head. “I plan to ask for a wife soon, Father. Perhaps when I come home with goods my wife and her family can use, she will not be too angry that I go away for many moons at a time.”
Charlie smiled as he watched his father lift an eyebrow. “A wife already, is it? You have someone picked out? Anyone I might know?”
“The youngest daughter of Spotted Horse.”
Charlie watched his father search his memory and knew the moment Owen realized of whom he spoke.
“Spotted Horse? He doesn’t live in your uncle’s camp. If I recall, he’s very traditional. Unless she is willing and can convince him to accept you, you may have as much trouble persuading him to allow you to marry his daughter as you would have dealing with Fergus Campbell in order to win Malinda’s hand.”
Charlie shrugged. “I no longer care for Malinda Campbell. It is Meadowlark I want. I have horses to give to her father.”
Owen eyed him with suspicion. “Please tell me you didn’t steal them from white men, Charlie. That’s a hanging offense, you know.”
Charlie shook his head. “No. We raided the Cheyenne, to pay them back for stealing horses from the Kansa during last winter’s hunt. It was good sport, and only two of us were injured, but nothing that won’t heal. I have two good ponies to give to Spotted Horse.”
Owen nodded with approval. “That will help. What do you need from the store to sweeten the deal?”
Charlie shook his head. “I have done no work to earn anything.”
“Charlie, if you will promise to return next spring in time to go with Amos and learn to be a scout for me, I’ll give you some gifts to take for agreeing….”
At the sound of the front door to the trading post slamming shut, Owen stopped speaking and Charlie joined his father in staring at the hide curtain that separated the storage area from the main store. Owen turned back to his son.
“I need to take care of customers, Charlie. Please secure the back door well enough not even you can get in and then join me out front. After I finish with whoever is out there, we’ll pick out some things you can take back with you. And maybe leave your weapons back here, will you, so you don’t make my customers too nervous?”
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Chapter 9
~o0o~
C harlie pushed aside the hide divider and stepped into the main room of the store. He had laughed at his father’s request he leave his bow and arrows in back in order to not make his customers uncomfortable. He knew his appearance as a Kansa warrior alone would do that.
At the sight of the bedraggled white man who appeared to be already in his cups on the other side of the counter as he stumbled back several steps, Charlie walked towards the corner.
The customer leaned forward and squinted his eyes. “What’s that Injun doing in here? What kind of place is this, you letting someone like him in?”
Charlie, an impassive expression on his face, folded his arms. In the past, dressed as a white man, he often dealt with customers who refused to be served by a half-breed. Now he looked so much like a Kansa that only his gray eyes and a few facial features revealed his mixed heritage, the resentment over his presence increased. Expressionless, he continued to stare at the slovenly customer as the door opened again and three more men entered.
The first man shuffled forward and pointed at Charlie. “Tell that Injun to get out of here. I ain’t doing no business with no one who sells to the likes of him.”
Charlie watched his father’s face suffuse with anger as he stretched to his full height and leaned across the counter. “I will sell to whoever I want to. If I wish to sell to him, I will. This man is my…”
His voice firm and loud, Charlie cut Owen off. “I am in no hurry. I will wait.” He strode over to the corner by the front wall on the opposite side of the door from where the three men who recently entered last stood. He dropped to his haunches and stared at a spot on the floor.
“Still don’t want him in here. I can smell him from here.”
Charlie suppressed a chuckle at the man’s accusation. He knew he had bathed that morning, whereas the filthy, unkempt white man stunk like rancid bear grease.
Anger infusing his gaze, Owen growled as he pointed towards the door. “Get out. I won’t sell to you. Go!”
Mumbling and cursing, the man stumbled out the door. Charlie continued to stare at the floor as the room grew quiet. The oldest of the three men who remained in the room cleared his throat.
“He was here before us. We can wait.”
Without looking up, Charlie gestured to his father to take care of his customers. “I am in no hurry.”
Owen moved around the counter and joined the men in the center of the room. “How can I help you gentlemen?”
The oldest spoke. “We need a few supplies, but mostly we need some information if you can help us. We’ve heard there is good farm land in Kansas Territory. We’re looking to find some acreage to claim until we can get a surveyor out to plot the ground so we can buy it. But we want good land for both crops and livestock. Do you have any idea what kind of ground lies to the west of here?”
Charlie rose to his feet and studied the men. The two youngest appeared to be in their thirties and looked to be related. The oldest, he couldn’t tell. What he did know was they were among the many Americans intent on moving onto the hunting grounds of the Kansa. Their animals would graze the grasses needed by the buffalo and their plows would tear up the earth for their crops, making the land useless for the great bison herds that had roamed the prairies for millennia.
The oldest man stepped forward with his hand extended. “Allow us to introduce ourselves. I’m Edward Palmer.” He gestured to the man on his right. “This is my son-in-law, Sidney Atwell and his brother, Jefferson Atwell.”
“Owen Jones. Please to make your acquaintance.”
Charlie watched his father return the handshake and glance his way before he continued. Charlie looked away. He would not embarrass his father by expressing his opinion on the topic.
“I don’t know much about the land west of here. I know there are several small towns started along the Kansas River that are surrounded by fairly good ground for farming plus there is Fort Riley.”
Charlie clenched his teeth. One of the towns his father referred to was Manhattan which was located near the former main camp of the Kansa once they moved across the Missouri River and settled along the Kansas River.
“I probably wouldn’t try to go too far west or you will run into hostile tribes. Perhaps you should look around Leavenworth or Lawrence.”
The man named Sidney threw up his arms. “Oh, don’t get me started on that. Nothin
g but trouble up that way.”
Jefferson Atwell shook his head. “I’m not sure we want to go north. We live in Missouri although our families originally came from the north. Even if we could afford slaves, we don’t hold with slavery. Besides us not having enough land to support our families well, the slavery question has made it uncomfortable to stay where we are. We hoped to go where slavery is not an issue to find good land.”
His arms folded, Edward Palmer bounced on the soles of his feet. “Unfortunately, ever since they passed this Kansas-Nebraska Act, there is talk about Missourians moving to the Kansas towns along the river so they can vote to make it a slave-holding state. We’ll vote against it, but we don’t want to live in the powder keg communities where there is open hostility over the issue. That’s why we’re hoping to find a place farther west where we can live in peace and take care of our families.”
The hint of a smirk on his face, Charlie looked over at the trio and caught the glance his father gave him. Although barely able to control his feelings of resentment, he chose to warn these foolish white men. “You will find no peace to the west. You will not travel many days before you will be on the traditional hunting grounds of the Cheyenne. They do not tolerate other tribes, let alone white men, coming onto the land they consider theirs. Not far beyond them is the Arapaho and Comanche. You may be safer living where you only must fight those who wish to make slaves of others.”
Charlie held his ground as the three men studied him. The old man spoke next. “Are you from this Cheyenne tribe you spoke of?”
Charlie shook his head. “No. I am Kansa. Our people have made treaties with the Americans, treaties many Americans do not follow.” Charlie swept his outstretched arm in a wide arc. “All the land you see outside of here once belonged to the Kansa. The Americans named the river and the territory for us, but took our land. They even steal the land we bought so our women do not have the land they need to farm. Every year, to find the buffalo we must hunt to survive, we must travel farther west. Unlike the Kansa, not all tribes have given up their land to go to reservations where the white men continue take what they want. You will put your families at risk if you build your farms too far to the west. Even the Kansa must watch for attacks by the Cheyenne when we hunt for buffalo.”
Charlie glanced at his father, and then he stepped back. “I will wait while you buy your supplies.”
After the three men left, Owen, shaking his head, came around the counter to join his son.
“Charlie, you haven’t changed. I’m not sure that was the most diplomatic thing you could have told those men, but they can’t claim later you didn’t warn them.”
Alone with his father, Charlie allowed the resent he felt show on his face and the anger within him coat his words. “Men like these who were here today, they will ruin the land of the Kansa. They will not be satisfied until they take everything away from all the tribes and destroy us.”
Owen nodded in agreement. “Charlie, I also do not like everything I see going on. I also wish things were still as they once were when the Kansa freely used this land and there were few white men to interfere. But if there is one thing I have learned, it is the world does not stand still. It has changed from how things were before either you or I were born, and it will continue to change. All we can do is decide how to face those changes.”
Charlie shook his head. “The Americans should stay east of the Missouri River.”
“Charlie, they won’t, just like they did not stay east of the Appalachia Mountains when that was promised as only Indian territory. There are too many Americans, and most of them want land. You might as well try to hold back the great Missouri and Kansas Rivers and force them to flow back upstream as to stop the coming of the Americans. There is nothing you can do to stop them from coming. All you can do is decide how you will take care of your family and the Kansa people so they are not swallowed up and become no more.”
Rejecting his father’s words, Charlie pursed his lips and looked away.
Owen continued speaking. “Now, the men you saw in my store today? They are typical of the men who will come—good and bad. The man I threw out of here will bring nothing but trouble to this land. What you need to recognize, Charlie, is the three others who were here, even if they do not see the world the same way you do, they are good men. They are family men who only want to work and build good homes for their wives and children. They probably know little, if anything, of what was taken from the Kaw or the other tribes in order for the government to be able to offer them land in Kansas Territory. They believe they have the right to come here because the American government told then they did, just as the Kaw believe they should have the right to the land. For every man like that you try to drive out, there will be hundreds more coming to take their place. You will be better off befriending them. There may be a time, in order to stop those who would destroy the Kaw, you may need to call on that friendship. Someday, that may be what you will need to help the tribe survive.”
Charlie looked off to the side. “I will think on your words, Father. For now, I am not ready to accept the Americans coming here.”
“I know. Let’s pick out what you can take back with you to soften old Spotted Horse so he will let you marry his daughter.” Owen turned to his shelves lined with goods, but quickly turned back. “Charlie, you’re a warrior now. I know it is customary to give a warrior a new name. What is it?”
“The Kansa may have given me a new name, but I cannot escape the color of eyes you gave me. I am now Gray-cloud-speaks-thunder.”
His mouth agape, Owen stared at his son, then he burst out laughing. “Thunder? As in the thunder that calls people to their death? May I assume you speak your mind just as freely among the Kansa as you do with me?”
Charlie grinned. “It is as you say, Father. The leading men hope since I read and write English, I will help them speak thunder to the government men next time they try to steal from us.” Charlie grew serious. “Father, I do not wish to dishonor you, but I no longer choose to be called by my American name. I will no longer go by Charles Jones. I have decided that among the whites, I will be called Charlie Gray Cloud.” Charlie turned to stare at the wall without seeing, a note of wistfulness in his voice. “With all the Americans coming west, it will be better for my brothers if not too many know we are family.”
An expression of regret flickered across Owen’s face. “It’s not what I want, Charlie, or your brothers, either. However, if that is your decision, I understand. Just remember, you will always be my son and part of this family, even though you choose to live among your mother’s people. Now, let’s choose your gifts and then go home to see your brothers and let Amos know you will join him next spring on the Santa Fe Trail.”
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Chapter 10
~o0o~
Hard Chief’s Camp, Council Grove, Kansa Reservation
Kansas Territory
August, 1856
M eadowlark, the water skin she used to bring water to the lodge in her hand, realized by the way Chases Quail walked directly towards her with an intent expression on her face, her aunt wished to speak with her. She changed direction and walked towards her. She hoped by meeting the older woman quickly she could prevent Chases Quail from blurting out at the top of her voice something that might embarrass her. Meadowlark joined her aunt at the edge of the trees lining the creek.
“He is here, Meadowlark. I thought you should know in case you have an interest in him.”
Meadowlark tried to ignore the amused look in her aunt’s eyes. The image of Gray-cloud-speaks-thunder’s countenance popped in Meadowlark’s mind. However, not wishing to be the subject of gossip if she could avoid it, she dared not give Chases Quail any indication she suspected of whom her aunt spoke. Instead, her face void of expression, she waited for the woman to continue.
“His cousin, Eyes-like-hawk, has been speaking with some of the men—swapping hunting storie
s and bragging—you know how men talk. However, Gray-cloud-speaks-thunder has wandered off. Perhaps he wishes to speak to someone somewhere else.”
Meadowlark wondered what her aunt hinted at. Did Chases Quail think Gray-cloud-speaks-thunder wishes to speak to her? Whether he did or did not, she wished to see him again.
“I need to fill the water bag for the lodge. Then I need to search for some herbs to season our evening meal. I do not know how far I must go to find what I look for.”
Chases Quail pointed towards the dense brush to the southwest. Meadowlark’s gaze turned in the direction her aunt pointed, but she saw no one. She turned back, a question her expression. The older woman smiled knowingly and nodded.
“When you search for your herbs, try over there. I saw something tasty that direction.”
Meadowlark filled her water bag and returned it to the lodge. When she stepped out of the building with her herb-gathering pouch over her shoulder, she saw no one close by, including Chases Quail. Her aunt may be a gossip, but she had never been malicious towards Meadowlark. Still, considering her aunt’s tendency to talk, Meadowlark decided to take no chances. She walked due south towards an area known for finding herbs. Only when she knew the vegetation screened her from being seen by those in the village did she turn east and walk towards the area her aunt had pointed out to her.
Once she entered the deep brush choking the few trees that grew and saw little on the ground that looked promising, Meadowlark began to regret following her aunt’s suggestion to search in that location. She continued to push branches aside and step over deadfall in hopes that she might be rewarded by coming upon an opening filled with herbs.
