Her eyes narrow. “Think I don’t know that? Don’t ya think I might need some money, or did you just expect me to sell myself to pay for it all?”
John takes a deep breath, carefully considering his words. “If you want to ask for money, you’ll have to ask directly. I don’t mind giving it to you, but I need to know what it is you’re asking for.” He reaches inside his vest and removes the remaining eighty dollars from his wallet and slides it across the table to her. “I don’t know how long you’re gonna be gone, so make sure to get yourselves some food as well.” He thinks a moment. “After your trip yesterday, do you think this will be enough to get you everything you need, or do you think you’ll need more money?”
She looks at the money for a moment, then in a barely audible voice, asks, “Why are you doing this?”
Without missing a beat, John says, “Don’t ask. Just know that I’m not trying to buy your affection and just leave it at that.”
She mutters, “Don’t I KNOW it,” then sighs. “Alright. This should be enough, at least for now. I can always send David to get more from you, right?”
John nods. “Without any difficulty. Just try to save some for later. I get the feeling we’re gonna need it.”
Her eyebrows raise, but she apparently chooses not to ask.
Joey glances at the clock and says, “This might be a good time for us to go. It takes about a half hour to get there on foot.”
The marshals rise and head out from the hotel into the blazing sun. On their way over to Logan’s house, Jake can’t help it. He asks John the secret of interacting with Liz and not getting so blindly stupid.
“I wasn’t looking directly at her, and tried to keep acting like I was talking to one of you. That seemed to have worked out nicely, if I do say so myself.”
It’s his tone of pride that makes Josh laugh good-naturedly.
It’s just a few minutes before ten, that the marshals ring the bell by the door to Judge Logan’s house.
Goerg answers and ushers the marshals into the dining room, where there are three different stations set up for writing.
As the tall butler is leaving, Josh stops him and asks what part of Germany he’s from.
While his tone is somewhat short, the gigantic man answers with a wide smile on his face, “Salzburg, Austria-Hungary.”
Josh nods and thanks the man as he turns and leaves.
Already seated in the best position to cover all the exits, John shakes his head and asks, “What was all that about?”
“I get the feeling I’m going to be coming over here as often as I can. I figure it’s best that I’m on friendly terms with all the staff.”
John chuckles and shakes his head as he turns to the task at hand.
Josh seats himself at the table and sets to getting done what is needed. It’s amazing how time goes by slowly, when you’re sensitive to its passage. When you’re concentrating on something else, however, time seems to fly by on the wings of a falcon. When Josh sits down to start working on his report, it’s just a few minutes after ten of the clock. By the time he gets to talking about how things went the first time the group made it into the Cherokee encampment and five pages of hand-written text later, he’s being told to get out of the way for lunch.
He looks at the clock and is more than a little shocked to see that it’s a few minutes before one.
Sarah Two-Shoes takes him to the corner of the dining room and informs him that the entire household will be eating lunch together, so he’d best be on his best behavior around Fawn.
She informs him that “the poor girl was up more than half the night weeping and talking nonsense.” She goes on to tell him, “If you cause her to do that again, I’ll personally horse-whip you into the street and keep you from ever seeing her again.”
Now, more than thoroughly cowed, Josh promises he will be the model of courtesy to her, that indeed, “I want nothing more than to be there, in case she needs me.” He does mention, however, “I DO need to talk to her about her people’s customs. I’m about to be working directly with them and anything I can get to help smooth the way will help both me and her people immensely.”
She stabs her index finger in his face and warns, “I’ll be watching you. If you so much as make ONE step out of line . . .” She shakes her head. “I don’t care WHO you are, if you hurt that precious girl, may God have mercy on your miserable soul. God knows, I won’t.”
Josh nods and says, “I would expect nothing less.”
Sarah Two-Shoes sighs and says, “I’ll see if she’ll be willing. Respect her choice, if she says no.”
Josh nods and all he can say in response, is simply, “Yes, ma’am.”
Apparently satisfied in his response, she moves on to see to lunch.
Once again, he’s reminded that this may be a man’s world, but this is a woman’s household. Oh, Judge Logan may pay for everything, but it’s Sarah that makes everything run smoothly.
It’s only a few minutes after one o’clock, that the food is on the table, the half dozen servants are arranged around the table, the marshals are seated close to Judge Logan at the head of the table. He spreads his arms out, palms up and prays a blessing on the meal.
Once he’s done, everyone echoes his “Amen” and are seated.
Over the clattering and chinking of dishes, Judge Logan asks how the reports are coming along. Before anyone answers, however, Sarah Two-Shoes clears her throat and Judge Logan laughs.
“She hates it when I talk shop at the table,” he explains. “Sometimes, she mothers me almost as much as my wife did, God rest her soul.”
John nods and says quietly, “Thankfully, there are women out there willing to look out for us confirmed bachelors like that.”
This occasions a bark of laughter from Josh, who says, “If you’re not married by the end of the year, I’ll be surprised.”
Logan looks at John and asks, “Doc Bakker’s mother?”
John nods. “Yeah, but she stepped away from the faith.” He shakes his head. “I’m not gonna make a move ‘til I know otherwise.”
Josh snorts derisively. “As if you had a choice.”
John gives his brother a look filled with daggers. “And look who’s talking?”
Judge Logan laughs lightly. “Gentlemen, if you can’t be civil, I’ll send you back to your rooms without any supper.”
Josh laughs. “I thought you were wanting these reports done as soon as possible.”
Logan’s eyes lower in annoyance. “That is ENOUGH, Marshal Jacobs.”
“Yes, your honor.”
Joey looks at the judge. “When was the last time you heard from Pa?”
“About four days ago, actually. He’d sent a letter, explaining his continued absence. I’m glad he’s doing well, though, that was quite the scare.”
She nods. “I just hope Heart-of-Falcon is taking really good care of him. It almost killed me, having to leave him behind, like that.”
Logan gives her a look of compassion. “It’s always thus. I know, every time I leave Jason, I have to fight to keep from ordering him out of the Army.”
Joey thinks a moment. “Would I be able to see the letter?”
“Of course, but it will have to wait until after reporting is done. First thing’s first.”
“Naturally.”
The rest of lunch proceeds as one might expect, respectful, quiet conversation. No major discussions being held, just simple enjoyment of each other’s company while consuming nourishment.
At the conclusion of lunch, once the table has been cleared and Josh is able to get a free moment to speak to Fawn, he flags her down and asks, “Once I’m done with this report, might I be able to ask you some questions about your people?”
She looks around for an avenue of escape, but seems unable to be willing to just run away. “Why you want to know about my people?” Her voice is very suspicious.
“I’m being assigned a territory that borders their lands.”
“And you would like
any leg up on them you can get, is that it?” she interrupts.
He shakes his head. “Not at all. In fact, the more courtesy I can show them without offense, the more smoothly I can grease the wheels of diplomacy, when I’m in contact with them.”
“So you can manipulate them?”
“So I can help them. My own tribe is having trouble too, you know.”
Her eyes go wide and she whispers in her native tongue, “You’re one of the humans?”
In flawless Cheyenne he says, “I am Cherokee, from the Clan of the Night Owl.”
She gasps and looks down at the floor. “If you know my tongue, why don’t you know our customs? “
Still speaking in Cheyenne, he says quietly, “I was one of the horse masters at Fort Reno for more than ten years. I worked with many scouts from your tribe and made sure I learned their language. I just didn’t get much chance to work with them enough to learn many of the customs.”
She looks at him with a level gaze. “Ask for me after you’re done and are ready to talk.” She turns and starts to leave, but stops when Josh says, “Thank you,” in her native language. She looks over her shoulder, gives him the ghost of a smile and nods, before walking away.
Once she’s out of the room, John approaches his brother, grinning widely. “Baby steps are still steps. Congratulations, brother. You’re now talking.” He slaps his hand down on Josh’s shoulder companionably and starts whistling tunelessly as he finds his writing apparatus and his seat.
Josh goes over to the coffee service, pours himself a cup, then gets himself set back up with working on his report.
He’s so excited about being able to talk to Fawn, he’s having troubles concentrating on the task at hand. His mind keeps wandering all over the place. The smile she gave him lifted his heart so much, all he can think of is he wants to keep seeing that, from now on. His mind is acting as if he were a moon-struck schoolboy that just has no clue about life.
What would normally take him an hour or so to write, now takes more than two. Finally, however, three hours after lunch is over with, Josh puts his quill down and blots the page.
Feeling more accomplished than he has in a while, he leans back in his chair, takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out.
John looks at him with an amused expression. “Trouble?” he asks.
Josh cocks his head. “Why?”
John motions toward Joey’s empty chair. “We’ve both been done more than an hour now.”
Josh sighs. “I guess I am. Oh well. Think the judge will be willing to loan me his map of the ‘nations?”
John nods. “As long as you don’t do anything to it. Go ahead and ask him, find out for sure.”
Josh sighs and shakes his head. That’s not what he was hoping to hear. “Would you mind asking him for me? That, a pencil and some paper as well, please?”
John looks at him, assessing his brother for a moment. His look goes flat and he sighs. “Sure, why not? You’re gonna owe me a favor, though.”
Josh nods and says, “Thanks. If you could, please take them to the den. I’d like to have our discussion be in the quiet and uninterrupted.”
John smirks sardonically. “Is there anything else you would like, oh great one?”
Josh smiles. “Something to drink would be nice.”
“Oh shut up and get out of here!”
Josh laughs as he goes in search of his beautiful tutor. He just hopes he doesn’t get as stupid as John does when he’s dealing with Liz.
It takes Josh less than a minute to find Fawn. Accidentally bumping into her on the way to the kitchens, he profusely apologizes and asks if she is willing to have that chat she promised earlier.
“Yes, but we have to ask Sarah’s permission first. I can’t have her thinking I’m shirking my duties or anything.”
Josh agrees and follows her into the kitchen. Before either of them asks, Sarah takes one look at the pair and waves them on, without a question.
As they walk to the den, Josh is making absolutely sure to stay a respectful distance away from the gorgeous Cheyenne woman, though in the depths of his being, he aches to touch her, to wrap her in his arms.
When they get in the den, using the secondary entrance, they see John standing there, waiting on them. In one hand, he has the rolled-up map, in the other, pencil and several loose leaf sheets of paper. He takes one look at the pair and makes a show of placing them onto the card table not far from the window to the west and beats a hasty exit.
Josh waves his thanks to his brother and holds out the chair for Fawn. Once they’re seated across the table from each other, Josh starts asking simple questions about everyday life in the tribe.
He’s surprised to find out that, while her father was an Indian Scout, she and her mother spent very little time among the tribe itself.
While Fawn was a young girl, her mother insisted they follow many of the traditions they saw the whites performing while they were in town.
Josh is more than a little disappointed in her lack of knowledge in her traditional tribal customs, but does his best not to let it show. However, he’s still fascinated by the young woman’s conversation.
Finally, after more than an hour of discussion and note-taking, he unrolls the map on the table and asks her where her people’s main camp is, so he can go there and talk with the chief.
She says she doesn’t know, since her people are normally nomadic, but that they should be around in “this area” pointing toward the Canadian River, along the border of the Arapaho lands.
He turns the map to see the area she pointed at a little better and their hands unintentionally brush up against each other.
She yanks her hand back, clutching it to her chest.
He holds up his hand and says in as serious a tone as he can, “I didn’t intend to do that. I apologize. Forgive me?”
She gasps and stares at his face. Tears fill her eyes as she gulps. “Y—yes. I forgive you?” she asks in a tiny voice.
Josh nods, doing his best to avoid looking her in the eye. “I promise I’ll do my best not to touch you, ever, unless you ask me to, okay?”
A single tear courses down her cheek as she nods.
Josh clears his throat and asks gently, “Where did you spend most of your childhood?”
She points to just outside of the lands claimed by Fort Reno, close to Fort Cobb.
“If you don’t mind me asking, why did your father quit the Army?”
She gulps, takes a deep breath and says shakily, “He got hurt one day, then they told him he couldn’t be a scout anymore.”
Josh nods. That was common. Indian Scouts that got hurt most often got fired. Generally, the position was a highly coveted one and the scouts were considered by the Army to be expendable. “I’m sorry to hear that. I think that will be all for now, if you don’t want to continue talking.”
She stares at him for several moments, before gulping once more and saying, “Thank you. Other than the judge, you’re the first white man to talk to me respectfully as a person, not as a . . . slave or a servant.”
Josh looks away, unable to meet her gaze. He’s so afraid she’s going to see his desire to comfort her, he misses the look of pain that flashes across her face.
“I—I’m glad you’re not mistaking this as any kind of an overture. That, this is nothing more than just a conversation.”
Now, several tears course down her cheeks. Her breath catches. “I need to go see about supper.” Without waiting for a response, she stands up, wipes her eyes, then strides quickly from the room.
To keep from giving in to the desire to follow her and beg her forgiveness for any offense he may have given, he stands and walks over to the south window, to stare out at the heavily populated street in the evening gloom. He berates himself over and over again. He’s certain he’s not worthy of any woman’s attention.
It’s several minutes before he hears the swishing of a skirt come from right behind him. Without turning around, he says qui
etly, “I’m sorry if I offended you.”
Sarah’s voice is sharp as broken glass as she says, “Don’t apologize to me. It’s Fawn you hurt. She’s in the laundry room, crying because she disgusts you.”
Josh’s eyes widen in shock as he spins around to confront the old Cherokee women. “I NEVER said that! If anything, it’s quite the opposite. I was trying to stay respectful of her! I had to fight with everything I am to keep from touching her, to comfort her.”
Sarah searches his face closely for a few moments, looking for any signs of duplicity, then nods more to herself than him. “That’s what I thought. Do you mean what you say?” He nods and she sighs. “Alright. I’ll tell you what. Stay here, I’ll go talk to her and then will bring you some supper.” She turns and begins to leave, but stops to look at him out of the corner of her eye. “If I find out you’re lying to me . . .” With her warning hanging over his head, she continues on about her way.
Josh paces quickly around the room, filled with a nervous energy. Finally, after several minutes, he decides to do what he should have thought of at first.
He kneels, spreads his hands out to the side, closes his eyes, lifts his face to the heavens, and begins to pray. “God. I am calling out to You as a broken man. I know I’ve committed more crimes against You than there are grains of sand in the desert. I pray You forgive me all my transgressions. I don’t know Your plans or Your purpose for my life.”
He gulps and takes a deep breath. “I pray that if I offended Fawn, that You open her eyes and heart to see I meant only to respect her as a woman, as a beautiful soul, shining in Your presence. I pray You let me see her through Your eyes and You allow her to see me in the same way. I pray that You guide my hands in showing her the truth of Your love. I want her to experience Your love and light in these dark times. These things in Your son’s name I pray, Amen.”
He feels a sense of peace and comfort flow through him, as he does every time he knows God has heard his prayer and answered it. He slowly rises to his feet and hears the clatter of several dishes being set down on the table. Without turning around, he says, “Thank you, Sarah.”
Fawn’s voice comes from behind him, “Did you truly mean that prayer, just now?”
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