by Tim Washburn
What Quanah didn’t know—couldn’t even fathom—was that the upcoming camp move would be their last of their own choosing.
CHAPTER 61
Percy and the crew had spent three more weeks searching for Emma with no luck. Then the weather had turned colder, and the north wind howled, forcing them to make a decision none wanted to make. With no winter gear and everyone shivering, Percy had called a halt to the search and they rode for home. The trip home had been long and uneventful and by the time they got to their present location, a day’s ride from home, they’d been gone almost four months.
As they stirred from sleep, they went about their duties of saddling horses and hitching the team to the wagon in silence. They were all looking forward to a warm bed and their first cup of hot coffee in nearly two months. Percy put his foot in the stirrup and climbed aboard Mouse for the final stretch. He had debated about riding on ahead but decided that wouldn’t be fair to the rest of the men. And a small part of him wasn’t eager to break the news of his father’s death and that had made the decision a little easier. However, he was eager to see his family with just a tad bit of apprehension about settling back into life with Mary and all the problems her illness presented.
Everyone was exhausted although they weren’t so tired that they let their guard down. They all understood that they were still riding through Indian country and would be until they set foot on Rocking R property. Wilcox was hanging behind, keeping an eye on their back trail, and Win was ranging ahead a bit to make sure their path was clear. The last thing anyone wanted at this point was to run into an Indian war party. Percy elected to hang close in case they ran into trouble and he had to spring into action. Luis was driving the wagon and Isaac was riding shotgun, their horses hitched to the back of the wagon next to Arturo’s, Amos’s, and Snowball, his father’s horse.
They were a silent group, everyone talked out from their long days of travel. And though they were miles and miles away from where they had been searching for Emma, the disappointment they all felt was still palpable. In fact, as they rode along, Percy was already thinking of next steps. He was planning to rest up for a day or two and then head north to Fort Sill to get the lay of the land. If the army was planning a spring campaign against the Indians, then he aimed to be a part of it. If his old friend was still in command, he didn’t think it would be a problem and, if not, he would have to do some finagling. Not going was not an option. And if the army wasn’t planning any action, Percy was going to mount another search and, this time, he was going to take his father’s advice and hire the damn best Indian scouts he could find.
The timing was the biggest question for Percy. A search during the winter months would be difficult and cold, but it could also work to their advantage. It was common knowledge that the Indians were known to hunker down during the winters and that might make them easier to find. Waiting until spring presented another set of problems. With the spring rains, trails would be harder to follow, and the swollen rivers would be dicey to cross. The ideal time would be summer again, but that would mean Emma would have been held captive for almost a full year, an unthinkable proposition for Percy. The more he thought about the situation he realized he needed to find out the army’s plans before he could make any decisions. So that would be step one in his plan.
By late afternoon they were within sight of ranch land and Percy’s apprehension began to build. His mother was going to take the news hard and there was no way to soften the blow. Normally even-tempered and calm, Percy didn’t know how she would respond to the news that her husband was gone. If that had been the only thing worrying Percy it would have been manageable. But he was deeply concerned about Abigail’s reaction when they arrived home without her daughter. Calm and even-tempered weren’t the words he’d use to describe either of his sisters and there was no way to predict what Abby’s response would be. Her reaction could run the gamut from extreme anger to extreme disappointment and either one would cut Percy to the bone. As he was thinking about that, a new worry wormed its way into his brain—and that was Amos. He was going to have to tell his other sister that her husband was dead. And he truly didn’t know what her reaction would be. The more he thought about it the more he realized he needed to talk to his mother first before Abby and Rachel discovered they were back. And the only way that would happen was to get there before the wagon rolled into the yard.
Percy nudged his horse toward the wagon and rode beside Isaac and said, “Grab your horse and we’ll ride ahead. We need to talk to my mother first and then Abby.”
“Not sure I want to,” Isaac said. “Abby’s likely to skin me alive for comin’ home without Emma.”
“Well,” Percy said, “she’s liable to do the same with me and she’s your wife.”
“Yeah, but she’s your sister,” Isaac said. “Might be better if she was to hear it from blood kin.”
“So, you don’t want to ride ahead?” Percy asked, his voice tinged with anger.
“Not really,” Isaac said. “Why you got a burr under your saddle to ride ahead? Way I see it, the more people around when Abby finds out, the better.”
Percy muttered a string of curse words under his breath. “You’re really not goin’ with me?”
“No, I ain’t, Percy. If you think you need to ride ahead and tell her, then go on.”
Percy couldn’t see how it would work out the way he wanted it to without talking to his mother first. “I will,” Percy said before spurring his horse into a gallop. Isaac’s refusal to ride along angered him but didn’t really surprise him. There was no doubt who wore the pants in that family. Percy knew Mouse was also exhausted, but he didn’t have far to ride. A short while later he came to the road that led up to the houses and he slowed his horse to a walk. Holding Mouse to the side of the road, he used the main house as a shield for his approach. He was hoping Abby wasn’t outside and spotted him first because he really needed to talk to his mother and, if she wasn’t too devastated, enlist her help in dealing with his sisters.
He rode up to the main house and climbed down from his horse. He heard the squeal of the front door and turned to see his mother walking out on the porch. Taking off his hat, he climbed up the steps and wrapped his arms around his mother. Finally breaking the embrace, he stepped back. Frances leaned sideways to look around him and said, “Where’s your father?”
Percy took his mother by the hand and led her over to the rocking chairs. “You better sit down, Ma.”
Frances stood and stared at her son for a long time and then sagged onto the rocker. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”
Percy nodded.
“Was he killed by Indians?”
“No. He died peacefully.” Percy took a seat in the rocker next to his mother. “I don’t know what was wrong with him, but he was rubbing his chest a lot.”
His mother nodded as tears began running down her cheeks. She stared at something in the distance for a long few moments and Percy held her hand as they sat in silence. Eventually, she pulled her hand free and wiped her eyes. “And Emma?”
“Couldn’t find her, Ma. We searched and searched and never caught a glimpse of her.”
“Abby will be devastated.”
“I know. We ran out of supplies and the weather turned. I’m going to hire some Indian scouts up at Fort Sill and go back.”
“Your father knew it would be a tall task,” Frances said, her voice flat. “You need to rest up before you do anything.”
“I’m afraid I’ve got more bad news, Ma. We lost Amos, too. He fell against the wagon one night and hit his head.”
“I truly don’t know how Rachel will react to that,” Frances said. “We’ve had an interesting time.” She took a moment to absorb all the news then reached out and took Percy’s hand. “I’ve got some bad news, too.”
Percy looked at her and said, “Mary?”
“Yes. She died shortly after you left.”
Percy nodded. “How are the kids?”
“They
’re okay. Amanda went through a period of guilt but she’s coming around.”
“Guilt because I told her to give Mary all the laudanum she wanted?”
“Yes. But you did the right thing, Percy.”
“I know, but I should have been the one doing it instead of dumping it on Amanda.”
“It makes no difference. The result was the same. And Mary was suffering terribly.”
Percy looked up to see the wagon turning up the road and sighed.
“Where did you bury your father?”
“Under a large oak tree by a river.”
“He’d like that.”
Percy pushed out of the chair and stood. “I guess I better go talk to Abby and Rachel.”
Frances stood. “I’m going with you.”
“Are you sure you’re up for it?” Percy asked.
His mother thought about that for a moment, then said, “No. But what choice do we have? All we can do is carry on.”
Percy and Frances stepped off the porch and walked around the house. Abby must have heard the wagon coming because she came barreling out of the house.
* * *
Abby, her heart racing a mile a minute, looked up to see Percy and her mother walking toward her and she knew in an instant that Emma was still gone. It felt like the breath had been knocked out of her and she had to grab the hitching post to keep from sagging to her knees. Her heart was still racing, but now for a much different reason. Thoughts bombarded her like a volley of bullets and then they crystallized instantly into anger. She charged toward Percy and her mother tried to grab her, but Abby shrugged her off, stuck out her arms, and hit Percy at full speed, knocking him backward.
“Why are you here?” Abby shouted, spittle flying in the air. She stalked toward Percy and began pummeling him with her fists. Percy took it for a moment then reached out and grabbed her and hugged her tight, pinning her arms to her sides. That left her feet free and she began kicking her brother in the shins and stomping on his feet, anything to make him feel pain.
Percy looped a leg around hers and drew her legs tight to his body.
“I’m sorry, sis,” Percy said.
“You’re damn right, you are,” Abby shouted as she used her forehead like a hammer and pounded Percy in the chest.
Percy squeezed her tighter, until there was no room to move her head and that made her angrier, but she was completely immobilized.
“I’m going back, Abby,” Percy said.
“You should have never left!” Abby shouted as she tried to squirm free.
“You’re right,” Percy said. “But we didn’t have much of a choice.”
“You had a choice,” Abby shouted. “And you made it, didn’t you?”
“I suppose you’re right. If you want to hit me, go ahead.” Percy freed her and stepped back, a pained look on his face.
Abby glared at her brother and balled her fists. She suddenly felt her mother’s arms encircling her waist and, in the blink of an eye her anger was gone, and she broke into sobs. She looked at her brother and said, “I didn’t mean . . . mean it . . . Percy.”
“I know you didn’t, Abby. I promise I’m going back to look for her.”
Abby nodded and her mother held her while she cried. Eventually, she regained a small measure of composure. “Where’s Isaac?”
“He’s comin’ with the wagon.”
“He didn’t want to ride in with you to tell me, did he?”
Percy decided not to answer.
Abby nodded at his nonanswer and allowed her mother to lead her up the porch steps and over to a chair as the war wagon rolled past on the way to the barn.
* * *
Percy felt like hell for letting his sister down and he was pissed at Isaac for not being part of the discussion. On the trip home he’d tried to think what they could have done different, but they’d done all they could.
He didn’t have the heart to tell Abby that their father was gone and hoped his mother would broach the subject when she calmed down. He glanced over at Rachel’s house and saw her stepping down from the porch. Percy walked up to her but stopped at a safe distance, having learned his lesson.
“I didn’t see Amos ride in,” Rachel said.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Percy said. “You want to sit down?”
“Amos is dead, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” Percy said. “Sure you don’t want to sit down?”
“How’d he die?” Rachel asked.
“Hit his head against the wagon one night.”
“Figures,” Rachel said. “I need to tell the kids.” She turned to go back inside, and Percy grabbed her by the arm to stop her.
“There’s more.”
“Okay,” Rachel said.
Percy stepped past Rachel and climbed up the porch steps. “You can stand if you want, but I’m gonna sit down.” He walked over to one of the chairs and sat.
Rachel sighed, walked over, and took a seat on the edge of the chair like she was in a hurry to get somewhere.
“You don’t seem too tore up about Amos,” Percy said.
“Is that what you wanted to talk about?” Rachel asked.
Her attitude irked Percy and he decided not to sugarcoat it. “No. Pa’s dead.”
Rachel sagged back against the chair as tears sprang to her eyes. She sat and cried for a few moments and then reached out to take Percy’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Percy.”
“It’s okay.”
“Was he . . . was he killed by Indians?”
“No,” Percy said. “He died peacefully.”
Rachel nodded and wiped her eyes. “I love you, Percy.”
“And I love you, Rachel.”
“I’m sorry about Mary.”
“Thank you. Are you okay?”
“Yes, but I need to go tell the kids about their father before they hear it from someone else.”
Percy leaned over and kissed his sister on the forehead and then pushed to his feet. “See you around, sis.”
He stepped down off the porch and headed toward his house, eager to hug his kids.
CHAPTER 62
After a week to rest up and to check on things around the ranch, Percy was now riding across the river, on his way to Fort Sill, thirty-five miles away. He was still struggling with the loss of his father and probably would be for the foreseeable future. His purpose for going to Fort Sill was twofold. The first was to discover the army’s plans for a campaign against Indians and the second was to see if he could work a deal with the Indian agent to sell the agency about two thousand head of Rocking R steers. The price per head he was hoping to get would be less than what he could have made at the railhead in Kansas, but it was much too late in the year to mount a cattle drive. And if he couldn’t work a deal there, he was planning on riding over to see if Montford T. Johnson wanted to buy some mama cows to increase the size of his herd. Either way, he needed to sell some cattle to stabilize the ranch’s shaky financial situation.
The problem with both schemes was that the buyer would be forced to overwinter the cattle and that would eat into the prices he was hoping to get. None of it was ideal, but it was what it was. And if he couldn’t work a deal to sell some cattle, he’d have to explore the possibilities of selling some land, something he didn’t really want to do. If he could hold on until the Indians were forced back onto the reservation, he knew land prices in the area would skyrocket. A thousand acres today might be worth a dollar an acre, but once the Indian problem was finally solved, Percy thought land prices might balloon to ten dollars an acre or more. Hence, his reticence to part with any land.
Tired of thinking about finances, Percy let his mind drift to his children. Franklin and Amanda were coping well with the death of their mother, but he couldn’t say the same for Chauncey. Something seemed off about the boy, and he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. He would have to keep an eye on both him and Seth, who, in addition to being roughed up and branded, was now deal
ing with the loss of his father, Amos. Percy hadn’t yet put a stop to their frequent trips to the river to shoot because he remembered what life was like at that age. They were a long way from any neighbors, and the boys needed an outlet other than constant work. Before Mary’s illness, she had taken up the mantle of teacher and had schooled all the children on the ranch and that had helped to keep Chauncey and Seth occupied. Now with her gone, the boys had too much free time, and Percy knew that could lead to all sorts of mischief. He made a mental note to talk to the Indian agent at the post to see if he had any leads on a teacher that would be willing to work for room and board. If not, he was going to have to find the means to pay for one. He was a big believer in education and had even contemplated going to college back East, much like Eli did later. Instead, he’d wandered through south Texas and wound up with the Rangers, which was an entirely different education altogether. So, finding a teacher was a must and he added it to a to-do list that was growing longer every day.
Percy had not met Amanda’s suitor yet, but he was coming over Thursday for Thanksgiving. Percy was ambivalent about the holiday that would be ten years old this year, but it was nice to spend the day with family and enjoy some good food. With the loss of Cyrus, Amos, and Arturo it would no doubt be a somber day although Percy thought a day to reflect on their lives would be healing for all involved.
Percy spotted an Indian encampment ahead and adjusted his course to steer around it. If he had an interpreter, he’d stop and ask them about Emma’s whereabouts and that thought spurred an idea to do just that. He would hire an interpreter at the post and spend a couple of days interviewing the Indians who were scattered around the reservation. If he could find a Comanche or a Kiowa who had traveled with Quanah Parker, he might get some insight into his group’s movements. But then he wondered how willing those Indians would be to pass on factual information under the eye of their fellow tribe members. Would they talk more freely if Percy offered a pot sweetener like coffee and sugar or something else the Indians coveted? He decided the one person who could answer that question was his old friend Lieutenant Colonel John Davidson.
