by Tim Washburn
A short while later, Isaac came slinking back to camp and sat down on the other side of the fire. Percy didn’t say anything, not wanting to start another argument.
“How is she?” Isaac finally asked.
“’Bout the same. Where’s Luis?”
“Playin’ cards with some of the army boys.”
And that was the extent of their conversation. Percy had built the fire a few feet away from the Indian lodge and had cut the guards loose. He had some concerns about the Indians’ sneaking back to steal Emma away again though he didn’t believe it would happen until after the baby was born. She wasn’t in any shape to go anywhere at the moment and probably wouldn’t be for a few days, giving them a short reprieve from Indian worries. But after that all bets were off and they would have to remain diligent on the trip home.
Reaching behind him, he adjusted the placement of his saddle and leaned back against it, kicking his legs out. He listened to the murmuring coming from inside the teepee in between contractions and Miller must have said something funny because he heard Emma laugh. It was a pleasant sound to hear after worrying about her for so long. Percy had no doubt that her adjustment back to life among the family would be difficult and having a baby along would make it doubly hard. Every time she looked at the child she’d be reminded of her life in captivity and Percy knew that either resentment would build to unacceptable levels requiring some type of intervention or her memories would fade with time.
“Why’d they have to do that to my Emma?” Isaac finally said in a low voice so she wouldn’t hear.
“Different cultures,” Percy said.
“What’s that mean?”
“What’s right in one may be wrong in another.”
“I’m still not gettin’ your point,” Isaac said.
“Okay, take dogs, for instance. The Indians don’t have a problem eatin’ a dog if they’re hungry, but where we live, we wouldn’t eat a dog if we were on the verge of starvin’ to death.”
“What’s dogs got to do with what I’m talkin’ about?”
Percy sighed, wondering what his sister had ever seen in the man sitting across the fire.
He liked Isaac, but Percy thought he lacked the curiosity needed to learn new things. For Percy, just getting by or doing things a certain way because it was the way it had always been done was unacceptable. Returning to the point he was trying to make, he spent a few moments thinking how to distill it into the most basic terms. “Let’s do it this way, then,” Percy said. “Do you walk up to every woman you meet and grab her by the hand and say Let’s go into the bedroom?”
“Course not,” Isaac said.
“Why?”
“’Cause it ain’t right.”
“Exactly,” Percy said. “In our culture that kind of thing isn’t acceptable. And that’s only because we’ve been told that, or we learned it wasn’t the right thing to do. Now, let’s say the people in, I don’t know, say, Arkansas. Let’s say all the people in Arkansas have always done it that way and didn’t know any different. Do you believe they would think what they were doing was wrong?”
“Well, when you put it like that, most likely not.”
“Why?”
“’Cause that’s all they know.” Isaac thought about it a little more then said, “So the Indians didn’t think what they was doin’ was wrong ’cause that’s the way they always done it?”
“Yes. What they did to Emma was unacceptable to us, but normal for them.”
“I get it. Still rips my guts out, though.”
“I understand. But, Isaac, you can’t undo what’s already been done. All you can do is accept it and move on.”
Dr. Miller stuck his head out and said, “Percy, I could use that water now and I could also use an extra set of hands.”
Percy and Isaac exchanged looks. “I can’t do it, Percy. I can pull calves all day, but I can’t do that.”
Percy used a balled-up rag to pull the pot of water off the fire and carried it inside. It took Emma another hour to get the baby out and when she did, Dr. Miller did what he needed to do and placed the squealing baby boy on her chest. Percy knew this was the make-or-break moment. She’d either look at the child and talk to it or shun it outright. Percy held his breath and after a few seconds of staring at the thing on her chest, Emma picked the baby up and snuggled him to her cheek.
“I have some more to do, Percy, but thank you.”
“No, thank you, Doc.” Percy stepped out into the night. He looked at Isaac, who was still sitting by the fire, and knew his brother-in-law would simmer on low boil for a while yet. “It’s a boy.”
Isaac nodded. “Emma okay?”
“She’s just fine.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The first round of thanks goes to you, the readers. Thank you for taking some time out of your busy lives to read. I’m also a voracious reader and I believe books are the stabilizing foundation to a much gentler society, something we’re in desperate need of. Feel free to contact me at timwashburnbooks.com.
Thanks to my terrific editor and friend, Gary Goldstein. Thanks, Gary, for your guidance, the great conversations, and for the dinners and adult beverages we’ve shared.
A special shout-out to Doug Grad of the Doug Grad Literary Agency. Thanks for everything, Doug.
Thanks, Marc Cameron, for the great blurbs. If you haven’t read any of Marc’s work, I highly recommend it! You can’t go wrong with any of his material.
Thank you, Steven Zacharius, for giving us a place that writers can call home. Thanks, Lou Malcangi, for another amazing cover. I’m eternally grateful to all those who work at Kensington, including: Elizabeth (Liz) May, Lynn Cully, Lulu Martinez, Vida Engstrand, Kimberly Richardson, Lauren Jernigan, and Alexandra Nicolajsen. Welcome to the team, James Akinaka! You’ve already done some outstanding work.
A special thanks to two people who have made me a much better writer—my production editor, Arthur Maisel, and my copy editor, Randie Lipkin. You two are superstars.
Thanks to those who hold a special place in my heart: Kelsey, Andrew, Camdyn, and Graham Snider, Nickolas Washburn, and Karley Washburn. I love you all very, very much. Graham is a recent arrival and his name is on the dedication page—Welcome to the world, young man!
Also on the dedication page is Isabelle Kathleen Chandler, a recent arrival for my niece Andrea Chandler and her husband, Deke.
Thanks to my parents, Loren and Frances Washburn, and my brother and his wife, Daniel and Nancy Washburn. Daniel is tasked with driving my parents to book signings and I can’t thank you enough.
And lastly, to the woman who decided to share her life with me, Tonya. I love you forever and always.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
TIM WASHBURN graduated from the University of Oklahoma with a BA in journalism and currently lives in Edmond, Oklahoma.
