Little Flower

by Jeanie P Johnson

  “I suppose to them, money is worth more than virtue,” Daisy shrugged.

  “You might be right,” Gordon agreed. “If I were you, I wouldn’t even mention what happened to you. Whoever marries you will just have to be satisfied to get a beautiful heiress. Apparently there are two men you already know who don’t care if you are a virgin or not. Maybe you are more bothered by it than perhaps they would be. I know if I loved a woman, and someone had forced her to give up her virtue, I would overlook the fact, since it wasn’t her wish to be with him. It wasn’t your fault, Daisy.”

  “But it has ruined everything for me. Every time my husband touched me, it would remind me. I don’t think I could get over it that easily.”

  “You will just have to try,” Gordon offered, even though he knew how she must feel.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Gray Wolf and his companions followed the Apache and his band through a narrow pass between two bluffs, which opened up to a sheltered canyon. He was surprised to discover there were at least two hundred and fifty renegade Indians camped there, waiting for their leader.

  “We will be going back to Arizona soon,” Victorio informed Gray Wolf. “We have unfinished business there. While the white soldiers look for us here, we will evade them and return to continue our revenge against the whites. If we cannot remain on our own land, we will not allow the whites to have it either!”

  “You know you will never chase them all out,” Gray Wolf reminded him.

  “Yes, I am aware of that. We have discovered it is a losing battle, but we are not the only ones rebelling against the whites. They took us from the reservation on land where we were raised and were promised we could live. When that happened, Geronimo took his followers into Mexico where they are safe, but they will not remain there long. Between us, we will become a thorn in the white man’s side until there are no more to take our place. They will know they have been outwitted by us, even if we end up losing everything. They will discover that when they break their word to us, there is a price to pay.”

  As the large group of warriors, looked on with interest, Victorio greeted his band. “Good news,” he smiled. “Our friends, here, have brought offerings to us. Gray Wolf, Sleepy Fox, and Spotted Coyote watched as Victorio and his friends began dividing up the supplies that were on their packhorse. If they managed to escape, they would have to rely on their hunting skills to survive, Gray Wolf realized.

  A fire was built, the chickens were killed. The rest of the antelope that had been left over from their kill was added to the supply of the food on the packhorse and combined with what the Apache’s had with them. The three sat at a distance, watching the renegades feasting, laughing, celebrating and drinking crazy water, they had gotten from somewhere, or perhaps made from cactus apples. As the night wore on they started whooping and chanting and shooting off their white man rifles preparing for whatever plans they had when they returned to Arizona.

  “When we get a chance, we will have to find a way to part ways with this bunch,” Gray Wolf frowned. “We have no reason to go to war in a campaign that has no promise of a good outcome.”

  “Maybe if they get drunk enough…” Spotted Coyote suggested, looking over his shoulder at the group that was getting more rowdy with each new swig of alcohol.

  “We will see. I notice that Victorio is not drinking the crazy water and he is keeping a close eye on us.” Gray Wolf grumbled.

  “They can’t keep an eye on us that close forever,” Sleepy Fox reasoned. “There are many braves here, it will be easy to get lost in the crowd and eventually, fall behind,” he said hopefully.

  “Just stick together, so when the time comes we will be prepared,” Gray Wolf cautioned. “They probably just wanted our food, if not our loyalty. They may end up killing us yet.” His friends nodded in agreement.

  The next morning, Gray Wolf noticed that many of the braves were still asleep; the crazy water had taken its toll on them. However, Victorio was rousting them up and insisting they get ready to leave, in spite of the complaints and somewhat groggy responses from those who just wanted to sleep it off.

  Gray Wolf took the lead on their empty packhorse, but Victorio approached him and removed the lead from his hand. “One of my brothers lost his mount. He is grateful for your contribution to his need,” Victorio said, giving Gray Wolf a look that discouraged any complaints, as he led the horse away.

  The three mounted their own horses, as the rest started to move out of the canyon’s narrow pass, Victorio in the lead, while they took up the rear, but one of the Apaches chose to follow behind, and Gray Wolf knew the Apache was making sure he and his friends remained with the renegade group.

  Now they were headed in the opposite direction from California, the red clay around them rising up in the air, creating a red cloud billowing up to mix in with the blue of the sky. Gray Wolf cursed the evil spirits that were trying to keep him from his true love. The Great Spirit had to be on his side, though, he reasoned. His vision had brought him here, so he was certain they would find a way out. It was just taking up more time. Time that may cause Little Flower to forget him and feel happy with her own family, refusing to return with him by the time he got there… if he ever got there! He tried to buoy his hope by remembering what his assigned grandfather had told him about love being able to overcome obstacles if believed in completely. He just had to keep faith, he told himself.

  For the rest of the day, the group traveled over barren terrain, heading east in the direction of Arizona. The sky was clear allowing the unrelenting sun to stream its heat down upon them, but the Apaches were used to the hot weather, and even Gray Wolf and his friends were used to the hot Dakoda summers even though summer had not started yet. It was still early spring, only in this stark country it felt like summer weather.

  They were just rounding an outcrop of jagged rock formations that shot up like towers out of nowhere, some creating arches, others balancing smaller rocks precariously on their peaks, when one of the Apache outriders, who was scouting ahead, came galloping back to them.

  “There are Bluecoats ahead,” he said, as his horse came to a skidding stop in front of Victorio.

  “How many?” Victorio asked, his eyebrows drawn with concern.

  “Not many, but they have a wagon carrying the same weapon that almost defeated Cochise when he was on the rampage and was going to ambush the white man’s army. It would have worked, if they hadn’t had that powerful weapon with them.”

  “We had better evade them then. If they come after us, we should all separate and meet again if we make it to Arizona in one piece. It takes time to set up that weapon, if they choose to use it, so we will be prepared, unlike Cochise, who had never seen a weapon like that before. It shoots heavy balls that explode in the sky, raining down pieces of steel that can hit many braves at once. The weapon is too heavy to pull very fast if they choose to chase us, and they will have to leave it behind, if they expect to catch up. I think the Great Spirit is with us this day.”

  Victorio turned his horse, and the rest followed, in order to skirt out around the barrier of rock castles that separated them from the approaching troop.

  The renegades watched from a distance as the small army troop continued down the trail. Now believing it was safe, they cut back down beyond where the army had approached. It was then, Victorio realized his mistake. There was another, larger troop, following in the small troop’s wake. Now they were caught between both troops. A gunshot rang out, and the small troop that had passed, turned their wagon around and was headed back as someone on the wagon prepared the mountain howitzer, lining it up to hit their target without mistakenly shooting their own men beyond the large band of Indians.

  Victorio, let out a loud war-whoop, giving the signal to scatter. It was every Apache for themselves, as the warriors shot out in different directions, causing the soldiers to split up in order to follow, each focused on their individual prey, which put the Bluecoats at a disadvantage at rounding up the group
, since the Indians outnumbered them. They would not be using their howitzer that day, Gray Wolf thought, as he and his two friends cut between the high rock formations, looking for a place to double back and continue their own journey without being detected. The others were also finding shelter among the rocks and canyon walls in their effort to escape. Dust was flying up around them, making it difficult to tell which riders were Indians and which were the Bluecoats.

  Gray Wolf’s chest heaved, as he urged his horse forward, hoping his companions were not far behind. The sound of stampeding horses echoed in his ears, mixed with shouts of white soldiers and renegades alike. He was not familiar with this territory and wasn’t even certain he was heading in the right direction. He just knew he needed to get away safe and then determine his location later, once the dust settled and all were safe from harm.

  The sound of gunfire, and bullets whizzing around Gray Wolf, cut through the dusty air, so he lay low on the side of his horse as it ran, to make less of a target for the soldiers to try and hit. If they hit his horse, though, it would end the chase. Wind Rider rose and fell beneath him as the surefooted mustang continued to carry him over the uneven ground, leaping over rocks and obstacles in their path, in an effort to escape the snorting horses of the white men that followed, now putting more distance between them.

  Gray Wolf didn’t know when he first realized it was only the sound of his own horse’s hooves that he could hear hitting the ground. He looked over his shoulder to discover if Spotted Coyote or Sleepy Fox were anywhere near. He could see neither, but the good part was that he could not see any soldiers either. His heart started to relax, but he still kept a steady pace, heading for the shelter of outcropping rocks ahead. He would find a place to hide his horse, and then climb up on the bluff to discover if he could see anything below, hoping to spot his companions, or at least see if the soldiers still followed him.

  Beads of sweat covered Gray Wolf’s brow, as he made it to the top of the bluff, tired and out of breath, his body heaving, he sprawled on his stomach against the hard rock, as he peered over the edge of the bluff. Nothing moved below. In the far distance he could see a cloud of dust, assuming it was the troops reassembling again. He wondered if they had killed any of the Apaches or taken any prisoners. He hoped they had not captured Spotted Coyote or Sleepy Fox. He had never felt as lonely as he did at that moment. He prayed to the Great Spirit for his companion’s safety. Then he slowly climbed down to where he left his horse. He decided he would camp there for the night beneath the shelter of the bluff. In the morning, he would have to decide what his next move would be.

  Gray Wolf jerked awake. He hadn’t intended to sleep so soundly, but the prior day’s events had exhausted him more than he had expected. He was aware of the sun beating down on him as he huddled close to the rock shelter. Then a shadow crossed over him, and his heart stilled, until he saw that it was merely Wind Rider, nibbling on sparse stims of grass that grew in the shade of the rocks. Gray Wolf felt stiff and sore, and he stretched to try and limber up his muscles. Then he sat absolutely still as he detected the faint sound of pebbles being crunched, most likely beneath a horse’s hoof. He eased his way along the bluff he was hugging against, trying to keep his footsteps light, and making sure he did not disturb any rocks as he edged his way to peer around the corner of the bluff.

  “There you are, my brother,” the booming voice of Spotted Coyote called, and Gray Wolf let out his breath. “Your trail was easy to follow, “he laughed, then jumped down from his horse and gave Gray Wolf a hearty hug.

  “Is Sleepy Fox with you?” Gray Wolf asked, as he greeted his friend.

  Spotted Coyote frowned and shook his head. “The soldiers have him,” he said gruffly. “We must go rescue him.”

  “Do they have any of the Apache’s?” Gray Wolf inquired.

  “Yes, but not many. We could try and free them as well, but I don’t know how easy it will be.”

  “I suppose we will discover it when we get there,” Gray Wolf half laughed.

  “Just so long we do not get captured in the process,” Spotted Coyote grunted.

  “Guess we had better head out, then,” Gray Wolf suggested as he swung up on Wind Rider’s back.

  Spotted Coyote remounted his horse and the two dug their heels into the side of their horses and stampeded back in the direction they had escaped from. By night fall, they could see the campfires in the distance, and they slowed their pace, getting down to leave their horses and sneak up on foot, so as not to be detected by anyone guarding the troop.

  Someone was playing a mouth organ, which Gray Wolf recognized because he had heard someone playing one at the fort when they went to trade. The sound was mournful, but there was something appealing about it as well. A few men were singing along with the instrument, and this made Gray Wolf relax a little because if they were caught up in their music, they would be less alert to listening for approaching danger..

  They probably assumed the rest of the Apaches had headed back to Arizona ahead of them and didn’t believe they had anything to fear, assuming the Apache’s had scattered in their effort to escape. They probably doubted the Apaches would be brazen enough to come back to try and free their companions. Gray Wolf could see they had the big weapon set up, on the chance they would need to use it against the Indians if they were brave enough to approach the troop.

  Spotted Coyote and Gray Wolf crawled on their bellies, sheltering themselves among the sagebrush, rocky outcrops, and whatever other obstacles they could find to duck behind as they slowly made their way closer. Gray Wolf looked at Spotted Coyote and pointed silently in the direction of the wagon that contained the bulky weapon. Sleepy Fox and three other Apache braves were tied to the wheels of the wagon. Gray Wolf could see the shadows of four soldiers, as they hovered around the wagon, ready to man the howitzer cannon, while protecting their prisoners at the same time. He shook his head in frustration. How were they going to get close enough to release Sleepy Fox? Freeing the rest would be near to impossible, even if they managed to free Sleepy Fox without detection. The two lay quite as they waited and watched in the hope of an opportunity opening up for them.

  The music continued to drift into the night sky, but eventually, it died out and the soldiers were crawling into their tents, except for the guards by the wagon, and at a couple other places around the camp. They would probably change the guard sometime in the night, Gray Wolf whispered to Spotted Coyote. Spotted Coyote nodded in agreement.

  The two watched the guards, hoping for a chance to catch them unawares, as they inched closer to the wagon, their bows and arrows ready to strike when the time came. Since there were four guards, Gray Wolf hoped if they could strike two without alerting the other two, it would give them enough time to whip two more arrows out of their quiver to fell the last two. He informed Spotted Coyote of his plan.

  Not knowing when the changing of the guard would come, their only hope was that the guards would start to get tired and not be as alert before that happened. The two watched the soldiers intently, their weapons waiting for the moment to strike. Gray Wolf noticed one of the guards nodding, even though he was standing on his feet next to the wagon, and nudged Spotted Coyote. Perhaps he would not be alert enough to notice his companions falling, if they shot two now, and Gray Wolf nodded to Spotted Coyote to make the first strike.

  The hissing sound of arrows whizzing through the air, only lasted a second before they hit their two targets. Almost as quickly another arrow was stretched against the string, and the second round flew through the air, bringing the other two guards down. Spotted Coyote and Gray Wolf were leaping towards the wagon, their knives ready to cut the cords that held the captive Indians, releasing Sleeping Fox first and then the others.

  Now the six of them were creeping away into the night. “We have no mounts for you,” Gray wolf told the Apache braves. “You will have to make it out on foot and hope you find some of your companions to help you. As for us, we have another direction to go
.”

  Gray Wolf swung up on Wind Rider’s back, and Spotted Coyote leaped up on his horse’s back, with Sleepy Fox jumping up behind him. The Apaches watched as the Sioux braves faded into the night, then turned and headed out on foot to see if they could find any of their companions, grateful the Sioux had been willing to help them escape the wrath of the white soldiers.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Daisy drew in her breath as she entered the ballroom. The carriages had been arriving long before she ever climbed the stairs to where the ballroom welcomed all the guests. Now, she could feel herself tremble as she took in the view before her. Her shimmering cream-colored gown matched the elegance of the room, but it didn’t make her feel any more at ease. Her hair was immaculately arranged on top of her head, by Mazy’s capable fingers. Small diamonds, attached to the end of hairpins winked out from her dark curls. Long, dangling diamond earrings brushed against the side of her neck. Her arms were embraced by long, cream-colored gloves to match her dress. Yet her fingers beneath the gloves, clutched at the sides of her gown, trying to still her echoing heartbeat, beneath the elaborate gown she wore. The small orchestra played a chord, causing all eyes to turn to her. The butler, standing at the door cleared his throat.

  “May I present Miss Daisy Radford, now reunited with her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Radford,” his voice boomed out.

  Daisy looked around, as though she expected some other Daisy Radford to be standing there, as she shivered between fright and lack of confidence.

  “Come, my dear,” she heard her father’s voice, calling through the fog that seemed to engulf her. “Everyone is waiting to meet you, but first…” he spread one arm in the direction of Daisy’s gifts that had been waiting for her in her room, now sitting in a pile in one corner of the ballroom, “you must open your presents that we have bought for you hoping this moment would arrive.” He gave Daisy an encouraging smile, taking her hand and leading her over to the brightly-wrapped packages.