A Passing Glance

by Amelia C. Adams

  They all took seats around the fire, and Jesse explained why they were there. He didn’t bring up Parker’s feelings toward Indians or the rift between Parker and Posy. Instead, he told his parents about the stolen horse, and he explained how Parker’s father had died. His parents seemed to understand what he was asking, even though he didn’t state it outright.

  “None of the Kaw would have done these things,” Martha said, turning toward Parker. “We have no interest in stealing or murdering. There are others who become jealous or angry, and they are the ones you seek.”

  “I’ve explained to Parker that each tribe follows a set of rules, their code of conduct,” Jesse said. “From what we learned on the trail, I think these thieves were Comanche.”

  Abraham nodded. “Most likely. I’ve caught wind of some disruptions in the area, and they seemed to lead back to the Comanche.”

  “What kind of disruptions?” Parker asked.

  “Some minor thefts, some vandalism. Nothing that concerned me until now, when you’ve come with these other stories.” Abraham poked at the fire with a long stick. “There’s an encampment five miles to the west of here. If you’re looking for information, that’s where I’d go.”

  “But not him,” Martha said, nodding toward Parker. “He must stay here, where we can protect him.”

  Parker opened his mouth to object, but then he realized the wisdom of what she was saying. If his presence was a danger to Posy, of course he’d take Martha’s counsel.

  “I will ride with Jesse and Posy at first light,” Abraham said.

  Parker blinked. “If I have to stay behind because I’m white . . . I don’t understand.”

  Jesse laughed and shook his head. “Yes, my father’s white, and so am I, but we’ve lived out here on these plains, and they all know us. My father has gained their respect, and as his children, Posy and I are safe too. When it comes to you, though, it’s just better if we don’t have to explain who you are. They might take offense before that explanation is given.”

  Parker didn’t like it, but he was willing to do what they said.

  Martha served them all bowls of venison stew, then set to work wrapping up some jerky and other foods to send along the next day. Jesse and Abraham went inside and lay down so they’d be well rested. Parker expected Posy to do the same, since she’d be going with them, but instead, she remained by the fire next to him.

  “I feel like I’m learning so much, being out here with you. Thank you for giving me this opportunity.”

  “To be honest, that’s why we brought you,” Posy replied. “Jesse hoped that once you saw our way of living and learned more about us, your heart might be changed toward us.” She paused. “And he hoped that I’d be softened toward you. He seems to think that I’m being too hardheaded where you’re concerned.”

  That was a surprise to Parker, but a nice one. “I appreciate his concern.”

  Posy stared into the fire. “I’ve been watching you today. I’ve noticed how carefully you’ve listened to everything you’ve been told and how you seem eager to learn more. Are you . . . Never mind. I shouldn’t ask.”

  “Am I becoming less of an Indian hater?” Parker filled in where he thought she left off. “Honestly, yes, I believe I am. I’m angry at the men who stole Freya and I’m angry at the men who killed my father, but I’m recognizing that I can’t hate all Indians because of the choices of a few. I was wrong, Posy, and I hope you know how sorry I am about that.”

  She nodded, but she still didn’t turn to meet his gaze. “When I came to Topeka, I knew I was taking a risk. I stayed close to the hotel and didn’t go far from it, hoping I could pass for being white or even Mexican and live in peace. I had nearly come to the point where I was no longer afraid—until you came along.”

  Even though she was speaking softly, her words cut into him like a knife. He couldn’t answer—he couldn’t even breathe.

  “You were so easy to talk to, and I felt as though we’d made true friends. But everything changed just in the space of a few minutes, and I don’t know if we can ever go back to the way things were before.”

  “I don’t think we can,” he finally managed to say. “But I think we could go on from here, and it would be better because we’ve both learned so much since then. I’m trying, Posy—I’m genuinely trying, and I hope that maybe, you are too.”

  “I am trying. I want to understand your feelings and to imagine how I would feel if white men came riding in here and killed my father. I know you had good reasons for developing your prejudices . . . I just wonder if you’re willing to let them go.”

  Parker reached out and took her hand. She didn’t pull away like he expected her to. Instead, she sat very still, her fingers fluttering almost like the wings of a butterfly. “I’m willing. I’m very willing, but I’ll need help. I’ll need practice. I’ll need someone to be patient with me as I learn. Can you do that for me, Posy? Can you be patient with me while I try?”

  She didn’t respond for a moment, but then she nodded. “I’d better get some sleep too,” she said, then stood and disappeared inside.

  Parker stared into the remaining flames of the fire, at the way they danced orange and yellow. “You should sleep too,” Martha said, coming up behind him and startling him with her sudden appearance. She placed a roll of blankets and robes on the ground next to him. “You’re not family and you and Posy are not married, so you may sleep out here by the fire. You will be comfortable, though—buffalo is very thick.” She gave a nod and went inside, leaving him alone.

  He spread the robes on the ground, then covered himself with the blanket. Yes, buffalo was thick, and it cushioned him much better than he’d expected. He was still sleeping on the ground, but he couldn’t feel every tiny rock and twig, and he was able to relax. Watching the flames, looking up at the stars, he was asleep within minutes, comforted by the fact that Posy was speaking to him again and not just enduring his presence.

  Chapter Twelve

  Posy, her brother, and her father awoke while the sky was still gray and saddled their horses, putting the provisions Martha had gathered into their saddlebags. Parker was still asleep by the fire, so they moved silently, not wanting to disturb him.

  “He snores,” Martha whispered, nodding toward Parker’s bundled form.

  “He’s had a rough trip,” Posy replied. “He’s not used to all this.”

  “It’s good for him. And today, I’ll show him a few things about our simple way of life. Don’t worry, daughter. I’ll take good care of him.”

  “I’m not worried.”

  “Yes, you are.” Martha put her hands on Posy’s shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “He means something to you, but you don’t want him to. Why are you fighting your feelings?”

  “He doesn’t understand our ways. He doesn’t understand me.”

  “He can learn.” Martha gave Posy a squeeze. “Jesse told me that this man has a good heart, but he needs empathy. He and I will spend time together today while you’re gone. It will be a good day.”

  “Thank you.” Posy blinked as unexpected tears rose in her eyes. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

  They rode out and headed toward the Comanche camp. Abraham didn’t speak as they traveled. Posy recognized that he was preparing for this encounter. Their relations with the Comanche were generally peaceful, but the wrong approach could cause trouble not only for them, but their tribe. It was a fine line Abraham walked, and he did it only because his children’s friend was in need.

  She wondered if Parker could even begin to understand everything that was at stake here.

  In so many ways, it would be simpler to let Freya go and get a new horse, but Abraham wouldn’t see it that way. He’d spent a lot of time meeting with both Indians and white men trying to broker peace, and he would feel it necessary to speak with the Comanche about stealing from the whites. Posy cringed as she thought about her father’s quest. He believed that the races could live side-by-side if they tried, bu
t she wasn’t so sure that they wanted to try.

  A quarter mile or so outside the Comanche camp, Posy spotted a scout up ahead, and she called out to him in Comanche. “We are friends. We have come to speak with your chief.”

  He studied her curiously. She had worn one of her buckskin dresses to represent herself as an Indian, and both her father and brother had dressed in their skins as well. She hoped this was taken as a gesture of good will.

  After a moment, he nodded, then turned and rode down the hill. Posy followed him, and Jesse and Abraham followed along in the rear.

  They dismounted and tied up their horses at the edge of the camp, and the scout then led them to a large tent in the center. He disappeared inside, and Posy blew out a breath while they waited.

  At last, a wizened man emerged from the tent and motioned for them to follow him to the fire circle, where they all sat on logs and faced each other.

  “Abraham,” he greeted Posy’s father. “You have come to see me,” he continued in Comanche. “Why are you here?”

  “My daughter will speak for me,” Abraham said haltingly. “I am learning your words, but they are hard for me.”

  The chief nodded once. “Why have you come?”

  With Posy’s help, Abraham explained that they were seeking some men who had stolen five horses from the white man’s town of Humboldt, and that they were looking for the return of one horse in particular.

  “None of my people would have done this,” the chief said. “However . . .”

  Posy leaned forward, waiting for him to continue.

  “Last summer, three of our young braves became angry at our ways and decided to live on their own. When they left, there was much hatred in their hearts. We have sorrowed for them, but have not known how to reach them. They were our sons, our brothers. They might be the ones you seek.”

  “What would you have us do?” Posy asked. This was the moment that had made her the most nervous. It wasn’t an easy thing, riding into someone’s camp and telling them that their sons were criminals.

  The chief sat quietly for a long minute. No one moved—they understood that he was thinking, likely weighing all his options.

  “I would have you forgive them,” he said at last. “You have been wronged, but revenge will do no good. It will only bring chaos.” He motioned to one of the young men standing nearby and said a few words so quietly that Posy didn’t catch them. “In time, our sons will come to recognize what they have done, and then we will be able to speak to them. For now, we will let it go. They must learn from their mistakes.”

  Posy wanted to protest, to insist that something more be done, but when she relayed the chief’s words to her father, he nodded.

  “The chief is wise,” he said. “Forcing a lesson upon someone who is unwilling to learn only exhausts the teacher and frustrates the student.”

  Posy closed her eyes and nodded. She would not argue with her father, and certainly not in front of the chief. She would likely ask more questions later, but it was obvious that there was much that she didn’t understand.

  She opened her eyes when she heard the sound of a horse. The young man had returned, leading a beautiful palomino pony.

  “We offer you this gift to replace what was stolen from your friend,” the chief said. “We hope that he will accept this token of peace.”

  Abraham bowed his head. “I’m certain that he will. Thank you.”

  Posy translated all their words of farewell, but she was so startled by everything that had just happened, she couldn’t focus on her task. As they were riding away from the encampment, leading Parker’s new horse, she said, “Father, I’m so confused. Please explain it to me.”

  Abraham chuckled. “You were there for the whole thing—what’s confusing you?”

  “Why did the chief give you this horse? Why didn’t he become angry that we were accusing his braves? What . . . what just happened?”

  Jesse gave her a smile. “Let’s stop up ahead and eat before we go any farther. That stew they gave us was good, but I’m still hungry.”

  Posy knew this was his way of telling her to be patient, and also creating a way for them to sit and have a real conversation.

  When they dismounted, Jesse pulled some jerky from his bag and handed it around, along with some wrapped-up corn bread. They sat on the ground, not bothering to spread out a blanket. They wouldn’t be there long enough to worry about such things.

  “The chief is in a precarious position,” Abraham explained after he’d eaten most of his food. “He is the leader of his tribe, and he must see to their best good at all times. It troubles him that these young men have left the tribe and are behaving the way they are, but at the same time, he has to keep the tribe’s relations with the surrounding tribes as positive as possible. By giving us this horse, he hopes to placate us so we won’t take further action.”

  “But he doesn’t even know for sure that it was his braves who stole those horses,” Posy said. “It could have been another group altogether.”

  “It could have been, but in his mind, giving us the pony was a necessary investment in peace,” Abraham replied. “He would rather see us calm and happy than to take the chance that his braves weren’t involved.”

  “And in the meantime, I’m sure he’s still trying to find the young men who went missing from his tribe,” Jesse added. “He’s not going to stop caring about them, and he’s not going to let them get away with what they’re doing. He’s just giving them enough rope to hang themselves with, as the saying goes.”

  Posy shuddered. “I hate that saying.” But she understood—the chief would have peace at any price, and in this case, that price was a pony. He was trusting them to do the right thing in not going after the thieves, and he would deal with them as he could. The pony was symbolic of that promise.

  “Let’s get back to the village,” Jesse said, standing up and brushing corn bread crumbs off his pants. “I’m sure Mother and Parker are worried about us by now.”

  Posy walked over to the palomino and stroked its muzzle. “I hope Parker likes her,” she said. “She’s so gentle.”

  “If he doesn’t like her, he’s a fool,” Jesse replied. “That’s a valuable horse.”

  “It will take time for him to adjust to losing his other horse—value isn’t only found in cost,” Abraham said. “I think he’ll be all right, though.”

  Posy mounted her horse and took up the reins of the palomino. “Come on, girl,” she said. “Let’s go meet your new owner.”

  ***

  Parker looked up from his task when he heard horses approaching. “They’re back,” he called out, and Martha came outside.

  “They were successful,” she said, nodding in their direction. “They’ll have a story to tell.”

  Posy dismounted first and looped her horse’s reins over the branch of a nearby tree. Abraham and Jesse did the same. Parker thought he saw a fourth horse mixed in with them as well, but it was growing dark, and it was hard to tell.

  “I’m making pemmican,” he told Posy as she approached, holding up his bowl so she could see it.

  “Oh? And do you like it?” she asked.

  “Um, it’s actually pretty terrible,” he replied, and she laughed.

  “Yes, but it’s good in the winter when fresh meat is hard to find.” She peered into the bowl. “Elk?”

  “Yes, and a few dried onions.”

  She nodded. “That will keep a family from starving when the weather turns bitter and it’s difficult to hunt. What else have you been doing today?”

  “A little bit of everything. Martha showed me how she does laundry, how she tans hides, how she stitches buckskins—it was fascinating, like my own personal guide to how the Kaw live. She’s an amazing woman.”

  Posy smiled. “She really is. And what did you think about everything you saw today?”

  “I’ve definitely gained a new respect for doing everything from scratch. It’s hard work, living out here on the land without a
general store or a restaurant close at hand.” He couldn’t even find the words to describe everything he was thinking. Martha was busy from dawn until dusk doing all the things that were necessary for survival, and yet she didn’t seem tired or frustrated. She accepted it all as a matter of course and simply moved on to the next thing when she completed a task.

  “Living in town does have its advantages.” Posy sat down next to him, her arm brushing against his as she got comfortable. “My father would like to speak with you.”

  “Of course.” Parker looked up to see Abraham settling in on the other side of the fire. “How was your journey, sir?”

  “It went well,” Abraham replied. “But differently than we thought it would.”

  As he explained what had taken place, Parker was astonished. “They gave me a horse?”

  Jesse had left the conversation a moment before, and now he returned leading a young palomino. “This is their peace offering,” he said. “The chief asks if you’ll forgive the men who stole Freya and allow the Comanche to deal with the situation as they see fit.”

  Parker opened his mouth, then closed it again. If he did as the Comanche asked, the thieves might never come to justice. Then again, they might not anyway. They still had no idea who the men were, and they could waste countless hours or days trying to follow a path that didn’t exist anymore.

  He looked over at Posy and saw that she was anxious to hear his answer. This was more than just replacing a horse—this meant mending a rift, and it would have ramifications for both tribes. He was ignorant of the politics at play in the situation, but he could put two and two together, and Posy’s every breath told him how badly she wanted him to accept this offer.

  “I agree,” he said, and she all but sagged with relief next to him. “Freya was a good horse and I miss her, but I won’t put you in a difficult position on my account. This is a beautiful animal, quite a worthy gift.”

  Jesse nodded. “Thank you, Parker. We feel that’s the best solution too.”