by Zina Abbott
“No. Mr. Jones was respectful enough, both he and Mr. Gray Cloud. But from what I saw of the others, they haven’t seen a bath house or barber for awhile.”
Curious, Sidney stepped forward, a puzzled look on his face. “Mr. Gray Cloud?”
“He’s their scout. He said he’s half Kaw and the others coming from Salina way mistook him for the Indians who attacked the settlers. He thinks it may be the Cheyenne doing it because they don’t like people like us moving onto the prairie where they hunt buffalo. But, Mr. Gray Cloud was very polite to me.”
Kizzie sighed and shook her head with disgust.
Jefferson studied her. “Your words say one thing, Kizzie, but your expression says something different. What happened?”
Kizzie heaved a sigh. “It’s just they saw through my disguise right away. Well, Mr. Jones didn’t at first, but it didn’t take him long.”
Sidney pulled his daughter to him with a shoulder hug. “You’re too pretty to pass for a boy, Kizzie. That’s why I worry about you. You never should have come alone like this.”
Kizzie stiffened up and pulled away from her father’s arm. “Somebody had to, Papa. It was either me or Jesse to drive the wagon. You know Mama isn’t up to it. I guess I could have since I can shoot the shotgun as good as or better than he can. But Sugarcone is my horse. Besides, Jesse grabbed the shotgun and climbed up in the wagon seat right off. It made sense for me to be the one to ride for help.”
Sidney shook his head. “Don’t do anything so foolish again, Kizzie.”
Kizzie turned away and faced the south bank of the river. “If it had Jesse who rode all this distance to warn you, you would have said he was being brave. But because it was me you call me foolish. That’s not fair, Papa.”
“Yes, you were brave, Kizzie. Too brave. I don’t like you alone this far from home with no protection.”
“I took Mama’s pepperbox gun, Papa, so I had some protection. You know how Mama feels about guns. She wouldn’t have used it even if I left it with her.” Kizzie didn’t mention the kitchen knife still stuck in her boot.
Jefferson spoke up. “You could have ridden to Shorty Sanders’s place and asked him to come find us.”
Kizzie shook her head. It hadn’t even occurred to her to go seek help from Shorty, but it didn’t stop her from firing back a quick retort. “Shorty’s horse is too old. He couldn’t have made good time and it might have done his horse in. Sugarcone’s tired, but she’s young and strong. As long as I walk her going back she’ll be okay.”
The ferry reached the south side of the river and the trio led their horses onto dry land.
Before Kizzie could mount, Sidney grabbed his daughter by both of her shoulders and gently turned her to face him. “Kizzie, you have ridden that horse almost fifty miles. You look like you are ready to drop in your tracks. Now, just listen to me for once and don’t argue. We’re going to find a livery stable for your horse and see she gets good feed and is taken care of. Then I’m going to find you a room somewhere…”
“No, Papa, please don’t leave me behind all by myself.” Kizzie ignored the deepening frown on her father’s and uncle’s faces as she continued her plea. “If you think we should leave Sugarcone behind to rest, that I don’t mind because she really has worked hard today. But, I’d rather rent another horse and come with you and Uncle Jefferson. I couldn’t stand to be left in Junction City locked in a hotel room wondering whether or not everyone’s all right.”
Kizzie sighed with relief the moment she realized her father would go along with her plan. Now that the worst of her danger was past and she was reunited with her father and uncle, the adrenalin that had kept her going had passed, leaving her exhausted. Still, she would rather quietly follow them to rejoin her family than be left behind.
As Kizzie grabbed the saddle horn, she heard her Uncle speak to her father. “I don’t know why you give in to that girl, Sidney. Even with a fresh horse she’s too tired to be traveling all the way back with us. If it had been Hannah, once I told her she was staying here, that would have been the end of it.”
Kizzie grimaced and buried her face in Sugarcone’s neck. Once again she was being compared to her cousin Hannah, the perfect daughter.
“I know. But who knows what kind of rough characters may pour into this town before we get back with our families. I’d just as soon have her where I can keep an eye on her.”
“She’s a handful, Sidney. I’m glad she’s your daughter.”
Kizzie smiled as she heard her father pause briefly and then respond. “You know what, Jefferson? It took a lot of gumption for her to ride over forty miles to seek help for our family, especially not knowing what kind of threat she could end up facing. I may be angry with her for putting herself in danger, but I’m glad she’s my daughter too.”
After they found the livery stable and made arrangements for Sugarcone, including a promise that she would receive a good rub-down along with plenty of feed, Kizzie threw her saddle on a bay gelding her father rented. The horse was older than Sugarcone and his gait wasn’t as smooth, but she hoped there would be no need to force the horse into a hard gallop before she returned it.
Several miles out of town the trio approached what Kizzie recognized as the freight train. The oxen had been unhitched and hobbled where they could graze. Kizzie moved to the far side to allow her father and uncle to shield her from view. She’d rather not run into Mr. Jones again and risk him telling her father the details of how they had met. Of greater importance, the absolute last thing she wanted was to be recognized by Tucker.
A horse approached from the opposite direction. Kizzie immediately recognized Charlie Gray Cloud. The man slowed and raised his arm with his flat palm facing them. “Ho. I come in peace.” Charlie turned to Kizzie and flashed her one of his dazzling smiles. “I see you have found your father and uncle, miss.”
Frowning, Sidney twisted in his saddle until he faced his daughter. “Kizzie, do you know this man?”
“This is Mr. Gray Cloud, Papa. I told you about him.”
Jefferson shook his head. “I don’t speak sign language. Thank goodness you speak English.”
“Yes, I do. And thanks to the hostile raids out west this young woman warned us about, today is not a good day to be Indian. Can you tell me if they are sending soldiers from the fort?”
Jefferson answered. “Yes. As we were leaving, Captain Prescott said a large patrol was getting ready to depart. After my niece warned us of the danger to our families, we chose to not stay.”
Charlie turned to address Kizzie. “What happened to your horse?”
“She’s at a livery stable in Junction City to rest. Papa rented another horse for me so we can ride back to rejoin our family.”
Charlie grew serious. “Did Leander Jones catch up with you?”
Not hiding her annoyance, Kizzie snapped her reply. “Yes. He and that misbehaving horse of his followed me into the fort. But, after I found Papa and Uncle Jefferson and told them our family needs their help, some soldier came running up to us and demanded I give him my horse. That’s when I left. No one is getting my horse from me.”
A look of concern crossed Charlie’s face.
Jefferson elaborated. “After your friend told Captain Prescott my niece’s mare was in foal and wouldn’t make a good Army horse right now…”
“What?” Her mouth hanging open, Kizzie twisted in her saddle to face her uncle.
Jefferson ignored her and continued. “…the good captain developed an interest in the stallion belonging to your friend. Quite frankly, we were worried about our families, so at that point we left. Which is why we need to get going now.” Jefferson turned to his niece. “Not now, Kizzie. We’ll explain later.”
His arm resting on his saddle horn after he said his farewell, Charlie watched the trio start down the trail. He noticed the girl they called Kizzie leave the road to ride a wide path around the freight train. The men kept close to her side. Tucker had made it back to his wagon an
d a fellow bullwhacker had doused his wounds with whiskey and wrapped them before the man crawled beneath his rig to sleep off his hangover. Charlie hoped he was still asleep and would not recognize the girl even though she was riding a different horse.
Charlie decided he would let the men know some soldiers should be passing soon. Afterwards, he would ride back toward the fort to see if Leander still owned Thunder or was on foot.
A decision needed to be made whether to stay where they were until the Army had quelled the attack by what Charlie assumed were Cheyenne, or if they would press forward and take their chances. He knew Leander was of the opinion the first wagons to reach the Pike’s Peak area would command the best prices for their goods.
Charlie had not ridden far before he encountered Leander riding Thunder. “Ho, my brother. I see you still have your stallion. I was told the Army decided they had a use for him.”
The remark earned Charlie a scowl. Charlie turned and the two horses started back towards the freight train at a walk.
Leander picked up the conversation. “Captain Prescott was as diligent as ever in procuring livestock to keep his cavalry mounted. However, I told him Thunder was too valuable as a stud. I offered him my two geldings instead. I sent a telegraph home to have them brought in and a price negotiated.”
“Two?”
“I was afraid he would not settle for only one that was half Indian pony. After all, he not only wanted Thunder, he wanted me. Said an older man could be doing what I’m doing with the freight train. That was one reason I didn’t go into the fort with the rest of the train before, but went with you to see where we could ford the Republican. The recruiter at Fort Leavenworth has given me the same kind of trouble. However, if I was going to help the girl, I needed to go in this time.”
“You should not have gone back to the fort. If she made it safely that far, she could have found her father by herself.”
Leander felt his face flush as he explained. “I suppose. But I wanted to learn the girl’s name. And, I wanted to make sure the Army knew about the Indian uprising and intended to do something about it.”
“Her father and her uncle call her Kizzie.”
“I know.”
“They say her mare is in foal.”
“Yes. That is what I told Captain Prescott to convince him to not take her. I persuaded him to wait until she produced a foal sired by Thunder.”
Charlie turned to Leander with one of his toothy grins. “Except the mare is not in foal; the mare is in season.”
“Exactly. Which is why now I have gotten Captain Prescott off our backs for the time being, I need to find Miss Kizzie and her horse and let Thunder remedy the mare’s condition.”
“Miss Kizzie and the two men passed the freight train not long ago to search for the rest of their family.”
“Then, unless something here needs my attention, I better go after them.”
“The young woman rides a different horse. Her mare is back in Junction City. Perhaps you should wait until they return to get her.”
Leander turned to study Charlie as he digested this latest bit of information. “You’re probably right. I doubt those traveling by wagons will make it this far, even with the bridges over the streams. Perhaps we should ready the wagons for the night on the opposite side of the trail from the river and see to our stock.”
Before Charlie could respond, the sound of several horses galloping towards them prompted them both to turn to see who approached. The promised Army patrol, dressed smartly in their blue uniforms with its company and patrol flags flying, bore down on them. The two men moved their horses several yards off the trail and sat in their saddles as they watched the men on their mounts pass them in double file. Both counted the number of soldiers sent out to pursue the hostiles making their way to Salina. Both wondered if there were enough to discourage the tribe of the attacking warriors from being anywhere near the Smoky Hill Trail during the two months it would take the freight train to reach Pike’s Peak.
Chapter 5
It was several miles beyond the freight train but before the stage stop at Abilene that the three Atwells found the rest of the family. Much to the relief of all, the three wagons had joined with others traveling towards Junction City to form a train big enough to provide decent defense should the hostiles overtake them. Shorty Sanders, his pack horse loaded with his supplies tied to the Palmer wagon, had provided the family an extra rifle for defense.
Kizzie turned her head to avoid the glare of two women whose small children she had refused to take with her on her race to Fort Riley. She refused to feel guilty. She had accomplished her goal, which was to find her father and uncle and bring them back to help defend the family.
As soon as Kizzie joined her family, the criticisms started, most vocally from her mother, Jesse and Otto. Tears of frustration in her eyes, she screamed at them in response. “Stop it! Stop fussing at me! I found Papa and Uncle Jefferson and told them to come back, didn’t I? Doesn’t that mean anything to you? If any of you says one more word to me I’m going back to Fort Riley and I’m staying there.”
“That’s enough!” Sidney’s words rang out, silencing the others. He rode up next to Kizzie and placed his hand on her arm. “As much as I was not happy to see our Kizzie put herself in danger like she did, I will be the first to say she did a very brave thing. She did it because she loves us. Now, she rode at break-neck speed all the way to the fort and halfway back. I know she must be hungry and exhausted. She needs to clean up and get some rest. Not one more word about this from anyone.”
Kizzie glanced up long enough to see the resentment still smolder in Jesse’s and Otto’s eyes, but at least they had clamped their lips shut.
After a few seconds, Jesse turned to his father. “Where’s Sugarcone?”
Too tired after her outburst to answer, Kizzie let her father explain. “Got her boarded back at Junction City. But, Kizzie insisted on coming back with us.”
Heaving a sigh of resignation, Otto stepped forward and reached for the reins. “I’ll take care of your horse, Kizzie. Maybe you should do like your pa says and get some rest.”
As Kizzie stepped down out of the saddle, she felt her mother’s arms around her shoulders. Mima’s soft voice spoke into her ear. “Come, Daughter. You can get something to eat while I heat up some water for washing. I’d rather see you dressed as you should be. Did you pack a gown?”
“They’re in my blanket roll, Mama. They’re wrinkled, but as clean as they were when I took them off in the barn back home.”
The fight worn out of her, Kizzie followed her mother’s directives and soon was cleaned up, changed and fed. She fought in vain to keep her eyes open and soon found herself wrapped in blankets in the wagon box, later joined by her mother and Meredith.
The following morning, Kizzie woke to discover her mother had already risen and built up a campfire. To keep from waking Meredith, Kizzie carefully lifted the blankets and stepped over the side of the wagon, bracing her foot on one of the spokes of the front wheel. She found the jacket she had worn the day before and pulled it on to ward off the April morning chill.
Without a word, Mima handed Kizzie a tin plate with two flapjacks on it. She realized, considering the haste in which they had been forced to leave the day before, and with only the supplies they had on hand to draw from, they were lucky to have that.
Soon they were joined by Jesse and Sidney, and lastly by Meredith, who mostly ate in silence. When finished, Sidney called on Jesse to help him hitch the horses to the wagons and saddle the ones they would be riding.
Sidney turned to Kizzie. “Daughter, Jesse had a long day on the wagon bench yesterday just like you had a long day in the saddle. I’m going to let him ride that horse we rented. Do you feel up to driving the wagon for your ma and sister?”
Kizzie glanced up, and from the look in her father’s eyes she knew what her answer must be. “Yes, Papa.”
“Kizzie, I checked the pepperbox gun last night after yo
u went to bed. I noticed one of the bullets gone. Did you shoot it yesterday?”
Kizzie jerked up straight as her voice caught. She cleared her throat. “Yes, Papa. A varmint threatened Sugarcone, so I scared it off.” She slumped back down, not wishing to have her father look her in the eye. She hadn’t lied, exactly. Calling the man Tucker a varmint was better than what he deserved to be called.
Sidney’s words dragged, revealing his reservations about Kizzie’s story. “A varmint. All right, Daughter. I did reload it so it has three shots again. I’ll leave it with you in the wagon. Jesse will carry the shotgun.”
“Yes, Papa.”
Grandma Mary joined them shortly after the men left the campfire. As soon as Meredith finished her breakfast, Mima turned to her youngest. “Meredith, would you like to visit with your cousins for a few minutes to see how they are doing? We’ll be leaving soon, and trapped in the wagon, you won’t have a chance to talk to them until later.”
Her eyes on Kizzie, Mary addressed Mima. “Have you asked her about it yet?”
Mima shook her head no in response.
Kizzie’s eyes traveled from one face to the next. Oh, no, she wondered. What now? She sucked in her breath as her mother brought out the large kitchen knife from under a food box.
“Kizzie, I found this in your boot after you went to bed last night. I wondered what had happened to it, assuming at first you might have forgotten to pack it. My question is, Daughter, what is on this knife? It looks like blood.”
Kizzie sucked in her breath as she stared at the knife. A tell-tale rusty brown streak smeared on one side of the blade ended in a thick line of dried blood in the crease where the wooden handle had been attached to the tang of the knife. She had been near a river more than once since her confrontation with the degenerate freighter. Why had she not taken the time to wash the knife clean of the evidence of her struggle with him? She glanced again at her mother and grandmother as she struggled with how to answer them.
