by Zina Abbott
Sidney’s face colored with embarrassment and he shook his head. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, Daughter.”
“You’re going to let me go, Papa. Look, I’m dressed for riding.” Kizzie lifted her hem just far enough to reveal she wore her riding trousers underneath. “And I’m going to stand right where everyone can see me. I don’t want men making jokes about what Sugarcone will be going through. If the men there are any kind of gentlemen at all, they won’t say anything rude about it they don’t deem fit for my ears.” Defiantly, Kizzie looked everyone around her in the eye, daring them to contradict her. As usual, most of them shook their heads in dismay or scowled at her with disapproval. She didn’t care. She felt determined to do what was best for her horse. “I’m sorry I’m not the perfect daughter, Papa, but I intend to go, even if I have to walk.”
Leander, his eyes alight, cleared his throat as he fought the urge to burst out laughing. “It’s your decision, Mr. Atwell, but if this is Sugarcone’s first time, she is bound to be confused and unsettled over what will happen to her. I don’t want Miss Atwell anywhere near the horses while Thunder is with the mare. However, afterwards, your daughter might be a comfort to her horse.”
Sidney heaved a sigh of resignation. “All right, Kizzie. You can go. Jesse, please give your sister a hand up. She can ride behind you.”
With a scowl, Jesse slipped his boot from the stirrup and held out his hand to help Kizzie mount. He kept his voice low as he turned to speak to his sister while she settled behind him. “You are such a disgrace, Kizzie. Unless you start behaving the way you should, no man’s going to want you.”
Kizzie replied for her brother’s ears only. “No sense fooling a man before he marries me only to have him find out later how I am and him not like it. Besides, Jesse, you’ll have your own horse soon. Then you’ll understand.”
Kizzie held to the top rail as she stepped on the second to the bottom one to make herself taller than most of the people standing on the ground around the corral. She watched as inside the corral her Uncle Jefferson stood on one side of Sugarcone’s head and Otto stood on the other, each with a hand on a rope tied to her halter. Her papa stood in front of Sugarcone, crooning to the young horse in an effort to reassure her. Kizzie suspected all of them were prepared to leap away from flying hooves if Sugarcone tried to bolt when Thunder approached.
Kizzie turned to watch Leander with his stallion. With Thunder’s saddle off and only a rope attached to his halter, Leander prepared to lead the stud to Sugarcone. However, from the way Thunder stepped and trumpeted, the stallion needed no urging or coaching.
Kizzie pointedly turned first to one side and then to the other to study the audience that had formed to watch. With extra people in town, all looking for a diversion from the stress caused by the recent Indian attacks, a crowd had flocked to the corral to watch. It was mostly men and older boys, but Kizzie noticed a few wives there with their husbands.
As soon as anyone spoke, Kizzie glared at them, daring them to say something rude. However, the Atwell men had warned the first men who arrived to watch what they said because Kizzie would be present to look out for the interests of her horse. They wanted nothing said that would embarrass a young single woman. Upon catching sight of her glare their way, some men grimaced their disapproval at her presence, but most remained stone-faced and silent while they watched.
Kizzie jerked her attention back to the two horses in the corral as Thunder prepared to mount Sugarcone. She held her breath, and prayed that neither her horse nor the men would get hurt by his hooves.
Without looking his direction, Kizzie knew the second Jesse stepped up on the bottom fence pole at her side. “I think we’ll get a good foal out of this, Kizzie.”
“You’re probably right, and I should be happy for Sugarcone. It’s just this whole business caught me off guard.”
“It’s too bad it will go to the Army.”
“The foal should go to you, Jesse.”
Jesse turned to study his sister, amazed that she would be concerned about him after all that had been said.
Once Thunder finished with Sugarcone, Leander pulled the stallion away from the mare. Kizzie watched as the men of her family sought to calm her horse and lead her to a stall in the stable. As soon as the men left, Kizzie entered. As she slowly and carefully approached the mare’s head she noted Sugarcone’s trembling. Kizzie stroked her horse’s neck while speaking words of comfort, hoping Sugarcone would someday forgive her for allowing what had taken place to happen to her. After making sure there was plenty of water, feed and hay available, Kizzie sighed as she wrapped her arms around Sugarcone’s neck and leaned her head against the mare’s light molasses-brown coat.
Leander had come to the stall to tell Kizzie good-by. He froze in place as he studied the young woman in her faded blue dress, her sunbonnet hanging below unruly dark hair that now flew in every direction. He had never seen anything so beautiful. His initial assessment was reaffirmed. She was worth keeping track of. “Good-by, Miss Atwell. I need to return to my wagons. Assuming the Cheyenne don’t get me, I’ll see you next fall when I return from Pike’s Peak.”
Kizzie turned to face Leander. “Good-by, Mr. Jones. I do hope you have a safe trip. I’ll expect you to come check on Sugarcone.” Kizzie smiled at Leander. “I suppose since our horses are producing a foal together, we know each other well enough for you to call me Kizzie.”
“I will, Kizzie. And friends call me Leander or Lee. You take care, now.”
Two days later a couple of dispatch riders from the patrol sent to quell the Indian uprising passed through Junction City on their way back to report to the fort. They stopped by the camp of refugees long enough to tell them it was safe to travel back to their homes.
People listened in fascination as the soldiers regaled them. “The good folks of Salina didn’t need us to come save them. They built their own fort in the middle of town. Everyone gathered behind the barricade, and with guns ready, waited for the Indians to show themselves. Those savages came riding in close to town, acting like they would take the place by storm. I guess once they saw the town folks were ready for them and prepared to blast them to bits, they had themselves a little powwow and decided they’d done enough. They were long gone by the time us soldiers showed up.”
In response to the multitude of questions that flew at them, they assured the refugees the situation was stabilized. Yes, the soldiers set out west of town for a couple days to make sure the Indians were well and gone. No, there appeared to be no depredations east of town. The one sergeant made a final statement before the soldiers insisted they needed to return to the fort. “They probably got enough horses to drive back to where they came from to satisfy them for awhile.”
Convinced it was time for them to return, bury the dead, and move forward, the people who had fled Salina just days earlier prepared to break camp and return home. Although Kizzie wore her gown over her trousers, she insisted on traveling on the back of Sugarcone. No longer under the threat of Indian attack, the return trip took her family every bit of three days.
Chapter 7
SALINA, KANSAS – SEPTEMBER 17, 1862
Kizzie stroked Sugarcone’s neck as she offered the horse an apple quarter. The weather had finally cooled, and she knew autumn would soon be upon them, followed by winter’s cold and snow. She studied Sugarcone while pondering how well the mare, whose belly already showed evidence of the foal she carried, would weather the winter weather.
The sound of horse’s hooves racing into the yard prompted Kizzie to quickly leave the corral and trot over to her cousin.
Dead serious, Otto snapped out his demand. “Where’s your father and Jesse?”
“Out thrashing. Why?”
“Bushwhackers hit Salina. If they head this way, we all may be in danger. At best they’ll steal our horses and anything else of value they can carry. Get your mare and Peony saddled and fitted out with bedrolls and some feed. First ask your ma t
o put together some food for you and Jesse. All of us need to go into hiding with our horses. Pa sent me to bring you and Jesse over to our place.”
As Otto turned his horse towards the field, Kizzie for once didn’t fuss at him for barking orders at her. Assuming what he said was true, there was no time to waste. Kizzie grabbed Sugarcone’s halter and led the mare into the barn where she tied her up next to where she kept her saddle and tack. As much as she hated to cinch the saddle to Sugarcone’s expanding girth, she knew a short ride wouldn’t hurt the mare. It would be the fastest way to lead her to safety.
By then her mother had run out to the barn to join her. “Why was Otto here, and why didn’t he stay?”
Kizzie repeated Otto’s warning and instructions. “Mama, can you put some food together for us? I have to ready the horses. Otto said only Sugarcone and Peony, but I better get all three ready.”
Kizzie had Sugarcone saddled and was tying on a sack of feed behind her when she heard the men enter the barn. Her father’s voice was the first she heard clearly. “I don’t like the idea of just the two going, Otto. What if you get caught by this bunch? Kizzie, especially, will be in danger. And, if they come here, who knows what they might do to your Aunt Mima and Meredith.”
“You have to make that decision, Uncle Sidney. But here is what my pa figured based on what the two kids running away from Salina who stopped me said. The bushwhackers weren’t hurting any people as long as they cooperated. They were only taking food, horses and mules and valuables. Pa thought the best way to protect our livestock is to only hide our best horses. We’re leaving our old boy that doesn’t have many years left in him at home, plus your father-in-law is doing the same. That’s why he suggested you leave your gelding in the barn and only hide Kizzie’s horse and the other mare.”
Irritated, Sidney argued. “How do we know they will even come this way?”
“We don’t. The children who warned me said about twenty men came out of nowhere while the town was still sleeping. They had no idea if they came down the main trail on the north side of the Smoky Hill River, or if they followed that trail old man Pickard cut on the south side. But, even if they came bold as brass to Salina on the main road, when they head back to Missouri they may want to go a way that is not as well traveled. That might mean the south trail that is just past your place, Uncle Sidney. That’s why Pa thinks it would be safest for Kizzie and Jesse to bring your best horses and any valuables they can carry back our way. We have a couple thick stands of trees next to the river where we can hide out.”
Jesse, who had been listening silently, spoke up. “Why not take all the horses? Why don’t we all go?”
“Because, if all the horses and people are gone, they will know you were warned. They’ll start looking for where you went with the horses, or get angry and burn down the house and barn. Pa thinks as long as the bushwhackers aren’t intent on killing anyone, if they show up, we need to let them think you know nothing about them being in the area. Let them take something without them getting it all.”
Kizzie had finished filling a second sack of feed for Peony and handed it to her brother. “If you can saddle Peony, Jesse, I’ll go get my riding trousers on and fix us a couple of bedrolls. Ma should have our food packed. Papa, do you want us to take the rifle or the shotgun? If those bushwhackers do get here, you don’t want them to get their hands on them both.”
Sidney sighed in resignation. “Take them both, Kizzie. Let Jesse carry the rifle. I’d rather those hooligans get the pepperbox gun instead of the two long guns. I’ll go check on your mother. We’ll bury anything of value that is small in the kitchen garden. If anything happens to you, Daughter…”
Kizzie cut him off. “Nothing will happen to me, Papa. I’ll be with Otto and Jesse. They’ll look out for me.”
In what seemed to take much longer than Otto liked, Kizzie and Jesse prepared to leave. Otto shook his head when he saw Kizzie dressed in Jesse’s old clothes like she had been the day she rode for the fort. From under the rim of the old slouch hat she scowled back at him. As she mounted Sugarcone, she patted her boot where she had once again hidden the large kitchen knife. Her mama could do without it for a few days, and it had served her well the last time she had carried it. Both she and Jesse followed Otto out of the yard south and west towards their grandparents’ farm for the Palmer’s best horse. From there they would continue to the Jefferson Atwell farm beyond where Otto would pick up two more of their best horses.
Kizzie’s main concern was that if they did run into the bushwhackers, they might see through her disguise as easily as Tucker and Charlie Gray Cloud had and realize she’s female.
By the second afternoon, Kizzie was not looking forward to another night of sleeping out in the wooded area next to the river. The insects that seemed to explode in the air as the weather cooled had pestered her to a frazzle. She was ready for a hot-cooked meal. Unfortunately, because her uncle and Otto had worried that the smell of wood smoke would attract attention, even in the daytime, they had kept their camp cold—no wood smoke to help drive away the insects, let alone fix a hot meal.
As Kizzie led Sugarcone and her Grandpa Palmer’s horse back from the river, she realized her biggest problem was boredom. They had kept an ear out for any unusual noises that might spell trouble. More importantly, they had gone onto alert and moved the horses into deeper cover when it got too quiet. So far, no danger had presented itself. It was like the three of them were the only people left in the world. When would her papa and Uncle Jefferson come to tell them everything was all clear and they could bring the horses back home?
Otto had deliberately chosen a section of riverbank just past his family’s farm well before the big bend in the Smoky Hill River where it changed course and headed straight west. His reasoning, he explained to Kizzie and Jesse, was that he doubted the bushwhackers would head west. It was on the edge of the frontier and there wasn’t much out there, especially since the Cheyenne had wiped out so many settlers the previous spring and burnt down their farm buildings. They would be covering a lot of miles with no civilization and very little water if they went north or south. The most reasonable course for them was east, back to Missouri. If the bushwhackers decided to avoid Junction City and the fort, they would probably head back one of two ways. They could take the trail on the south side of the Smoky Hill River before it became the Kansas, with the obvious course for them to cross the river just west of the Sidney Atwell farm, or they might hug the Smoky Hills themselves until they and their stolen stock reached the rivers that emptied into the Arkansas River. Either way, he hoped they would not loop around close to where the three were hiding with the family’s horses.
As the three of them sat together after hobbling the horses where they could graze the sparse grass next to the river, Otto grabbed the attention of both Jesse and Kizzie when he confided in them. “I want to tell you what I have planned, but I don’t want you to say anything about it to the family. I want to tell my folks first. It’s just I know my pa won’t be too happy and my mother will cry and try to talk me out of it, plus I’ll probably have to listen to a bunch of caterwauling and wailing from Hannah and Magpie.”
Kizzie sat up straight. Her eyebrows shot towards her hairline. Her cousin Hannah, the perfect sister, would caterwaul and wail?
Jesse guessed at what Otto intended to tell them. “You going to join up to go fight in the war, Otto?”
“Sort of. I intend to join the militia. However, I don’t particularly want to go into battle back east. I certainly don’t want to join one of the regiments that are involved in the border wars between Kansas and Missouri. I’d hate to end up fighting against some of our old neighbors from Boonville. On the other hand, I can’t stop thinking about what the Indians did to all those people last spring. Now we have bushwhackers coming here to threaten us. Somebody has to do something to keep Kansas safe. I figure it’s up to me. I’m the right age. I know people look at me funny sometimes, wondering why I’m still at ho
me helping Pa on the farm. I just have to find the right regiment, then I’m joining up.”
Kizzie refused to wail or caterwaul. She answered quietly. “Your parents depend on you a lot, Otto.”
“I know. But Carl and Henry are of an age to help Pa more. When I was ten and twelve, he sure put me to work.”
Jesse stood up, as if doing so would give his words more import. “I’ll support you, Otto. If I were older, I’d go with you.”
Not to be outdone by her brother, Kizzie also offered her support. “I’ll miss you, Otto, but I understand.” She could not resist teasing although she knew it would irritate both her brother and her cousin. “I guess if we have to take the horses in hiding again, as the oldest cousin still at home, I’ll have to be the one in charge.”
Jesse grunted in disgust and Otto glared at her. “I don’t think so, Kizzie. You let one of the men handle dangerous situations. Although, I will have to admit you have done an excellent job with the horses while we have been here.”
A noise caught Jesse’s attention and he ran to stand next to one of the larger trees on the outside edge of the grove hugging the river. He turned and trotted back to the others. “Someone’s coming. Better keep the horses quiet.”
The three moved to the horses to calm them and keep them from calling out to the oncoming horses.
A minute or so later the other horses slowed and a voice called out. “Otto?”
Jesse stepped from behind his tree and moved to see who approached. He called back to Kizzie and Otto. “It’s Pa and Uncle Jefferson. The third man looks like the freighter with the stallion that got Sugarcone in foal.”
Kizzie grabbed the reins for Sugarcone and Peony plus her grandpa’s horse that Jesse had let loose. She pulled them to the edge of the trees before the prairie grass took over the landscape. Sure enough, between her papa and Uncle Jefferson rode Leander Jones on Thunder. Her first thought was, what is he doing here?
