Allyson stepped closer. “Why?”
His eyes moved over her with a look of terrible sorrow. “Because I was an Indian. That was all the excuse they needed.”
Allyson thought about her own remark that first time he had left Guthrie, and she felt sick about it. “How can anyone be that cruel?” She knew immediately that he was also remembering what she had said.
“It happens. People form opinions without knowing all the facts. That’s just the way life is, just like people judging you at first because you are young and a woman. They figured you’d never succeed, and I guess I was one of them at first.” He sighed deeply. “Get some sleep.”
Ethan turned and left, and Allyson walked to the back door, sliding the lock shut after he went out. She was sorry he had to go back out again, suspected he wanted nothing more than to be able to lie down and rest. His loyalty touched her heart, and she thought about his remark, realizing that she knew him so well that she hardly saw him as Indian anymore. She only saw Ethan Temple, the man, and that was what bothered her. Her arguments for not allowing herself to love him were becoming weaker, except for one. Loving a man meant being hurt and humiliated. It meant letting a man take his ugly physical pleasures, and that she could not tolerate.
“You hear what’s goin’ on up north on the Sioux reservations?” Hector Wells leaned against his saddle and took some chewing tobacco from a little leather pouch, shoving some into his mouth.
Ethan sat across a campfire from the man, smoking quietly. “I’ve seen a little bit about it in the papers in Guthrie, but no Indian in his right mind would believe words in a white man’s newspaper. That’s part of the reason I came out here to find you, to see if you knew more about it. I figured word would be all over the reservations down here, especially among the Cheyenne.”
Hector chuckled. “Hey, Breed, I don’t stick my nose in no Cheyenne affairs. You’re all crazy.”
Ethan smiled, keeping his cheroot between his teeth. “You nosy Cherokee know every damn thing that’s happening with all the other tribes, just so you can stay ahead of things and blame all the bad stuff on us. You don’t fool me.”
Hector laughed louder. “The Cherokee are a smart people. You could take lessons.” The man got to his feet. “I gotta go water a tree. I’ll be right back.”
Ethan was glad he had been able to track Hector down after trying to find him at Fort Supply. He had trained a new man for Allyson, then had to get out of Guthrie for a while just to get away from her. He’d told Allyson it was best to leave the new man on his own for a week or so, to see how he worked out. He figured he’d try to find out more about what was happening with his Sioux and Cheyenne relatives up north before he went there, so he’d have a better understanding of how he might be able to help them.
He was actually getting anxious to leave. He’d been in Guthrie for five weeks, and it was no longer possible to look at Allyson as just a friend. She had come into his room a few times while she thought he was sleeping, to collect his clothes and bring clean towels and such. She had been quiet as a mouse, but he’d known she was there just the same. And when she had stopped just to stare at him a couple of times, while he lay with his naked torso exposed from the waist up, it had taken all his willpower not to grab her and roll her into his bed, but that would only frighten her and make her hate him again, and he didn’t want that. They were too different to actually spend their lives together, weren’t they? If that was the case, then he simply had to leave again, and he did not want to part as enemies the way they did before. They had to part as friends so he would not feel that something was unfinished, or feel compelled to return again for some kind of apology.
“They call it the Ghost Dance religion,” Hector spoke up, interrupting Ethan’s thoughts to explain what was happening with the Sioux. He had returned to take his place near the campfire. “I heard about it from a Cheyenne who just came down here not long ago. He’s married to a Sioux woman. They left to live here on the Cheyenne reservation because he is afraid there will be big trouble over this new religion. The whites don’t like it.”
Ethan watched the flickering flames of the campfire, wondering when it was all going to stop—the broken promises, the taking of Indian lands…the hope most of his Indian relatives still held that it would all change and somehow one day they would get all their land back. That was never going to happen. He sat up a little straighter, poking at the fire. Coals popped, and a few red sparks rose into the dark night. He had found Hector camped along the North Canadian River, near the northern edge of the Cherokee Outlet. The man had been hunting for meat for the army.
Ethan puffed at the cheroot, grinning at the satisfied look on Hector’s face. “It makes you feel real important to know something about my people that I don’t know, doesn’t it, Hec?”
Hector smiled. “If you quit hanging around those white people in Guthrie, you’d know what was really happening,” he teased. “But anyway, it’s more a Sioux problem than Cheyenne. I know you have a grandmother and a couple of cousins living up there with the Hunkpapa because they married into the Sioux; I guess there ain’t a lot of difference between the Sioux and the Cheyenne, is there?”
“Not a whole lot, except that the Sioux have a little more of their own original land left.”
“Maybe not for long. This Cheyenne I talked to, he says the government is after that Sioux land, and you know what that means. His name is George Red Fox. Anyway, this new religion is coming right at a time when the Sioux are refusing to sell any more land, and it has made them even more determined. George Red Fox, he says it all started with a Sioux called Kicking Bear. He heard a voice tell him to go far to the west to the land of the Fish Eaters—that’s what they call the Paiutes, you know.”
Ethan grinned, realizing that Hector just loved to think he knew more than anyone else. “I know.”
“Well, the Fish Eaters, they told Kicking Bear that Christ had returned to earth. To prove it, they took him to a place called Walker Lake, in that place called Nevada. Kicking Bear claimed that when they went to this place, the Christ appeared, only he was not a white man. He looked Indian. He taught them a special dance called the Dance of the Ghosts. It is a form of worship, and through this dance, the Christ said that the People can bring back all their dead relatives and they will live again. The Christ told Kicking Bear and the Fish Eaters that the more they dance, the more hope there is of this happening. The earth will someday soon be covered with new soil, which will bury all the white men. The new land will be covered with green grass and buffalo, trees and clean water and wild horses. While the earth is being renewed, those who dance the Ghost Dance will be raised up into the air and held there until it is all done, then set back down to live among their relatives who have been brought back to life. Kicking Bear and his friends, they hurried to catch a train back to the reservation. He says the Christ flew above them, teaching them the proper songs for the Ghost Dance and telling them to teach the People this new faith and telling them of this wonderful resurrection that is to take place.”
Ethan threw what was left of his cheroot into the fire. “They believe this?”
Hector nodded. “George Red Fox says a lot of Indians, from Nevada all the way back to the Dakotas, are dancing this dance, taking turns so the singing and dancing goes on almost constantly. Yes, they believe it very much. A Paiute Messiah called Wovoka was the first to teach about this new religion, and after Kicking Bear traveled out there and saw the Christ for himself, he knew it was true. Perhaps he fasted and what he saw was a personal vision, but he believes it very strongly, and so do the others. They have made sacred garments for themselves called Ghost Shirts. They are painted with magic symbols, and they believe that when they wear these shirts, no harm can come to them. That is the dangerous part. They think soldiers’ bullets cannot penetrate the shirts. Even Sitting Bull thinks this religion could be a good thing. He has had Kicking Bear teach the Ghost Dance to his people. The dancing has spread like a prairie
fire, and everywhere in the hills of the Dakotas, George Red Fox says one can hear the singing and drumming, all through the night. It has made the white people very nervous. They think the Indians are gathering and preparing to make war. That Indian agent, White Hair McLaughlin, he is trying to put a stop to it. The whites do not seem to understand that this new religion is based on Christ. George Red Bear says part of the teaching is that the Indians are not to harm anyone. They are not to fight, but the soldiers and whites, they think the Indians are going to make war. George Red Fox says there will be much trouble over it. He decided to leave. He is married to a Sioux woman, but because he is Cheyenne, he can come here to live. He is afraid of the trouble that is coming up there.”
Ethan sighed deeply, leaning back against his bedroll. “He’s probably right. I don’t like the sound of it. Rumors of Indians getting ready for war make white people too damn nervous, and we both know what that can lead to. The Indians don’t even have to have guns to give the whites an excuse to murder, pretending self-defense.”
Hector just grunted. He knew Ethan had bad memories about Sand Creek. His own people had had their share of suffering at the hands of whites convinced that Indians and whites could not coexist peacefully. For his own people, memories of the Trail of Tears was what brought the pain. “You better get up there and see your kin before something bad happens,” he finally spoke up. “Maybe you can make them come down here where they’d be safer.”
Ethan rubbed at his eyes. “I’ll try. I have to go back to Guthrie first for a few days, then I’ll head on up north.”
Hector poked at the fire again. “What’s in Guthrie that you gotta go back? Ain’t nothin’ in that noisy white settlement for a man like you.”
Ethan continued to stare at the campfire. “Just a little business to settle. I had a job—need to collect a few expenses.”
“I’m sorry about your pa dyin’ and all that. I just don’t know why you didn’t come straight back here afterward, or go on up north. Why Guthrie?”
Ethan pulled a blanket around his shoulders. “Jesus, I said you Cherokee were nosy. You’re sure proving it.”
Hector turned his head and spit tobacco juice out into the grass. “And you Cheyenne ain’t no good at coverin’ up. Seems to me I remember last year you talkin’ about havin’ to watch over some pretty young girl—when we was talkin’ that day I came to get you just before the land rush. I remember seein’ her then. She wouldn’t be the reason you came back to Guthrie, would she? Fact is, maybe she’s the reason you left for so long in the first place.”
“Yeah? Maybe you should just mind your own business.”
Hector eyed him closely. “She’s white.”
Ethan scowled at him, adjusting a rolled blanket under his head and turning over so his back was to the man. “So what?”
“Stay away from it, Ethan.”
Ethan closed his eyes, but all he could see was Allyson’s face. “Easier said than done. There’s more to it than you know, but I’m not stupid enough to think it can really go anywhere. Once I leave this time, it’s for good.”
Hector chuckled softly. “Sure. You been inside her yet?”
Ethan sighed in mock disgust. “You dirty-minded old bastard, go to sleep!”
There was nothing but silence for the next several minutes. Finally Ethan could hear Hector putting more wood on the fire, then make a few grunting sounds as he settled into his bedroll. “So, you love her, huh?”
Ethan rolled his eyes, but he had to admit it felt good to tell someone. “Yeah, I love her, but she’s made it real clear she doesn’t want a man in her life, let alone an Indian.”
“You’re half white and fine lookin’. She wants you, all right. She just don’t know it yet. You gotta be patient with them white women. They don’t know how to show affection like Indian women do. Comes natural to Indian women. Them white women, they gotta work at it.”
Ethan grinned to himself. “I don’t think in this case it’s worth being patient. I’m better off just getting the hell out.” He heard a low chuckle.
“Oh, you’ll leave, all right. But you’ll go back. Somethin’ about gettin’ the scent of a certain woman, a man can’t hardly stay away.”
“Thanks for telling me what you know about what’s happening up north, Hec, but stay out of my personal affairs, would you? You’re getting too old to get punched in the mouth.”
Hector laughed out loud. “I ain’t afraid of no punch from no weak Cheyenne. Now, us Cherokee men, we know how to handle women.”
“Yeah? How come you don’t have one sleeping in your bedroll tonight then? How come three wives have left you?”
“Oh, I was just too much man. I wore them out.”
This time it was Ethan’s turn to laugh. It helped alleviate the worry he felt over the new religion sweeping among the Sioux in the north. He could see nothing but disaster resulting, especially from the belief that the Ghost Shirts could protect his people against soldiers’ bullets. Still, he was almost glad for the diversion. He had all the more reason now to go see his grandmother, to leave Guthrie and Allyson Mills. This time he really, really was not going to come back.
Allyson studied the lovely hat she had spotted in the window of Jacobsen’s Millinery. She stepped inside and walked over to the window, looking at it even more closely, taking it from its stand. “I’d like to try this on, Mrs. Jacobsen,” she told the owner. “And maybe this—”
Her words caught in her throat when she saw a man who had stopped near the window to light a cigar. He took a couple of puffs and looked up the street, glancing into the window for a moment, but did not notice her. Allyson, however, could not help noticing him. She stepped back, her heart pounding, afraid he would see her.
“Mrs. Mills? What’s wrong? You look pale,” Mrs. Jacobsen said gently.
Allyson looked at the woman, struggling to keep her composure. “I…I do feel a little ill, but I think I’ll be all right. I’d like to take this hat in front of the mirror in your dressing room, if you don’t mind.”
“Certainly.”
Allyson followed the woman into the small room at the back of the store, where she was out of sight. “I’ll just be a moment. I’d like to try it on alone.”
Mrs. Jacobsen smiled. “Do you need a glass of water or anything?”
“No. I’m fine.”
“Well, that lovely green hat will look beautiful on that red hair, Mrs. Mills. You be sure to come out and show it to me when you have it the way you want.”
“Thank you.”
The woman left, and Allyson wilted into the chair in front of a dressing table. She looked into the mirror at a freckled face and blue eyes and red hair. She had not changed all that much over the past year, except for the way she dressed and carried herself. Henry Bartel would recognize her in a minute, and with a business like hers and her name splattered all over the front of the building, how long could it be before he came there for a meal and figured out who the owner was—or ran into her in the street?
She breathed deeply to quell her growing panic, suddenly wishing Ethan would get back but not sure what difference it would make. Henry Bartel! What was he doing here in Guthrie? Was it just by chance, or had he tracked her here? Either way, there would be hell to pay if he found her.
12
Allyson wiped her hands on her apron and hurried through the restaurant and down the hallway toward Ethan’s room, leaving the kitchen help to continue with the evening rush. She had something more important to attend to, and she was not taking the time to wash and change first. Ethan was not the type of man who cared if a woman looked a little frazzled or had flour dust on her face. If she was going to convince him she loved him and wanted to marry him, she had to start right away. It was the only way she could think of to hang on to her business, and one thing she was sure of about Ethan was that wealth meant little to him. He was the only man she could trust not to try to take over her business—he knew what it meant to her.
&nb
sp; Why had Henry Bartel come to Guthrie, of all places? Just for the excitement, he says, and to get away from the noise and filth of the big city, Jack Carter had told her. She had spotted Henry again after leaving the millinery shop two days ago and had followed him, being careful not to let him see her. He had gone into the newspaper office, and after nearly an hour had finally left. Allyson had gone inside then to ask Jack, the newspaper owner, who it was who had just been there.
Oh, that’s a new teacher come to town! Carter had answered, very pleased that Mr. Henry Bartel, a former teacher and attendant at a New York orphanage, had come to Guthrie to inquire about starting a new school. Mr. Bartel will be a fine addition to our community! he had added. I am going to put an article in the paper about him, letting people know the man intends to start a school. He’ll be using the church for a while at first, until we can get a real school built. I’m sure there will be a town meeting about it.
So, Henry Bartel had come to Guthrie to stay! It was the last thing Allyson had wanted to hear. If he hadn’t seen the crowds at Arkansas City and gotten caught up in the excitement of the land rush when he came out here on that orphan train, he probably never would have left the orphanage…or had he already been out here for months, searching for Toby and Allyson Mills, two runaways who had stolen money from him? Maybe that was what had brought him back. Then maybe he had given up the search and decided to settle in Guthrie. There could be another reason for his presence. Maybe he had gotten in trouble again at the orphanage and was kicked out. It made her sick that such an evil man would be teaching children. Maybe she should say something, but she feared that no one would believe her word against his. She could lose everything.
Whatever the reason for Bartel’s being in Guthrie, he was bound to discover her any day now. She was too well-known for him not to find her. He might even come to her restaurant to eat!
Unforgettable Page 16
