by Sandi Rog
She’d experienced enough adventure to last a lifetime. Her thoughts turned to when he had said those same words on the day of their wedding.
Their wedding. She was married to a kidnapper and a thief. Her stomach turned, and she thought she might be ill.
Lord, help me. What should I do?
Chapter Twenty
“‘Just like a woman not to be dependable,’ indeed.” Anna said in a huff as she left the board of education office.
Jack had been waiting for her outside and joined her as she marched down the walkway. “What’d they say?”
“They revoked my position.”
“Did you tell them what happened?”
“No, I couldn’t.”
Jack nodded with understanding as he escorted her down the street.
Of course she couldn’t tell the education board what had delayed her. She didn’t want to give those poor Indians a bad reputation, or a worse one than what they already had.
How she wanted to strangle that man in the education office. How dare he look down on her because she was a woman. Yet who didn’t look down on women? Even Jack didn’t think she was strong enough to handle the truth about White Eagle. It seemed all she had worked so hard for had vanished. It all went up into a puff of smoke the day White Eagle abducted her.
She took a calming breath. She’d secretly hoped they would offer her another teaching position, but even that wasn’t an option. If the railroad hadn’t been completed, they’d still be desperate for teachers and she’d probably have a job, but now that people swarmed to Denver City, all the positions were taken. Really, they had every right not to consider her dependable, especially since she wasn’t willing to explain her delay.
It was time to move on. And that did not involve living under White Eagle’s rule in his fancy hotel. She would find work again. She’d make her plans just like she did when she was back in New York. Anger boiled towards White Eagle. She wouldn’t be in this fix if it weren’t for him. Then her thoughts knocked her upside the head. She wouldn’t be alive had it not been for him. Was he aware that he saved her life? Those poor children. Why didn’t he save them too? She leaned against the wall of a shop to steady herself, trying to erase the thoughts from her mind. She had to move on, and she couldn’t afford to start crying if she were to find a job.
Jack watched her closely, as he always did. She gave him a waning smile to keep him from worrying. She couldn’t tell him about her plans. He might put an end to them.
No time like the present. She lifted her chin. “I feel like shopping,” she said with forced enthusiasm. Guilt pricked her conscience for deceiving Jack, but at the same time, wasn’t he keeping secrets? He plodded along, obviously not enthused about the idea of going on a shopping spree. Still, she headed down the street into the nearest store.
“I’ll just wait here,” Jack said, leaning against the shop wall.
Anna nodded and entered the store. Dry goods were piled high on tables, and they drew her attention to the calico fabrics. How she would love to make a dress in those lovely patterns.
“May I help you?” a young woman asked, standing behind a long counter.
“Yes, I’m looking for work. Would you happen to need an extra clerk in your shop?”
“We’re a family business, so I’m afraid we’re not hiring.”
“Thank you for your time.” Anna breathed deeply. This was only her first try. There were several more shops left.
A familiar Indian headdress caught her eye as she turned to leave.
She stopped.
Pieces of jewelry and a long pipe, resembling what she saw at the Cheyenne village, rested on a small shelf.
The woman came to her. “Do you like these?” She picked up a small gold earring, the same size Anna remembered the young children wearing. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Anna’s gaze then fell on three scalps hanging just below the shelf. She went cold, and her heart froze. She stepped back. Someone she knew could have been hanging there on display.
“Ma’am? Are you well?” the woman asked, setting down the child’s gold earring and stepping toward her.
Anna waved her hand to keep the woman from coming too close.
The short, shiny hair on one of the scalps also could have belonged to a child. Runs With Wind flashed through her mind. All the times they shared, playing in the fields and crushing berries. White Eagle and his mother had saved her life, but had she not been spared, it could have been Runs With Wind’s hair and earrings hanging on display.
Gray Feather. What if some of these things, the hair, the earrings belonged to Gray Feather? Yellow Leaf and Song Bird’s only daughter. Anna’s insides turned. Speech failed her. She couldn’t move. It was as though someone had kicked her in the stomach. Where did the Indian pieces come from? She didn’t dare ask.
“I must say,” Anna choked on the words. “I am rather shocked by the display of Indian scalps you have in your store.” She took in a deep breath to steady herself and squared her shoulders. “I can’t imagine hanging up a white man’s scalp and selling it, let alone that of a child.” She met the woman’s gaze having laid emphasis on those last few words.
“Just where are you from?” The woman pursed her lips.
“Holland.” Anna never liked saying she was from New York since she was never supposed to have ended up living there. She forced her chin high, despite the nausea curdling in her stomach.
“Have you never heard of the atrocities committed by the Red Man on settlers?”
“Of course I have.” Not to mention that she could have become another statistic. “I’ve also heard of the atrocities committed by white men against the Indians.”
“Those savages have been a threat to settlers for years.” The woman turned and went into a back room then came out with a box and set it on the counter.
She took out three photos and laid them one by one on the countertop, raised her brow, and motioned toward the pictures.
Anna walked up to the counter.
The photos displayed dead bodies of a white family.
“This,” the woman said as she pointed at one photo, “is Nathan Ward Hungate. And this,” she said again as she pointed at the other two pictures, “is his wife and two children. Those savages murdered them in cold blood.”
Anna stepped back from the pictures. Indians may have killed that family, but not the Indians she knew. Yet hadn’t Running Cloud taken part in murdering settlers?
“This is supposed to make what Chivington’s men did at Sand Creek acceptable?” Anna’s voice trembled.
The woman shifted her stance and deliberately put the photos back in the box. “At least we don’t have to fear them anymore. Now they know if anything like this happens again, they will pay dearly for it.”
“How?” Anna asked, breathless. “By slaughtering women and children?” She pointed to the shorthaired scalp. “Do you realize this was taken from a child? Even that earring had belonged to a child. A young child. Probably no more than three or four.” The room spun as she said the words.
“Nits make lice.” The woman lifted her nose in the air.
“What?” Anna gasped. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Those little maggots will grow up to be one of them. A savage.” She said the word with so much disgust, Anna thought the woman might spit.
How could anyone be so cold? Anna knew about the Sand Creek Massacre, but to hear it first hand from someone who justified the killings made her reel with shock. She stepped back, staring at the woman. Likely her own age, with pretty blonde hair pulled up in a bun. But her beauty somehow faded behind the hate.
The woman turned to put the box back on its shelf in the storage room. “If you’re not going to purchase anything, I suggest you leave.”
Mortified, Anna turned to leave and slammed the door behind her.
Jack straightened. “Didn’t find anything, huh?”
Anna cleared her throat, trying to regain her di
gnity. “We’re just window-shopping today,” she said, wondering how he expected her to buy anything when she was broke.
No wonder White Eagle didn’t want to come to Denver City. She shouldn’t have pressured him into bringing her here. Now she may never see him again. Why would he come to this awful place for her?
“Miss Anna, maybe this ‘window-shopping,’ as you call it, is a bit too much. You look tired.”
“I’m not tired,” Anna said a little too quickly as she straightened and started walking again. She could see by Jack’s expression that he was bored. “Why don’t you go on back to the hotel and I’ll meet you there?”
Jack furrowed his brows. “You know the way back?”
“Of course.” Anna nodded. “I can see you’re not having any fun, and I’m going to be window-shopping for several hours yet.” She placed emphasis on those last words.
Jack frowned then shifted his stance. “Well, maybe you’re right.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “I’ll just meet you back at the hotel.”
“Wonderful,” Anna said, a little too enthusiastically.
Jack tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Back at the hotel,” he said emphasizing each word.
“Yes. Later.” She couldn’t help but feel trapped all over again by the way he spoke to her. What did he think? She was going to run away?
Jack pivoted and ambled down the boardwalk.
As Anna crossed the street, the woman’s hateful words and the Indian earrings and scalps tormented her thoughts. She tried shaking them away by focusing on the streets of Denver. This was her place, her home. She swelled with pride thinking how she had finally made it to Denver City. Yet had it not been for White Eagle’s intervention, she wouldn’t be here at all. She swallowed back her short-lived pride. Besides, was this really the place she wanted to call home? Did she want to remain in a place where they sold human parts for profit?
But she’d dreamed of coming here for six long years. And she’d finally made it. She shouldn’t let a few bad apples take away her joy. Yet those bad apples weren’t just bad, they were rotten, rotten to the core. And their rot could bleed out, infecting all the other apples in the basket.
She found herself at a furniture warehouse. With her education, she could easily handle secretarial skills.
But they weren’t hiring women.
Continuing to look for work, she went from one shop to other. Thank goodness she saw no more displays of Indian scalps, but no one wanted her. Still, determination and desperation spurred her on.
As she walked down the street, the mountain range rose against the horizon in the far distance. It was strange to think she’d just spent the last several months up there in the wild. Yet she had survived. In fact, she had more than survived; she’d discovered a whole new world hidden out there in its depths. She smiled to herself, feeling like she’d had the privilege of taking part in a big secret, which indeed she had.
After several more rejections, she rounded the corner and found herself near the hotel. Denver City was a big place. She wouldn’t lose heart. She still had several more streets that weren’t covered, but by now the heat made her tired, and her stomach growled.
As she came closer to the hotel, she spotted a shop with a sign reading, “Peterson’s Tailoring.” One last try. Besides, she had plenty of sewing experience. When she walked into the store, an older lady sat behind a wide table at the far back of the well-kept shop.
“What can I do for you?” the woman asked, not looking up from her sewing.
“I’m looking for work. I was wondering if you might be hiring?”
The woman looked up. “You got any experience?”
“Plenty. I sewed for three years back in New York City.”
“New York, huh? That’s a long ways from Denver City.” The woman, a small lady with a friendly face, stood from her worktable and walked up to Anna. “As a matter of fact, I am hiring, but I won’t need you for another two weeks yet.”
Anna didn’t know whether to leap for joy or cry.
“My assistant, Barbara, is getting married and she’ll be leaving. She lives upstairs. Will you need a place to stay too? I’ll have a room to rent.”
Anna couldn’t believe her ears. She felt as though she’d stumbled upon gold. “Yes, I’ll need a place to stay.”
“Wonderful. If you prove your worth then you can stay here. The rent is taken out of your pay and we can decide what the appropriate amount will be.” She put her hand out and smiled. “I’m Irene Peterson.”
Anna introduced herself.
“It’s hard to find good help these days.” Mrs. Peterson motioned to a chair and grabbed some material from a nearby table. “Sit down, sit down.”
Anna gratefully took a seat, only then realizing how tired she felt. Her body and limbs felt heavy and the room swayed.
“Oh dear, you look tired. Shall I fetch you some tea?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Anna said, spotting the fruit bowl behind Mrs. Peterson and thinking how juicy those red apples might be.
“Show me what you can do with that sleeve.”
Anna took the fabric and studied the pattern. She recognized what needed to be done and started sewing.
“So, what brings you to Denver City?”
“Work.”
“Not a man, huh?”
Anna giggled. “No, not a man.” For some reason, she felt like she’d just told a lie.
“My husband died a couple of years back,” Mrs. Peterson said, pulling out a chair from one of the sewing tables. “Since then, I’ve had to run the shop all by myself. Business is faring well, and since the Pacific Railroad has been completed from Cheyenne, I’m getting more business. Sometimes I do odd jobs, such as curtain repairs for the hotel. Franck Charvet was a good friend of my husband. It’s a shame they’re both gone now.” She gave a warm pensive smile. “It will be nice to have a young lady like yourself working here.” Her eyes brightened. “I’ll enjoy the company.”
“I’m a hard worker, ma’am,” Anna said, pulling the needle through the fabric.
“Why are you in need of work, dear? Don’t you have family?”
“My parents died when I was young.” Anna glanced up from her work, feeling like it’d been a long time since she’d had a dignified conversation with a civilized person. Mrs. Peterson gave off a motherly air, something Anna missed. It brought Song Bird to mind and the way she’d taken care of Anna. Song Bird combed her hair, made dresses for her, and taught her things—just like a mother would teach her own child. White Eagle was right, both Song Bird and Yellow Leaf had adopted her as their own. Recalling them gave her the same pang she used to get after her father died. What would she do if she never saw them again? Finding work seemed to make things more final, more sure.
She forced her thoughts back to the conversation at hand. “I had a teaching position offered to me, but . . . .” She stiffened in her chair—she had said too much. “Well, you see—”
“What happened, dear?” Mrs. Peterson cocked her head, her brows knitted with concern. “We may have just met, but something tells me that you are not the type to lose a job through any fault of your own.”
Curious how the woman would react to the truth, Anna said, “I was kidnapped by Indians, ma’am.”
“Oh my . . . .” Mrs. Peterson touched her mouth. She then immediately took hold of Anna’s hand. “You poor child. And how did you fare? Were you harmed?”
“They were good people,” Anna said, recalling all her experiences, though Black Bear and Beaver Claws were a different story.
Mrs. Peterson sighed with visible relief. “Still, you must have been quite frightened. I’m sure I would have died of fright.” She squeezed Anna’s hand.
“Actually, in the beginning, I was terrified. I even tried to escape, but they recaptured me,” Anna said, resuming with her sewing.
“And still they didn’t hurt you?”
“No.” It was the first time she received
such a show of sympathy for her abduction. It surprised her. Of course, she had shared the same story with the marshal, but his reaction had been more of a smug, “I told you so,” while Mrs. Peterson seemed genuinely concerned. But more importantly, no hate surfaced in the woman’s eyes.
“They must have been a decent group of Indians, I must say.” The woman cleared her throat. “Except for the fact that they kidnapped you, of course.” She patted Anna’s lap.
Testing the woman, Anna added, “Most Indians are quite decent. I’m sure they would never have begun raiding white settlers and kidnapping women, had we kept the treaties we’d made with them.” Would Mrs. Peterson respond similarly to that hateful woman? She could be risking her new job, but at this point, she’d resigned herself to its loss. She could never work with someone who hated Indians.
“You’re right, dear.” Mrs. Peterson sighed. “And I’m relieved to know you see things that way, despite what’s happened to you.” She shook her head. “And to think, that dreadful massacre had been led by one proclaiming to be a man of God. The name John M. Chivington will always make my stomach turn.” She scooted in closer. “But let me advise you to take care with your words. There are still plenty in Denver City who support what Chivington and his men did. Some, like Silas Soule, who’ve spoken out against what happened, have been murdered right here in the streets.” She shook her head. “Mr. Soule’s poor wife. They’d just gotten married. One morning Mr. Soule walked out the door, and a man shot him.”
Anna’s heart lurched.
“It’s been a blessing to have the former governor, Mr. Evans, make it possible for all the railroads to run to and from Denver City.” Mrs. Peterson’s gaze darted to the windows, as if to see if any listeners might be lurking outdoors. “But his deed toward those trusting Indians at Sand Creek was dastardly.”
Anna hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until she sighed long with relief.
“It’s a shame Mr. Peterson isn’t still around. He would have enjoyed meeting you. He was a friend of the Red Man.”
