It Takes a Man

by Cheryl Pierson

  “How was your journey?” Josie asked.

  Austen nodded as he wiped his mouth. “It was good. Too long away from you, though.”

  She blushed, turning to look at Derrick. “And what of you, Derrick? What has happened since you left us so many years ago?”

  He looked up, wondering how to answer that. He’d been packed up and taken from a whole other family that belonged to him; only, he hadn’t known it at the time. He’d been cheated of so much.

  “I—uh—finished my schooling, of course.”

  “Of course.” Josie turned to Leah. “Derrick’s fath—Mr. McCain was the headmaster at the Cherokee school here,” she explained.

  “I see.” Leah took a sip of water from her cup and set it back upon the table.

  “And then, when—my father was murdered by a band of damn Jayhawkers, I felt I needed to go off to war and fight for the Confederacy like my brothers, Benton and Eli. All I could think of was revenge.”

  “Vengeance for the Bluecoats, you mean?” Leah asked. “Because your family were Southern sympathizers?

  Derrick gave a short laugh. “No. More for finding those men that killed my father. But I fell in with a group I…would’ve been better off without.”

  “A gang?” Leah questioned with interest. “One of those groups of border outlaws?”

  Derrick nodded, then took another bite of stew, trying to think of how to reply to that. The censure in her tone said he had sunk as low as those who had murdered Andrew McCain in cold blood. He had not ever done that. Somehow, he’s always managed to keep that part of his conscience clean—almost, finally, at the cost of his own life. The men he’d killed had needed it.

  Conversation fell silent. Derrick looked up into Leah’s steady black-eyed gaze. “I’ve killed. I’ve had to. But the men who died by my hand were out to kill me and the men I fought with, ma’am. That’s how war is.”

  “And…afterward? The border raiders you joined—weren’t they the same type of men who killed your father?” There was a hint of challenge in her voice.

  Derrick answered it swiftly. She had no idea what it had taken from him to ride with those men, and how it had nearly cost him everything. “Yeah. Nearly got killed myself when I refused to do what you’re talkin’ about.”

  “Derrick healed up and came back to Wolf Creek to take care of the farm,” Austen put in quickly, steering the conversation back to safer ground. “When some of those men showed up and raided the town, he joined the posse to go after them.”

  “What happened?” Josie exclaimed.

  “We got most of ’em,” Derrick said. He would’ve left it at that, but Austen spoke up again.

  “One of them got away and got a new gang together. They kidnapped Kathleen.”

  Josie gasped, glancing at her cousin. “Derrick’s sister,” she said, in quick explanation.

  Leah leaned forward. “Did you—were you able to rescue her?”

  Derrick smiled, pushing his chair away from the table. “Yeah. We got her back.”

  “They are wicked, cruel men.” Leah put her hand to her throat. “I’m so glad she wasn’t harmed. Or you, either.”

  No need to correct that misconception.

  Josie said, “Derrick, I’m sorry about the deaths of your—of Mr. McCain and your brothers.”

  Derrick nodded. “Thank you. You know, I wasn’t close to them, but still…” His voice trailed off and he looked away. “I suppose it’s anybody’s guess as to why Collin Ridge has asked to see my mother and me after all this time.” He watched each of them closely. There was a flicker in Austen’s eyes before he glanced down. Derrick went on. “Aside from the fact that he’s dying.”

  “Come, Leah, let’s wash up these dishes.” Josie stood abruptly, and reluctantly, Leah followed. It was clear this was a conversation for the men alone, one she did not want to miss.

  “Let’s go outside,” Austen said.

  “Papa—” Sarah started.

  Austen knelt and gave his daughter a quick kiss. “You wait for me. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  She nodded and turned away.

  Derrick walked to the door, waiting for Austen. A shot of envy went through him, unfamiliar and surprising in its intensity. He’d never wanted children. But ever since he’d come here with Austen, he’d gotten a feeling of coming home. And the closeness between Austen and his family set up a yearning in Derrick that he’d never acknowledged before. It played on the hurt that had been an open wound all his life between his ‘father’ and him; the constant feeling of not fitting anywhere within his own family. Once again, his life was in turmoil. It seemed he was doomed either to be courting death or dying slowly of the boredom of a routine he despised. Farming was not what he’d expected from his life.

  But…what did he want? Surely not the solitary existence he’d led as a young boy, feeling separated somehow from everyone and everything. Not the rigors he’d set out for when he’d joined the Confederacy, and certainly not the harshness he’d fallen into with Jim Danby’s raiders.

  Still, going back to Wolf Creek and trying to take over the farm and make a go of it had been excruciating in its sameness. If he knew anything, he knew he wasn’t a farmer. And seeing Austen with his family made Derrick more aware than ever that his life was most likely half over, and he had not one damn thing to show for it.

  He opened the door with a little more force than was necessary, drawing a raised eyebrow from his old friend as he followed Derrick out onto the porch.

  “Walk with me,” Austen said in a firm tone. They started down toward the gentle slope of the nearby branch of Boggy River, where they had all played as youngsters.

  After a moment, Austen spoke. “You need to find your balance.”

  Derrick smiled, thinking of another friend—Charley Blackfeather—who often spoke of balance. “Easier said than done.”

  Austen nodded. “Yes, and especially hard for you, being a half-breed, one foot in our culture and one in the Anglo world. This was something your mother should have told you long ago.”

  “It must have been a terrible shame to her,” Derrick muttered. “That’s the only reason I can think of that she didn’t.”

  Austen’s look was almost pitying as he stopped a few feet from the rushing water. “Truly? The only reason?”

  “What else?”

  “A terrible love, Derrick. Did you ever think that maybe she tried to forget Ridge? Because she had to leave him behind?”

  “No,” Derrick answered flatly.

  “That’s because you’ve never had that kind of feeling for another. If you had,” Austen went on, “—you would understand.” His gaze was steady, until finally Derrick turned away.

  “Why not tell me, though?”

  “Because then you would have had a choice. How could a mother choose among her children? That’s why she went when your father decided to go. To arm you with the truth would have given you the power to have broken up the family…don’t you see?”

  Derrick gave a short laugh, turning back to face his friend. “I’m trying, Austen. But what keeps hitting me in the face is the memory of me leaving here; everything I ever knew. Leaving Carson behind—my best friend, and my brother.”

  “The past was made for you before. Now, it’s up to you to choose it.”

  Derrick nodded. “I want to see my father.”

  “He’ll send for you when—”

  “No. I’m not going to see the statesman, Collin Ridge. I’m going to see my father.”

  ****

  Twilight had fallen and was on the way to complete darkness as Derrick made his way down the street.

  The houses clustered respectably together for most of the length of the rutted dirt road, then gave way to the businesses and finally, the saloon. The music and laughter spilled out at the end of the street, but Derrick wasn’t going that far.

  He stopped in front of the cabin where he’d left his mother earlier. Two kerosene lamps hung on either side of the
door. Odd, how such a tiny bit of light could seem so welcoming.

  From inside, there was a soft glow in most of the front rooms. He slowly walked up the front steps, and raised his hand to knock. Before he could, the bolt slid back from inside, and the door swung open.

  He recognized another of Carson’s sisters, Talita, the eldest. She smiled broadly, and he stepped forward to hug her.

  “Welcome home, Derrick,” she said softly.

  As she stepped back to look at him, he saw the uncertainty in her face.

  “It’s good to be here, sister.”

  She hugged him again. “I’m so glad—” She broke off, as if she were afraid of saying too much.

  “Where is my father?” he asked bluntly.

  “He and your mother are in here.” She shut the door and turned to lead him across the front room and down a small hallway, pausing to knock at the first door they came to.

  “Father, you have a visitor,” she called out in Cherokee.

  “Send him in,” a deep voice answered.

  Derrick opened the door, leaving it ajar behind him. His mother rose quickly from her chair beside the bed.

  “Derrick—”

  “Leave us, please,” he said, his eyes connecting with his father’s.

  “But—”

  “I need some answers. I intend to get them.”

  Ridge motioned her out. “He’s right, Fiona. It’s past time for this.”

  Silently, she walked to the door, closing it behind her with a quiet ‘click.’

  Derrick hesitated a moment, unsure of his next move. He tried to tamp down the happiness he felt at seeing his father—especially now that the truth was known between them.

  Ridge smiled at him, looking much the same as he had seventeen years earlier, his dark eyes a mirror image of Derrick’s own.

  Collin Ridge looked remarkably healthy—for a man who was dying. Suspicion niggled at the back of Derrick’s mind. What, exactly, was wrong with his father? He took a step forward as Ridge shifted in the bed to a more upright position.

  “Please,” his father indicated the chair with a sweeping motion of his hand. “Sit down.”

  After a moment, Derrick took the chair Fiona had just vacated. “Are you tired, e do da?”

  Ridge’s eyes crinkled. “You ask of my health, as you call me ‘Father’ for the first time.” He scrutinized Derrick before continuing. “I had thought to be met with your anger.”

  Derrick shook his head. “I’m disappointed.”

  Ridge nodded. “I know. I’ve lived with disappointment—and loss—as well. My family has been incomplete. At least, when you lived among us, I saw you often. When your mother’s husband realized what had happened, there was no choice for your mother. To stay with me would mean leaving your brothers and sister. The only way to keep you all together was to move with him when he left for Kansas.”

  “I understand that. But what I don’t understand is why she never told me.”

  Ridge laughed. “Perhaps she believed you’d be happier not knowing.”

  As his father’s meaning hit him, Derrick shook his head. “She wasn’t ashamed of what happened between you.” He didn’t want to betray his sister to his mother, but things had to be dealt with. “Between us?”

  Ridge nodded. “Of course. It goes no farther than these walls.”

  “All right. My sister, Kathleen, found a letter Ma had written to you; she—she always loved you.”

  “I know that, son. I only meant—maybe your mother sought to ease the way for you in the white world by keeping your Cherokee blood from you.” A faint grin curved his lips. “Though I don’t know how she thought to hide it from you forever. You and Carson look so much alike. You and I—” He shook his head. “I would have known you anywhere. You remind me of myself—many years ago.”

  Derrick was quiet. Then, “I’ve lost so much. So many years—”

  “We all have, Derrick. But now is the time to change that and to move forward.”

  “Now that you’re—sick?” He couldn’t say dying; to do so would allow death entry to his thoughts more strongly.

  “I’m feeling better, son. Just having you and your mother here with me—it’s helping.”

  Derrick’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve seen a lot of dying men. You’re not too near death’s door.”

  Ridge smiled. “Again, that’s a matter that will remain between you and me, Derrick. I’m going to make a …full recovery…with time. You know how women like to fuss. I will not let her worry, but we need this time together.”

  Derrick didn’t say anything.

  “Your mother would not have come if I but asked her. And you—” He shifted in the bed. “Why haven’t you come before now? Carson told me he’d seen you months ago—that you now knew the full story—”

  Derrick shook his head. “Not all of it.”

  “Enough to have come before now.” Ridge’s words were chiding, but Derrick didn’t take offense.

  “I’ve thought of it—time and again. To discover that you are my father—that Carson is not only my childhood friend, but also my brother—and that I have two sisters, as well…” He wasn’t sure how to continue. He looked down, studying the floor. “I’ve done some bad things in my life, e do da.”

  Ridge moved to sit up on the edge of the bed, facing Derrick. “We all have regrets, Derrick. Can you imagine how I felt, having to allow Andrew McCain to raise my son? Oh, yes, Andrew was a well-respected man in the community. He was educated. But the way he raised you and your brothers, your sister—with an iron fist—the way he tried to control your mother—Still,” he went on after a moment, “it takes a man to raise another man’s son. And there was no doubt you were my son. It was…very plain to see. Things would have been different, had your mother and I been free to follow our hearts.”

  “I left, first chance I got.”

  Ridge gave Derrick a thin smile. “I know. You were loyal to the man you thought was your father. He must have done something right, raising you, to instill that in your heart. I know he didn’t treat you well, son. It takes a man to raise another man’s son—but I should have added, ‘with kindness in his heart, no matter the circumstances.’”

  Derrick shrugged. “Didn’t seem like much of that in him at all—at least, not toward me.”

  Ridge looked away. “You were the son of the man he thought would steal his wife away. Not that he loved her. She was a habit with him by the time you were conceived. Just property, in a way. Even though your mother was aware of that, she knew she must go with him to keep the family together.”

  “But later—”

  “Fiona had no choice but to stay where she was, by then, in a white community. She was a widowed white woman with a white daughter. It was too late for her to come back here, she felt. She has sacrificed everything in her life for her children, Derrick. Don’t think too harshly of her.”

  Derrick didn’t respond. Had he known sooner, his life might have been different…but would it have been better? He would forever be neither white nor Cherokee. It was almost worse to know for certain that he carried Indian blood. He thought of Austen and Josie and their life together. Being a half-breed meant that kind of happiness could never be his. Not that he cared, he told himself. But still, his thoughts returned to Leah, and the way she’d looked at him from across the dinner table earlier. The way she’d looked at him when he’d talked about joining up with Danby’s men. The coldness in her voice.

  “I’m offering Fiona a chance at a new life, Derrick,” Ridge said quietly. He reached for the shirt that lay at the foot of the bed, pulling it on. “I want her to stay here with me. And I want your support in that.”

  Derrick’s head came up. “Surely, at this point, you know she does whatever she wants.”

  “Except in the matter of protecting her children. Then, she does what she must for you…for your sister…with no thought to herself. I’m hoping she’ll stay. I’ve always loved her, too, you know.” He smiled. “
It takes a man to admit that to the world…to let go of his self-pride, and put only his love for his woman to the fore of his existence, no matter the circumstances.”

  “You had a family—a wife. That would have been impossible.”

  “Nothing is impossible, son, if you want it badly enough. But, as I say, it takes a man to see that it all comes right. Now that your mother has no responsibilities for her family, I hope she’ll see the time has come to fulfill her own happiness.”

  His father had said some things that had opened his eyes, but all this talk of emotions and the impending changes made him restless. He wanted nothing more than to be outside under the stars. The river called to him. It was the best place to think. “I…need to go,” he said after a moment.

  His father stood slowly, giving him a long stare. “It is a lot to take in all at once.” He changed the subject abruptly. “You have met Josie’s cousin, Leah?”

  Derrick smiled. “At dinner.”

  His father quirked a brow at his tone.

  Derrick gave a short laugh. “Oh, no. Not interested. That is one strong-willed female.”

  Ridge shrugged. “It is just as well.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Love is too…complicated…for some to understand or embrace. Leah has been hurt badly.”

  Derrick braced a hand on the wall as his father sat once more on the edge of the bed, reaching for one of his moccasins.

  “I imagine we’ve all suffered our losses at some point,” Derrick said. “You and Ma—”

  “No, this is different. Be kind to her, son.” There was a stern tone in Ridge’s voice. A warning.

  Derrick’s head came up swiftly, meeting his father’s gaze. “Why? What are you getting at?”

  “The men you chased…one of them took advantage of Leah. Her family has not stood by her. Her father, I have never liked. Now, even less.”

  Derrick pushed away from the support of the wall, standing straight. No wonder he’d detected something more in her questioning at the dinner table. “Raped her? But, how did he get close enough…I mean—”