Summer Moon

by Jill Marie Landis

  She washed her face and hands in the trickle of water. Kneeling in the dirt beside the stream, she blessed Charm for convincing her to wear pants. A dress never would have survived.

  Pushing herself up, she walked to where Reed held the horses, watching her. His deep-set eyes never betrayed his thoughts, but today there was something in them that made her blush. Though she could not define it, she felt it. Every so often she caught him looking at her in ways he never had before.

  She found herself thinking about last night and the hint of tenderness, a certain closeness, between them.

  He held her horse while she hooked her foot in the stirrup and then settled in the saddle. She admired his easy grace as he mounted up. Soon they were clearing a gentle rise that brought them out of the creek bottom.

  Then, without warning, Reed suddenly pulled rein. His horse danced back into hers. Kate tightened her grip on the reins and held the little mare steady. When she looked over at Reed, he was staring off into the distance. His face slowly drained of color.

  Terror gripped her hard. The realization of where they were and what they were doing came slamming back. “What is it? Reed? What’s happening?”

  Suddenly she was all too aware of the heavy gunbelt she had tried to ignore. Black smoke billowed up from the ground, snaked like separate writhing arms against the sky. The usual stillness was broken by the popping sound of gunfire.

  “Get back down into the gully and wait for me by the creek.”

  Was her heart trying to shatter her rib cage? “Are you insane?”

  He edged his horse close enough to grab her arm and forced her to look into his eyes. “Calm down, Kate, and listen to me. There are no settlers this far out. That has to be an encampment going up in smoke. That has to be where Daniel was headed. I’ve got to get to him before . . . before anything happens.”

  Though his hand had tightened on her arm, she was numb to everything but fear. “I can’t stay here. I won’t.” She would die of fright before anything else. It was better to face the unknown than to wait for it to find her.

  “The army or the Rangers are trying to drive the Comanche out. I’ll be looking for Daniel. I can’t be worried about you, too.”

  Comanche. So close. Suddenly she was too scared to cry. “Go.” She croaked the word, her throat so tight she could barely speak. “Go after him.”

  “You’ll wait here? Promise?”

  “Go!” She wasn’t about to wait. She couldn’t bear not knowing what had become of him, not knowing if the Comanche were about to come upon her in their flight, but she couldn’t tell him that. Not now. Not when Daniel might be in danger.

  “Get down in the gully.” He wasn’t about to leave before she did.

  She turned her mare and started down, but then stopped to watch him spur his horse and ride toward the distinct patches of billowing smoke. Just in the last few seconds, more and more fires had bloomed on the horizon.

  Unable to look away, she watched Reed ride toward the inferno.

  Reed did not have to see what was happening to know that he was riding into hell.

  He leaned over his horse’s neck and spurred it on, knowing the raid would be over within minutes, yet each and every one of those minutes would seem like a lifetime to those involved in the conflict.

  He was still too far away to hear more than gunfire, but the sound of battle was etched in his memory. Screams of humans and horses, babies bawling, men shouting orders. The smell of fear and death that tainted every thought.

  Common sense, fairness, even sanity withered in battle. On both sides, brutality reigned until the dust cleared and the living were left to count the dead. Reed pictured Daniel in the midst of the confusion and hoped to God that he wasn’t too late.

  40

  It was all over by the time Reed rode in.

  Here and there bursts of gunshots tolled as the army rounded up the survivors and killed off the last of the resisters.

  He recognized Capt. John Davis, out of Fort Sill. The veteran officer had been stationed in Texas ever since the war. As Reed rode up, Davis was twisting the waxed end of his long, dark mustache, thoughtfully surveying the smoking remains of a small Comanche clan’s camp-site. They exchanged greetings from horseback.

  “What are you doing here, Benton?” Before Reed could answer, Davis went on. “We were out on reconnaissance and came across them just after dawn. I decided to round these people up and take them back to the reservation.”

  Reed stared at the carnage. “Looks like you did a little more than that.”

  “Yeah, well, that happens. Damn Comanche have been taking captives right and left lately, turning them in for rewards. They’re even bringing in scalps and demanding payment. How in the hell am I supposed to tell my men not to avenge the lice-ridden, battered children and women who’ve been tortured and then returned?”

  Davis’s men weren’t his concern. “I’m here looking for my son.”

  The captain stared at him long and hard, then shrugged with grave doubt in his eyes. “I hope you find him.”

  Reed worked his way slowly through the camp, guiding his horse past knots of Comanche prisoners, ignoring the sullen stares of some, the hopelessness in the eyes of others. Most were women and children and a few old men. They would be marched back to Fort Sill, which they would no doubt leave again as soon as they could.

  His hope of finding Daniel alive sank with every prisoner he passed, every twisted, maimed body he saw bleeding in the dirt. Pausing beside a fallen cavalry horse, he gazed through the smoking ruins. His gut clenched. A few feet away, facedown, lay the body of a child.

  His mind emptied like a broken pitcher. He slowly dismounted and led his horse toward the body. The world narrowed down to the boy lying there with arms outstretched, his cheek pressed against the earth. Reed did not start breathing again until he realized the boy’s hair was waist length. He remembered the weight of Daniel’s long, shining hair in his hand.

  Rubbing his hand over his eyes, he let go a ragged sigh and turned, willing Daniel to be alive. Suddenly the hair on the back of his neck stood up. A strange sense of knowing settled over him. With it came a quiet calm as he stood beside the dead child. He turned full circle.

  Smoke drifted like fog, then slowly cleared.

  He saw him then. His son. Daniel was sitting on littered ground not far away, staring into the distance. His expression was as empty as a blank page.

  As Reed started toward him, he began to take in the entire scene and realized Daniel was not alone. A young woman lay beside him, her buckskin clothing riddled with crimson-stained bullet holes. As he walked toward his son, he saw the boy lift the woman’s lifeless hand and cradle it tenderly before he pressed it to his cheek. When he let go, the woman’s arm fell limply back to the ground. Daniel sat there stroking her raggedly hacked hair over and over, his eyes vacant, his soul empty.

  When Reed reached him, he hunkered down on his heels. He was afraid Daniel might run until he saw the emptiness in his eyes. For a time at least, Daniel’s mind had sought refuge deep inside itself, his emotions deadened by all he had seen, by the death of the woman he had called mother.

  Though he ached to do so, Reed did not immediately reach for him. He merely squatted beside Daniel until he could not stand the pitiful, utterly lost look on the boy’s face any longer.

  “Daniel? Come on, son. Let me take you home.”

  Kate wished she had listened to Reed. Wished she had waited in the gully the way he had asked.

  Instead, when the shooting had finally stopped, she rode toward the smoking remains of the Comanche settlement.

  Two minutes after she arrived, she vomited.

  Death as she knew it had always been something quiet and serene. She had attended more than her share of funerals at Saint Perpetua’s because the girls’ choir sang at every funeral Mass. Death meant the pungent scent of incense in the old church. Hymns. Chants. Flickering candles.

  A quiet slipping away of life.
A journey to the next world.

  Here, where blood seeped into the Texas prairie, death was brutal, cold, and ugly. Something not caused by disease or old age, but something horrible done to one man by another. And not only to men, but to women and children, young and old alike.

  One or two of the army enlisted men noticed her, but dressed as she was in the baggy pants with the oversize poke bonnet hiding her face, they did not give her a second glance, except perhaps as an oddity. The rest of the troop had its hands full with the prisoners.

  She asked one young man if he had seen a civilian among them, praying that Reed had not been wounded or killed during the skirmish. He pointed toward the center of the camp.

  Smoke was heaviest there and stung her eyes. She raised her fist to wipe away tears. As she lowered her hand, she saw Reed kneeling beside a fallen woman. Kate nudged the mare forward.

  Daniel was sitting on the ground in front of Reed, un-moving as he stared with unseeing eyes at a point in the distance. His fingers were threaded through the fallen woman’s hair.

  She stopped her horse, slid off, and leaned against the mare, oddly taking comfort in the solid feel and warmth of the big animal.

  Her first inclination was to go to Daniel and see if he would respond to her, but Reed was speaking softly to him. If they were to become father and son again, she had to let Reed have this moment. She prayed he would succeed.

  Finally, Reed reached out for Daniel and slipped his hands beneath the boy’s arms. Daniel did not protest when Reed stood and held him close against his shoulder. Reed closed his eyes and embraced Daniel, one hand protectively pressed against the boy’s back.

  She gave them time alone before she finally led the mare over. “Reed?” she said softly.

  He turned slowly. If he was surprised or angry to see her there, he gave no indication.

  “Is he hurt?”

  “His heart is broken.” He looked toward the fallen woman. “She must have been his mother.”

  Kate could not bear to do more than glance down, take in the blood-soaked buckskin and long dark hair. She did not have to see more. As it was, she might have nightmares of this day for eternity.

  Daniel stayed in Reed’s arms, his head on the man’s shoulder.

  “Mount up, Kate. I want you to hold him. There’s something I need to do.”

  She did as he asked without question; then Reed walked over to the mare and handed the boy up to her. Daniel had no more life than a rag doll. She pressed him against her, tightened her arm around his waist, and negotiated the reins.

  Reed went back to his own horse, untied the rawhide strips that held his bedroll behind his saddle, shook out the striped blanket, and covered the Comanche woman with it. Then he gently rolled her over and tucked the blanket around her entire body.

  To Kate’s amazement, he tenderly lifted the woman’s shrouded form and carried it over to his horse where he draped her across his saddle.

  Daniel had not stirred since Reed set him up in front of Kate. She continued to hold him close, hoping that her love and caring might translate itself through touch. As Reed began to lead his horse toward the outskirts of the camp, Kate slowly followed on the mare.

  They traveled away from the smell of smoke and the sound of soldiers barking orders, back to the gully where Reed had told Kate to wait. Once there, he took Daniel’s Comanche mother off his horse and gently laid her body on the bank above the creek bed.

  When he pulled open the edges of the blanket, exposing her face and neck, Kate looked away. A few seconds later he had the blanket secured again.

  As Kate sat there holding Daniel against her, she was amazed at the time and care Reed took to dig out a shallow grave with little more than his bare hands and a flat rock. After he had positioned the woman’s body, he gathered more rocks from along the streambed until the grave was well covered and safe from animals.

  Reed remained beside the cairn with his head bowed. Deeply moved by what he had done, inspired by such a giving gesture toward the woman who had cared for his son, Kate whispered a silent prayer of her own.

  Moments later, Reed mounted up and walked his horse over to her mare.

  “I’ll take him now,” he said. “It’s time to go home.”

  He reached for Daniel. Again, the boy was indifferent to whatever they did. Her heart melted as she watched the big man tuck the boy in front of him and cradle him so tenderly.

  If she had not witnessed what Reed had done this afternoon, the care he had taken with the Comanche woman and his gentleness with his son, she would not have believed him capable of it.

  She tucked the memory away in order to concentrate on the journey ahead. The sky was still clear, the air surprisingly calm as they turned their mounts toward Lone Star.

  A few miles later she spotted the white Andalusian on a rise, magnificent, like a fanciful cloud against the deep blue sky. Reed said he thought the animal was heading back, guided by instinct. He gave a sharp whistle, and although the horse did not come any closer, it followed at a distance all the way home.

  41

  Filthy, hungry, and silently thoughtful, Kate and Reed had been gone four and a half days by the time they rode into the corral area behind Benton House. Daniel had not spoken a word or made a sound. Nor had he cried. He had escaped to a place where hurt could not touch him anymore.

  Scrappy hurried out of the kitchen door to take their horses. When he saw Daniel, the disconcerted expression on his face lightened, but not entirely. “You have any trouble?” he wanted to know.

  Reed shook his head.

  “Give you much of a fight, did he?” Scrappy studied Daniel carefully.

  “None,” Reed said.

  “He don’t look so good. Is he all right in the head?” Reed quickly explained that Daniel had reached the camp and he and Kate had gotten to him shortly after an army raid on the small village and that his mother had been killed.

  Scrappy shook his head, muttering something about Daniel being too young to have had such a passel of trouble in his life.

  Kate couldn’t have agreed more.

  “Glad the boy’s back,” Scrappy grudgingly admitted. “Thought after you found him that life could get back to normal around here, but that ain’t gonna happen any time soon.”

  “What do you mean?” Reed shifted Daniel on his shoulder.

  “Preacher’s here. Brought bad news about Captain Taylor.”

  “Oh, no,” Kate groaned. “Not Jonah!”

  Reed cursed and quickly shot Kate an apologetic shrug. “What happened? Is he alive?”

  Scrappy bobbed his head. “He’s alive. Took a bullet when the regiment went after a bunch of rustlers made up to look like Comanch’. Seems like ever’thin’s going to hell around here this summer. Damned if it don’t.” Without further explanation, he led the horses off toward the barn.

  Bone tired, sick with worry over how Charm must be taking the news, Kate trailed Reed across the veranda.

  Inside the kitchen they found Charm crying at the table. Preston was there, too, sitting beside her, encouraging her in low, even tones. The minute they walked in, he stood and went directly to Kate. Reed pulled out a chair and sat Daniel down.

  In her concern for Charm and Jonah, Kate had not thought of what Preston must think about her traveling alone with Reed. When the minister took his time noting her curious garb, she could only guess what he must be thinking. She tugged the ribbons on the poke bonnet, pulled it off, and set it aside. Before she could say anything, Reed asked Preston about Jonah. Kate hurried over to Charm and put her arm around her.

  “He was tracking down some rustlers near Fort Griffin when he was wounded.”

  “How bad?”

  “Enough that they brought him in to Lone Star yesterday. That’s where he wanted to be. I knew the two of you were good friends and that you would want to know.”

  “Thanks.” Reed’s fingers pressed into the back of Daniel’s chair, his knuckles white. “I appreciate it.”<
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  Kate hugged Charm tight. “Go to him,” she urged softly. “We’ll manage here.”

  “Do you think I should?” The girl wiped her tears with a checkered napkin.

  “You have to. If you don’t, you’ll never forgive yourself.”

  Charm threw her arms around Kate’s neck, and Kate whispered, “If he proposes to you again, promise me you will say yes. If . . . if his life is in danger, it might keep him alive.”

  Charm’s breath caught on a sob, then she whispered back, “I will.”

  Kate straightened and looked to Preston for help. “Will you please take Charm into Lone Star? She needs to be with Jonah. I think she can do more for him than any of us.” She turned to Reed. “Besides, we can’t leave Daniel right now.”

  After the slightest hesitation, Preston agreed.

  Charm finally pulled herself together enough to stand, her eyes swollen from crying, her nose red. “I’ll just go up and pack a few things, Reverend. I’ll be right back,” she promised.

  As she hurried away, Reed took Daniel’s hand. Kate was surprised to see the boy walking alone. She noticed, too, that he was barely limping and realized that he must have been fooling them for quite some time. Like a phantom, he followed Reed to the hall door.

  “I’ll get him to bed,” Reed told her.

  “I’ll be right up.” She could tell by the way Preston was lingering near the back door that he wanted to speak to her alone.

  As soon as Reed was out of hearing, she walked over to the sink and pumped a glass of water. Taking a few sips eased her dry throat, but not her mounting agitation.

  When Preston took her hand, her jitters multiplied.

  “How are you holding up, Kate? You look exhausted.”

  “I am.” There was no use dancing around the bald truth. “We were gone four days.”

  “Are you all right?” Preston studied her closely, searching for the truth in her eyes.