Bonds, Parris Afton

by The Flash of the Firefly

  "I'm sorry, Otto ...I mean it must have been horrible ..."

  "You seemed to have fared better than I," he sneered.

  How could she tell him she had scars also? Scars that did not show but were there just the same? "I suppose so," she murmured. She was suddenly tired, utterly tired. Her hopes, her dreams of Colin―of a new life somewhere, anywhere but Texas―were shattered. Like Otto's face. The bones of her legs turned to jelly, and she crumpled on the floor.

  "And Zephaniah said, 'Woe to her who is rebellious and defiled.''' Otto's sonorous intonation reached Anne's ears like the thunderous roaring of the Gulf surf. But the arms that carried her to the bed held her gently.

  "Pay them no heed, Liebe," Matilda said. She stopped at the gate of the short picket fence that surrounded the tiny cemetery and thrust out her cane, blocking Anne's way. "For all our education, ve can sometimes be narrow-minded volks. Ve do not mingle vit the other settlers but keep to our German clans. So ve do not understand. The vomen―and some of the men―they think you should be dead. As dead as Delila and Elise und the others in those , graves there."

  "What you're saying, Matilda, is that they think I should have killed myself―rather than let the Indians take me."

  Anne did not try to keep the bitterness from her voice. For the past three months it had been all she could do to leave the cabin, to face the cold politeness of the neighbors. And now that she had begun to show her pregnancy, she saw the open dislike in their faces ...heard the whispers muttered when she went to the river for water, or attended the sermons at the Vereins-Kirche.

  It gave Anne little satisfaction to see that they had not fared much better than she, to see that the fear of starvation still stared out from their eyes.

  The icy December morning wind whipped about her unbleached cotton cloak, emphasizing her gently rounded stomach, and she frowned, visualizing the hatred that contorted Otto's face each time he glimpsed her protruding belly. It had gotten so she waited until the candle was extinguished before she dressed for bed, removing her clothing in the protection of the darkness. And then she would lie there in silence as heavy as granite, waiting, dreading what would come and so far had not.

  "Vhat I am saying, Liebe, is that you have had all these months to adjust to the changes made in you. Both in your body und your mind. You must give us time to do the same."

  Time, Anne thought, resuming her walk back to the Vereins-Kirche with Matilda, was something she had little of. In less than three months Colin would come for her. Otto did not yet know of her love for Colin, but in three months ...In three months she would have to put an end forever to their love, would have to send Colin away.

  Could she?

  People were beginning to file inside the VereinsKirche for the Sunday services. Anne and Matilda quickened their pace, though walking was awkward for both of them. Professor Bern and Lina were near the front and beckoned to the two women to join them. Anne slid in next to Lina, accepting the old woman's affectionate squeeze of her hand. There were some friends in Adelsolms.

  However, Anne had only to look to her left at the pew in front of hers to find Johanna's furtive, embarrassed glance in her direction before she turned back to Carl. The couple had married the month before Anne had returned to Adelsolms, and now Johanna was also pregnant.

  Anne had never mentioned to anyone, not even Matilda, that Johanna had known that Anne was still alive, still fighting off the Comanches, and had still closed the fort's door on her, denying her safety. Anne had hoped that when Johanna realized she would not reveal her deed, there might be peace between them. But even that small hope went unfulfilled, for at that moment Johanna saw Carl's polite nod to Anne and hissed at him, causing him to flush and fidget with the felt hat he held between his hands.

  A silence fell over the gathering as Otto took his place before the pulpit. In the dimness of the large room his face was an awful sight to gaze upon, but there was still a majesty about his bearing. And Anne overheard the woman behind her tell her small daughter, "Sit still or the Evil One will visit the same on you!"

  "But Mutter, vhat did Reverend Maren do to ..."

  "It vaz his vife―" and the mother broke off, realizing Anne could overhear.

  Otto's sermon picked up where the mother left off, and it was all Anne could do to remain on the bench, stiff-backed, when she wanted to run from the building, to hide her shame. For Otto's words, she knew, were directed at her.

  "Our text today is from the Book of Proverbs, Chapter Five―'For the lips of an adulteress drip honey, and smoother than oil is her speech .But in the end she is bitter as wormwood, sharp as a two-edged sword. Her feet go down to death, Her steps lay hold of Sheol .. .'"

  At last it ended. Anne did not wait for Otto but left the fortress with Matilda. She did not fail to notice that the others moved back as she passed by, as though she were a leper. Even the ancient, toothless Indian wrapped in his gray woolen blanket, who often hung around the settlement waiting for handouts, eyed her suspiciously―or so it seemed to Anne, but she knew she was imagining enemies everywhere.

  "I can't stand it, Matilda, I can't!" she cried, when they were safely away from the others.

  Matilda laid a gnarled hand on Anne's arm. "You vill, you must―for the sake of the baby. If you vill but try to become more involved here―you vill eventually be accepted. There are the quilting bees, the Kaffee Klatsch, the―"

  "And I would be the subject for the day's gossip," Anne broke in. "No Matilda, I would be as much accepted here as that old Indian."

  "It is not like you to give up so easily, Liebe. Think of what I have said."

  In her apathetic state, Anne shrugged off Matilda's advice. But that afternoon, as she prepared the Sunday dinner, silently bemoaning the little food available, her mind drifted back to the settlement's resident Indian―and her own sojourn with the Comanches. Even in those months of drought the Kwahadis had always managed to find something to eat.

  And that was when the idea occurred to her―only a glimmer at first that worked itself into a full-fledged plan by the time Otto returned for dinner.

  "Why not?" she asked Otto, who stared indifferently at the sweet potatoes and cornbread she set before him. "If we grew tobacco―and I do think it would grow here―we could trade with the Indians for hides and freshly killed game."

  Her mouth watered, thinking of deer, wild turkey, and ducks. She knew the Indians, who were much better hunters than the educated people of Adelsolms, would be willing to trade almost anything for the precious tobacco.

  "It would work, I'm sure," she persisted. "Can we give it a try, Otto?"

  Otto began to eat. Anne controlled a shudder as salivary juices trickled out of the comer where his mouth did not close properly. "Do as you wish," he said listlessly.

  XXIV

  In late January Anne took the first step toward her venture in tobacco planting. The step inched her closer toward independence―and farther from her hopeless dreams of Colin. Otto made it no easier for her, refusing to help, and she was forced to seek out Peter Giles.

  The dead of winter had settled in, and a good two inches of snow powdered the ground. Still, Peter went out every day with his flintlock rifle to hunt the wild game that had drifted farther south to escape the harsh winter. The small game Peter did bring back barely supplemented his own household's need. But that Tuesday Adelsolms celebrated, for Peter had found a black bear in hibernation ...a bear so large he had to return to Adelsolms to get several of the men to help him bring the carcass back.

  That same afternoon Anne had four women visit her. With heads lowered they shuffled uneasily, and it took Lina, who pushed her way through the women, to make it clear to Anne what was wanted. "I told them to come for you, Anne," she shouted. ''That you vould know how to skin the bear hide and prepare the meat."

  For a moment Anne was tempted to tell the other women to get out of her cabin. It could have been her moment to gloat. But she found she really did not care anymore. Everyth
ing seemed so pointless. Even her enthusiasm for growing the tobacco had abated when she realized how difficult it was even to get started.

  She dried her hands on her apron. "I'll be over to help in a few minutes," she told the women. Lina gave her a wink and herded the women outdoors, clucking after them like they were a flock of geese.

  Anne pinned up the stray ends of hair and put on her cloak before trudging through the snow to the Giles cabin. Inside, the cabin was warm with the press of bodies. The men drank Lina's lagern beer, matching stories, while the women worked about the long table set before the roaring flames of the fireplace.

  Johanna turned her back on Anne, busying herself elsewhere, but the other women listened patiently as Anne explained to them what needed to be done. The rendered fat from the bear was to be stored in jars, and the meat was to be sliced thinly, and dried on racks over a low fire.

  Toward the end of the afternoon Anne took a break from the work. Johanna was busy preparing the bear's hide and chattering with one of the women, and Peter was, for once, alone. As he emptied the last of the beer from his stein, Anne approached him. "Peter, do you think you could buy something for me on your next trip to Velasco?"

  Peter looked at her curiously. In these hard times people rarely asked him to make purchases. "What is it you be a'wanting, ma'am?"

  Anne pulled the necklace from her pocket. The dainty ruby gleamed in the palm of her hand. "It was a gift from my parents on my thirteenth birthday," she said. "Do you think you could find a buyer for it?"

  Peter nodded. "Most likely."

  Relieved, Anne hurried on, wanting to end the conversation before Johanna could notice. "If so, with the money you receive for the necklace, I want you to purchase tobacco seeds for me. Will you?"

  Peter's lips puckered in a soft whistle of surprise .A necklace for material or a farm implement or food staples he could understand. But a woman's trading a necklace for tobacco seeds, it was beyond his comprehension. "I'll do my best, ma'am."

  After that, the days went more quickly. As Matilda had advised her, Anne had become involved in something. And even Matilda found the idea of tobacco farming intriguing. They waited anxiously for Peter's return from Velasco. And finally, with the first stirrings of the babe in her womb, Peter returned with the tobacco seed, which looked like finely ground pepper.

  However, Anne's jubilation was cut short by the dreaded disease cholera, which made its presence known the second week in February, when Zelda Jurgens became sick with severe, watery diarrhea and constant, intense vomiting. Two days later, Gustav Jurgens fell ill with the same symptoms. Now a panic took hold of the settlement. Few ventured outside their cabin except for emergencies.

  It was at that time that Anne made the decision to care for the Jurgenses, for she was worried about the boy, Fritz. As she crossed the empty plaza toward the Jurgens' cabin, Matilda called after her. Anne turned and watched the old woman hobble toward her. "Vhere are you going?" Matilda asked, panting from her exertion.

  "Someone needs to help the Jurgenses."

  Matilda frowned, her face squinting into a multitude of wrinkles. "Und you think you should be the one to take the chance?"

  Why not? Anne thought. Did she really care what would happen? In two months Colin would return for her, and she knew this time she could not run away with him―not now that there was the child. Instead, she would have to send Colin away. A vision of life there in the lonely frontier settlement with only the glowering Otto for a companion confronted her, and she said, "I've nothing to lose, Matilda."

  After a moment, the old woman seemed to accept Anne's decision. "Then ve are vasting time standing here in the cold. Let's see vhat ve can do."

  "No―I won't have your help. Go back to your cabin."

  "Vhy? I am an old voman, Liebe. I have nothing to lose either."

  The stench that enveloped them when they opened the Jurgens' door caused Anne quickly to pull her cloak up across the lower half of her face. Still she gagged. Across the room Gustav and Zelda lay stretched nude on a bed covered with sheets stained by diarrhea and vomit. Zelda moaned and threw out a wasted hand, but Gustav was silent. In the far corner the small boy tossed on a makeshift bed of cornhusks.

  "Get some vater boiling," Matilda ordered. "I vill see vhat can be done for them."

  The two women worked into the night, but on the afternoon of the next day Gustav died, followed toward midnight by Zelda. "There is no need for the two of us, now," Matilda told Anne when morning crone. "I vant you to get some rest―no, no," she said at Anne's attempted interruption. "In your condition you need rest more than I. But first, go to the Giles' home. Get Peter and some of the other men to bury them." She nodded toward the two bodies sprawled on the bed.

  Anne stooped and touched Fritz's forehead. The skin was clammy cold. The boy had lost a great deal of weight in those few days and looked almost like a skeleton. Anne watched with despair as watery waste poured from his bowels out onto the fresh sheet she had just put on his bed.

  Matilda laid a hand on her shoulder. "There iz nothing more ve can do, Liebe. Go on home."

  Despite her fatigue, Anne stopped first at the Giles' cabin. Peter answered the door, but did not give her a chance to talk. "Thank God, it's you, Mrs. Maren. Johanna came down sick several hours ago and has been spewing up ever since. At first I thought it was the babe , but―"

  Anne pushed the young man aside. "Let me see her."

  The cabin was dark, but Anne could perceive Johanna curled up on the bed, her arms wrapped about her protruding belly. She laid a hand on the girl's arm, finding the skin cold like Fritz's. She turned back to Peter. "I've been exposed to cholera and maybe exposing you...but I think Johanna has it also."

  "Just help her, Mrs. Maren."

  "We'll have to sterilize the water, food, milk, clothing―everything. And a quarantine must be put on these two cabins." She saw the worried look that added ten years to his youthful face. "We're getting to her early―she may make it."

  After Peter left to bury the Jurgens couple, Anne rolled up her sleeves and began to wash Johanna. The girl recognized Anne. "Vhat are you doing here?" she asked between parched lips.

  "You're very sick, Johanna, and you are going to have―" Anne broke off as the girl threw up on her skirts. She thought she would be sick herself, but realized she must be growing inured to cholera's revolting symptoms.

  Johanna seemed to sleep after that, and Anne took the opportunity to put a large kettle of water on the fire. After she cleaned her skirts, she sat in a rocker Peter had built, intending only to rest a few minutes. But an hour later she was awakened by Johanna's moaning.

  "The baby," Johanna said, as Anne leaned over her. "I vill lose it."

  "You may not―but you must try and keep food down." All anger for what the girl had done to her when the Comanches attacked evaporated, to be replaced by pity for the suffering she now underwent. Her golden hair was now a dull garish yellow, and there was a waxen cast to the complexion that had once been rosy with health.

  "No―I must tell you―ask you―your forgiveness."

  "I'm still alive―so there is nothing to forgive, Johanna."

  The girl's hand moved feebly. "Ja ...I was so jealous. It vas not just that Peter vas interested in you―it vas every man. The Irishman―and the scout, Brant Powers. I―I flirted vith Brant―in Velasco ...and I thought he might like me."

  "Shhh," said Anne. "You need to rest."

  "I vas there," Johanna continued stubbornly. "The night Brant brought you into our camp. I saw the vay he vatched you."

  Anne wanted to laugh, but she knew she herself was near hysteria from lack of rest. If Brant had watched her, it was not because he cared about her―but because he did not trust her. But she only said, "You were mistaken, Johanna."

  "Ja, I have been very foolish ...and very lucky. To have Peter for my husband."

  "Aye, 'tis true," Anne agreed, thinking of her own loveless marriage.

  Toward evening Pete
r returned, his face grim. "Fritz died," he said, turning from her and hanging his hat on a wall peg.

  Anne covered her face with her hands. "Dear God," she whispered. Another stone marker to fill the growing number already in the small cemetery.

  It took two days before Anne felt Johanna was well enough for her to go back to her own cabin. She was somewhat surprised that neither herself nor Peter or Matilda had succumbed to the cholera, and could only attribute the limited speed of the disease to the cold weather.

  Otto's manner was equally cold, and Anne suspected him of drinking, though she was never sure. She could only hope that the baby might ease the gulf between her and Otto. Its gurgling laughter would fill the silent cabin. There would be someone to love and love her back.

  She supposed this new maternal feeling was common among expectant mothers, and she could not help but smile in memory of the unglad feelings she had experienced when she first realized she was with child.

  Anne laid aside the potato she pared and crossed to the small, wooden cradle Peter had carved, in gratitude for her help when Johanna was ill. Gingerly, she knelt beside it, her hands lovingly stroking its smooth surface, lingering to finger the tiny quilt Matilda had made to line the cradle's bottom.

  The door swung open, and Otto came in. He did not look at Anne, but hung his hat on the peg next to the door and stood his axe under it. His arms were empty.

  "We need some wood," Anne said softly. "The fire's almost out."

  Otto ignored her. He took his Bible down from its shelf and, laying it on the table, sat down to read.

  Anne crossed to him, placing her hands on the table. "Otto."

  He did not look up.

  "Otto. We can't go on like this. You're making life unbearable for both of us." Her fingers curled around the table's edge. "I didn't want to be captured by the

  Comanches any more than you wanted to have your face disfigured. But it happened. And we've got to make the best of it!"