To Tame A Rebel

by Georgina Gentry

The other nodded, mounted his palomino horse, wheeled, and rode back along the trail. “Let’s get out of here, men; they’ve all gotten away.”

  Yellow Jacket lay there, hardly daring to breathe as the gray-clad Cherokee rode out of sight. He heard the patrol ride away, the leader still cursing their luck at letting some of their prey escape.

  Sometimes friendship was more important than war, Yellow Jacket thought. The event renewed his faith in men. He wasn’t certain what he would have done in Jim Eagle’s moccasins. He crept from his hiding place, the snow blowing harder now, and found his horse and his rifle. Then he gave the call of a bobwhite quail. After a moment, Smoke came out of a ravine to the east. “That you, Yellow Jacket?”

  “Yes, I’m alive, just scratched up a bit.” Yellow Jacket walked out to meet him, leading his horse. “What about the others?”

  “Dead, I think. We’ll look and make sure.” Smoke stared at him. “I would have sworn you were a goner when I saw that Cherokee go down that trail.”

  Yellow Jacket smiled in remembrance. “A long time ago we were friends. He didn’t give me away.”

  Smoke nodded. “I’d say you were still friends. Some things, war don’t change.”

  They found the two young warriors sprawled along the trail, dead with the snow blowing about them, stark and white against brown skin. Yellow Jacket knelt and put his hand on the cold face. “We should do ceremonies.”

  “We have no time,” Smoke said. “We’ve got to get that message to Chief Lincoln.”

  “It doesn’t seem right to leave them here for the wolves,” Yellow Jacket answered.

  “They would understand,” Smoke said softly.

  He was right, of course. Thousands of loyal Indians were awaiting help from Union forces. They must bring that help. The snow began to fall faster. Soon the brown, dead bodies would be buried by the Master of Breath in a white, soft blanket. With a sigh, Yellow Jacket mounted up. “Yes, we must ride on. The graycoats might send a patrol out for another look.”

  So they rode until they were so weary and frozen, they were about to fall from their saddles, and their horses stumbled in the snow. They lost all track of time as they rode north, but finally, they ran across a bluecoat patrol.

  The soldiers cocked their rifles. “Who are you?”

  Yellow Jacket was so frozen, he could barely speak. “L-loyal Muskogee, the tribe the whites call Creeks. We have come far. Take us to your commander.”

  Within an hour, they were ushered into the Union colonel’s office by a wiry sergeant. “Good Lord, Sergeant,” the old man growled, and came to his feet. “What the hell . . . ?”

  “We are sent from the loyal Creek leader Opothleyahola,” Yellow Jacket gasped, and grabbed on to the desk to keep from falling. “Come to ask for soldiers.”

  The colonel gestured. “Quick, Sergeant, get chairs for these men, and some coffee.”

  Yellow Jacket shook his head, even though he was on the verge of fainting. “We—we must deliver our message first.”

  In minutes he had explained their mission, even as an orderly came in with steaming cups of coffee.

  The old colonel pulled at his gray whiskers and peered at them through his spectacles. “Hmm. How many loyal Indians are there?”

  Gratefully, Yellow Jacket wrapped his cold hands around the cup. “There’s no way to know for sure—maybe six to nine or ten thousand, of many tribes.”

  “And how many fighting men?” the colonel asked.

  “Not many, maybe a couple of thousand.” Yellow Jacket gulped the hot, strong brew.

  “You two came through enemy lines? That’s impossible.”

  Smoke nodded. “There were four of us. The other two didn’t make it.”

  “I insist that you rest up for a couple of days and—”

  “No.” Yellow Jacket emptied his cup and stood up. “We’ve got to return with your message to our leader. What shall I tell him? Are you sending soldiers to help us, as Chief Lincoln promised?”

  Now the colonel clasped his hands behind his back, pacing his office and pausing to look out at the snow outside. “I—I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Good.” Yellow Jacket smiled at Smoke. “Now, sir, if you’ll give us a little food for us and our horses, we’ve got to get back.”

  “But it’s several hundred miles,” the officer protested. “Why don’t you remain here and—”

  “The ancient one is waiting for an answer,” Yellow Jacket said. “He must decide what to do next, ringed in as he is by rebels.”

  The officer nodded, not looking at him. “All right, Sergeant,” he ordered, “get these men the supplies they need and send them on their way.”

  Yellow Jacket glanced at Smoke, and they both smiled. Things would be good for their people now, just as Chief Lincoln had promised. They both saluted the elderly officer and went out.

  Later the old colonel went to his window and watched the pair riding away from the fort, headed south. The wiry sergeant came into the room and stood beside him. “Poor devils,” the colonel murmured.

  “I beg your pardon, sir?”

  He watched the pair growing smaller and smaller as they rode across the white prairie until they disappeared into the blowing snow. “I couldn’t bear to tell them the truth.”

  “Nobody blames you for that, sir,” the other man said.

  “But I lied to them, knowing that with the rebels threatening to overrun Kansas and Missouri, I have no extra troops to send to Indian Territory to help these poor loyal devils, even if President Lincoln did make them promises.”

  “Sir, maybe if you wired the president—”

  “No.” The colonel turned from the window, shaking his head. “The president hasn’t got the extra troops anywhere, not with the way the war is going in the eastern states. I’m afraid a few thousand loyal Indians trying to escape from the rebels is a low priority.”

  The sergeant blinked. “This pair may not make it back through enemy lines anyway.”

  “Brave men,” the colonel murmured, “to come this far—and it’s all such a waste. Those Indians are waiting for help that won’t come. The rebels will probably slaughter all six thousand of them.” He sat down at his desk with a sigh. “Poor devils. Poor, poor devils.”

  Chapter 5

  Twilight had settled into a routine at the store in the few days since she had arrived, clerking behind the counter and helping Harvey with his bookwork. This cold morning, two small girls came through the front door very hesitantly. When Twilight looked at them, she was puzzled as to their background. They appeared to be a mixture of black and Indian.

  Twilight loved children. She smiled and beckoned them in, but Harvey, who was up on a ladder stocking shelves, yelled at them, “Get out of here, you little devils! I’m tired of your beggin’!”

  The two turned and fled.

  Twilight came around the counter and looked up at him. “Now was that really necessary? They were just children, and they looked hungry.”

  Harvey came down off the ladder. “Now, Twilight, dear,” he said in a soothing tone, “you don’t understand that those thievin’ savages come in here and steal supplies—”

  “Why should they have to steal?” She was really puzzled. “Haven’t you got a big government contract to buy them food and supplies?”

  “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that.” Harvey walked across the floor to her.

  His tone set Twilight’s teeth on edge. She ached to ask questions, but of course, it would not be polite to doubt her stepbrother on this. “I just thought, if I gave them some candy, it would encourage the adults to buy more.”

  “With what?” Harvey sneered. “They don’t have any extra money.”

  She realized suddenly that Harvey had walked across the floor with no noticeable limp. “Has your leg gotten better? You aren’t limping today.”

  He appeared taken aback. “Uh, some days it’s better than others.”

  A thought crossed her mind—a thoug
ht so awful and disloyal, she couldn’t put it into words. Can Harvey be faking his limp? Of course she dare not even think such a thing. “Well, I’m glad your leg’s improving.”

  He nodded. “Damned Yankee minié ball. If my leg was good, I’d still be right in the front line with our other brave boys.”

  She’d never thought of Harvey as brave, but she didn’t say so. “Anyway, I didn’t think it would hurt anything to give those children a candy stick.”

  “I’m not running a charity here.” Harvey paused, and his voice had a decided edge. “Remember, dear sister, that this store is supporting two now.”

  If she had any gumption, she would go into the back room and pack her bags. Instead, she swallowed back a retort. “I—I’m sorry, Harvey. I don’t want to appear ungrateful for your generosity.”

  That appeared to mollify him. He smiled and patted her shoulder. “Never mind, I’m happy to have you here. As your older brother, of course I am pleased to offer you bed and board. Of course, if you should make a good marriage, I’m sure you won’t forget how I helped you when you needed it.”

  She hated taking his charity and, worse yet, being reminded of it. “Of course, Harvey.” Her mind returned to the little girls. “Those children don’t quite look like Indians.”

  He was limping again as he crossed the floor, climbed the ladder, and returned to stocking shelves. “Smoke’s kids—part black, part Creek.”

  “Smoke?”

  “He’s Matt Folane’s friend. That tribe has intermingled with black freed slaves; so have many of the Five Civilized Tribes.”

  “Matt Folane?”

  “You know, Yellow Jacket, that damned dangerous brave.”

  “Oh, yes.” She remembered the hostile warrior. “He doesn’t look like he should have a white name. He’s rather uncivilized.”

  “Ain’t he, though? He was a Lighthorseman before the War started, he and his brother both.”

  She began straightening a display of fabric. “What’s a Lighthorseman?”

  “The Five Civilized Tribes have their own law enforcement, the Lighthorse. Believe me, no one wants to get crosswise with them; they’re judge, jury, and executioner to lawbreaking Indians.”

  “But not to whites?” She paused, picturing Yellow Jacket as a lawman.

  “Naw. Whites in the Territory have to be taken over to Fort Smith for trial. That makes the Territory a good place for white bandits to hide out. White deputies don’t want to come into the Nations looking for lawbreakers. If they do, most of them are never seen again. ’Course, all that will change when Indian Territory becomes a state.”

  “Anyone ask the Indians what they think about that?” She looked up at him.

  “Of course not, Twilight; why would they? By the way, tomorrow I’ve got to take a wagon and go over to the railyard to pick up new supplies—be gone about ten days.”

  “You want me to go with you?” Twilight asked politely. She didn’t relish being left here alone with all these savages. On the other hand, she really didn’t enjoy Harvey’s company.

  “Now, if you went, I’d have to close the store, and we’d lose money. Don’t worry, I’ll ask our young captain to check on you. I think his mother has already left for Austin.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she answered, realizing that Harvey was again pushing romance, but somehow, a mama’s boy didn’t appeal to her. Who did? In her mind, abruptly, she saw the big, virile savage, and the thought both horrified her and made her heart beat faster.

  She shook her head. Frankly, she’d be relieved for her stepbrother to be gone. “The place is a little dusty,” she said. “I might do some cleaning while you’re gone.”

  Harvey grinned, showing crooked teeth. “Now, that would be nice. Place hasn’t really been cleaned up in a while. Those Injun girls tried to overcharge me to do it.”

  Twilight didn’t believe that anyone could overcharge her greedy stepbrother and get away with it, but she didn’t say so.

  “Oh, by the way,” Harvey said a little too casually, “Captain Wellsley asked if he might call on you, and I told him yes.”

  Twilight sighed. “You might have asked me first, Harvey.”

  He looked hurt. “Should I have told him no? After all, you have been widowed some months now. Are you worried about what people will think?”

  “Yes, well, I don’t know.” She turned away and picked up a feather duster. She had always worried about what people thought of her. It had made her shy and inhibited because her stepmother had been so critical. “It’s just that I’m really not interested in the captain . . .”

  “Not interested? Not interested?” Harvey’s voice rose. “You’re poor as a church mouse and relying on my generosity to eat . . . !”

  “I—I reckon you think I’m being too picky,Harvey, but after all, he’s a mama’s boy and he’s younger than I am—”

  “So what?” His voice rose. “You expect some Prince Charming to come carry you off on a prancing stallion? You women and your silly fantasies. Marriage is a business arrangement, Twilight, and you should have realized that when I arranged for you to meet Pierre. . . .” His voice trailed off as if he suddenly realized he had said too much.

  “I thought when you introduced me to Pierre, you were thinking of my welfare.” She stared up at him.

  “And so I was.” He smiled. “As I am now.”

  She said nothing. Southern ladies did not contradict men. She swallowed back the spunky reply that came to her lips. Daddy might not approve of such independence, and certainly her stepmother had taught her better. “I’m sure you’re right, Harvey,” she said, and returned to dusting shelves.

  Twilight made one promise to herself as she straightened the counter. AfterHarvey left tomorrow, if hungry little Indian children came into the store, she intended to slip them some candy or food. Harvey complained that he wasn’t making any profit, but having looked at his books, she was certain he was shorting the tribes on their government rations and pocketing the difference. She was afraid of Indians, but she believed in fair play and justice. She might not have much gumption or spunk, but for needy children she could rise to the occasion.

  The next day Harvey hitched up the big wagon and pulled out, leaving Twilight in charge. It was a slow day; not many people came into the store. Twilight began to straighten out a drawer of papers under the cash register. Stunned, she flipped through them. Harvey was deeply in debt from gambling with the local soldiers and settlers. She had always suspected that Harvey gambled, but she hadn’t realized it was so serious. It crossed her mind now how eager he had been for her to marry Pierre Dumont, who was also a gambler. Could Harvey have owed Pierre money? Surely her own stepbrother wouldn’t have stooped so low.

  Could he be hoping to use her again, to dip his chubby hands in Captain Wellsley’s wealth? Perhaps her stepbrother had not been as generous as she had thought in inviting her to come stay with him. What to do? She had no money unless she robbed his cash register, and she was not a thief. With no resources and no one to turn to, she was pretty much on her own if she decided to pack her bags and leave. She hated herself for not having the courage to do just that. At least she’d have about ten days to make some choices, if she could just get up the nerve to do so.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the ring of the bell, announcing a visitor. A small dark face peered around the door, then another. She gave the children a big smile. “Come in.”

  The two little girls looked at each other, then at her again. She gestured. “Come in. Mr. Leland is not here.”

  The children were in rags and barefoot in this cool weather, Twilight noted with dismay as they entered the store.

  “Where is your father?” She reached to hand them two candy sticks.

  “Smoke hasn’t got back—” the younger one began.

  “Hush!” the older one warned. “Remember, we don’t tell whites nothin’.” She took the striped candy with wonder.

  “I’m your friend; you can trust me,”
Twilight said softly, and came around the counter. “Does your daddy know you’re here?”

  The smaller girl licked the candy. “He’s—”

  “Don’t tell that,” the other child said. “Remember, we must not tell.”

  “Tell what?” Twilight squatted down in front of them.

  Now they both looked at her with big, suspicious eyes.

  “We must not talk to you,” the bigger child said. “You are the enemy.”

  “Me?” Twilight touched her chest in surprise. “I am no one’s enemy.”

  “You’re a rebel.” The smaller girl eyed her and licked the candy. “When Daddy and Yellow Jacket get back—”

  “Hush!” the older girl commanded. Before the younger one could say anything else, the older girl took her hand and they went out the door, with the little one protesting that she had not told the secret.

  Mystified, Twilight went over to shut the door and began to arrange some bolts of cloth on the shelf. Just what were the Indians up to? She wondered if she should mention it to the captain but decided against it. She didn’t want to start trouble, especially when she really knew nothing. The captain might laugh if Twilight told him a child had almost blabbed some minor gossip that would turn out to be worthless. More than that, she didn’t want to get the children in trouble. Twilight wouldn’t admit to even herself that she didn’t want to get the big, virile warrior in trouble with the army, either.

  The weather turned colder and more miserable. She had few customers that day and the next, so she decided maybe she should clean up the bedroom in the back of the store. Certainly it needed it. Twilight looked with distaste at the cobwebs draped across the wall and the dirty windows. With a will, she began to clean.

  She found a broom and dustpan and swept the bare plank floor. When she gathered her skirts and knelt to look under the bed, there were dust balls everywhere. Whatever Harvey was paying the Indian girls to do, she suspected it wasn’t cleaning.

  What was that in a far corner under the bed? Mystified, Twilight reached with the broom. It took three tries to retrieve the tiny object. It was a blue bead. Harvey sold beads, but how had this one ended up under the bed? She puzzled over it a moment, shrugged, and put it in her dress pocket. Then she picked up Harvey’s extra boots. She dropped one, and pebbles rolled out and clattered across the floor. Now, why would he have pebbles in his boot? She remembered him walking without a limp. Now, why would he . . . ?