All My Tomorrows

by Al Lacy

  Priscilla and I are too young to really fall in love, he thought, but Johnny Bostin, when you are old enough to fall in love, you most certainly will fall in love with Priscilla. She is everything a Christian young lady should be, and there is no doubt that she likes you very much.

  He smiled to himself in the darkness and whispered, “And Priscilla, I am going to do everything I can to make you fall in love with me when we’re both old enough.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The next morning at the wagon train, Deena Mitchell sat at the Parker table beside their covered wagon. She was quite aware of many covert glances being sent her way from the curious crowd inside the circle. To the Parkers she said, “Looks like everybody’s wondering who I am and where I came from.”

  Brian gave her a pleasant look. “They’ll all know in a few minutes. You’re not afraid anymore, are you?”

  Sporting a grin from ear to ear, Deena replied, “No, Papa. I’m not at all afraid. I trust you and Mama, and I feel very safe with you. No one has ever been so good to me.”

  Brian and Valerie smiled at each other.

  At that moment, wagon master Les Corbin moved to the cook fire in the center of the circle, lifted his hat, and smoothed his hair back. “All right, listen up everybody. We are now nearing Comanche Indian territory as we dip into the southwest corner of Kansas. You will remember that before we crossed the Missouri River at Independence I warned you about the Indian threat all across the West. I asked all of you to keep your eyes peeled for any sign of the hostiles.

  “Now, you need to double your watchfulness. Let me explain about the Comanche leader, Quanah Parker. He surrendered to the United States government last year and began taking his people onto the reservation provided for them, which is partly in Kansas and partly in the territory known as Oklahoma. However, there are some rebel groups among the Comanches who have not agreed with the surrender. They’re showing their hatred for white men by attacking farms, ranches, villages, stagecoaches, and wagon trains. They are short on guns and ammunition, so they also use bows and arrows.

  “They only have small groups, and when they attack, they shoot as many bullets and arrows as they can, then gallop away, satisfied that they have killed or wounded some white people, and frightened the rest.

  “Remember that if we sight any of the hostiles, I will immediately call for the wagons to make a circle. In Missouri, you men encouraged me by letting me know that so many of you are crack shots with guns. This is good. And remember that all the women and children are to get inside the wagons and lie flat on the floor till you are told it is safe to come out. These Comanches are savages to the core, so keep your eyes peeled and give a shout if you see any sign of them.”

  Corbin sensed the pall of apprehension that came over the group.

  “Folks, I know the prospect of Indian attack is frightening, but let me tell you something. Usually on a wagon train the people begin to form sort of a family feeling for each other. This is good because the family bond is the strongest bond on earth. When we are threatened, we must depend on each other in order to survive. Genuine friendships are developed on these journeys too, and there’s an unwritten law that what hurts or affects one, has an impact on all. Let’s determine to unite ourselves if attacks come, and we’ll make it together.”

  Some of the men waved their hats and sent up a cheer. Women and children joined them.

  Corbin smiled. “Good! Now, I have something else to do.” He looked toward the Parker table. “Mr. and Mrs. Parker, will you come here and bring that lovely young lady with you?”

  The Parkers put Deena between them and headed for the spot where Corbin stood near the fire.

  “I’m scared now,” Deena whispered.

  “No need to be, honey,” said Brian.

  Valerie squeezed her arm. “That’s right, Deena. These fine people will understand and welcome you when Mr. Corbin tells them your story.”

  As they drew up beside him facing the crowd, the wagon master smiled at Deena, then looked at the crowd. “Yesterday we pulled put of Salina and two sheriff’s deputies caught up to us and told us about a thirteen-year-old girl named Deena Mitchell who was missing from a farm just outside of town. The deputies told us Deena was unhappy in her foster home and possibly had run away.

  “Well, none of us knew it, but at the very time the deputies were talking to us, Deena was hiding under the cot in the back of the Parker wagon. Even the Parkers were unaware of it. Deena had climbed in there and hid herself while we were still parked outside of Salina.”

  All eyes were on the girl with the long auburn hair.

  Corbin gestured toward her. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, this is Deena Mitchell. I’m going to tell you her story.”

  The wagon master had everyone’s attention as he told them Deena’s story. At times he turned to her to corroborate a certain point, or to expand on it, which she did.

  The group was having a hard time absorbing the unthinkable information that was coming from Corbin’s lips. They were stunned, first of all to hear of Deena and her twin being sent away from their Manhattan home by their real parents, and second to hear of the abuse she had suffered at the hands of her foster father and his son. Corbin also dwelt on the mental anguish Deena had suffered in being separated from Donna, with the strong possibility that she would never see her again. The obvious astonishment they felt showed on their faces. They stood in absolute silence.

  Deena thought that they did not believe her story. She looked up at Brian and Valerie, seeking some kind of assurance.

  Noting the trepidation that showed on her face, the Parkers each put a protective arm around her.

  Deena stood rigid, staring at the ground. If just one person turns against me, she thought, they might report this to the authorities. Maybe there really is a way I could be sent back to the Dexters. Her heart was pounding in her ears and her breathing was rapid and shallow.

  It was Les Corbin who broke the silence. “Remember what I said about people on a wagon train treating each other like family? Mr. and Mrs. Parker are going to keep her and give her a home. They plan to adopt her when they settle at their destination further west. She could also use some warmth and welcome from the rest of you.”

  Suddenly, children and adults alike rushed to Deena and welcomed her into the wagon train. This touched her deeply, and she responded with warm words and a bright smile.

  The meeting soon broke up and the people went to their wagons to prepare to move out for another day’s travel.

  At the Parker wagon, Deena was doing what she could to help Valerie while Brian was tending to the horses. As they worked side by side, Valerie noticed tears on the girl’s cheeks. She put an arm around her.

  “Honey, did Mr. Corbin’s speech about the Comanches frighten you?”

  “It made me real uneasy, Mama, but that’s not why I’m crying.”

  “Then what is it, sweetie?”

  Deena sniffed. “I—well, I’m crying because when Mr. Corbin told the people of the strong possibility that I may never see Donna again, it just hit me even harder. He’s right, I know, but it hurts so much to think about it. I can hardly stand the thought that I may never see her again.”

  Valerie wrapped her arms around her. “Honey, I wish I could offer hope to you in the matter. Where was the orphan train headed?”

  “Los Angeles was its final stop. Of course it had many stops scheduled all along the way where the orphans would be looked over and chosen by those who wanted to be their foster parents. Donna could be anywhere between Salina and Los Angeles. That’s a lot of territory.”

  “Indeed it is. I’m so sorry it has turned out this way, and I really can’t understand how it feels to you. I’m not a twin. And like you just said, that’s a lot of territory. There is no way we could ever find Donna. I know that people who are interested in becoming foster parents often travel for days to a town where the trains are going to stop. Donna could be living a long way from what
ever town where she might have been chosen.”

  Deena sniffed again. “You’re right, Mama. I simply must face the fact that I will never see my sweet sister again.”

  Valerie and Deena finished their task, and Brian showed up just as the voice of the wagon master was heard, calling for everyone to get in the wagons.

  Brian said, “Valerie, I’ll take Deena up on the driver’s seat with me. You’d better lie down on the cot.”

  “Not right now, honey. Maybe later. I’d like to sit up front too.”

  “Okay, but if you start getting tired, I’ll signal Mr. Corbin that we have to stop long enough for me to help you into the rear of the wagon so you can lie down on the cot. If we didn’t have so much stuff piled up behind the seat, you could crawl back without us having to stop. But that’s where you’re going if I see you getting tired.”

  Valerie chuckled and gave him a military salute. “Yes, sir, General Parker, sir!”

  Deena laughed.

  Brian tweaked her nose. “It’s good to hear you laugh, sweet stuff. You look like you’ve been crying.”

  Valerie nodded. “When Mr. Corbin mentioned in his story that Deena was facing the possibility that she may never see Donna again, it hit her afresh. I wish I could give her some hope in the matter, but I can’t. She told me the orphan train was going all the way to Los Angeles with many stops in between. It would be impossible to find Donna, no matter how hard we searched. There’s a lot of territory out there.”

  Brian nodded and tweaked Deena’s nose again. “Lets get aboard.”

  Brian helped both of them up onto the driver’s seat, putting Deena up first so she could sit between them. When he settled onto the seat beside Deena, placing his rifle on his lap, he picked up the reins. “Well, here we go.”

  Deena looked at the rifle and nervously ran her tongue over her lips.

  “Just in case those Comanches show up, honey. I want this gun where I can get a hold of it in a hurry.”

  A moment later, Les Corbin was on his horse and calling for the wagons to move out.

  As the train rolled along the vast rolling prairie, Deena looked up at Brian. “Mr. Corbin said that Comanche leader who took his people onto the reservation is named Quanah Parker. I don’t know much about Indians, Papa, but those I’ve studied about in school never had a white man’s last name. How come he has the same last name as you?”

  “Well, I’ve done a little studying about him. His last name is Parker because he is a half-breed. You know what that is.”

  “That’s when one parent is white and the other is Indian.”

  “Correct. Quanah’s father was a Comanche, and his mother was a white woman named Cynthia Ann Parker. As a young girl, she was captured by the Comanches. They raised her, and she married a young chief named Peta Nocona. The Noconas were one of the main bands of Comanches. A year or so after they married, Cynthia Ann gave birth to their firstborn son. They named him Quanah, which means ‘fragrant’ in Comanche. He grew up and became a fearless warrior chief. It was the Texans who first began to call him Quanah Parker to mark him as a half-breed.”

  “I see.”

  Valerie looked past Deena at her husband. “I didn’t realize you knew all of this about that Indian.”

  Brian chuckled. “I learned it when I checked out a book on the history of the American Indian from the library in Crown Point. I was especially interested in Quanah because his last name is the same as mine.”

  “Interesting, to say the least.”

  “I agree.”

  They rode along in silence for a while, then Deena said, “Papa, Mama, with all that’s been going on, you haven’t told me where you are planning to go to make your new home. I know by listening to conversations among the people who walked past the wagon while I was hiding under the cot, that most of them are going all the way to southern California. I’ve heard some say they are stopping in New Mexico or Arizona, though. Where are we going?”

  Brian and Valerie exchanged smiling glances, and Valerie was about to tell her when suddenly they heard the whoops of wild Indians. Rifles began to fire from the wagons while Les Corbin shouted for the wagons to make a circle. The war-painted Comanches were galloping out of a nearby gully where they had been hiding.

  Hurriedly, Brian handed Valerie the reins, telling her to follow the other wagons as they formed a circle. He shouldered his rifle and fired off a shot at a warrior who came riding close. The warrior let out a scream and fell from his horse, hitting the ground like a broken doll.

  Deena clung to the seat with an icy coldness in her chest while her new father took a bead on another Indian and her new mother guided the wagon into the circle.

  Men were firing their rifles while the women and the children were making their way into the back side of the wagons. It was bedlam outside the circle with Indians screeching, guns roaring like a string of firecrackers, and arrows hissing through the air.

  Brian fired off another shot, and while levering another cartridge into the chamber, looked over his shoulder to see Valerie on the ground, raising her arms to Deena. “That’s it, honey! Hurry! Get inside fast! Can you make it without me?”

  “Yes! You keep shooting! Come on, Deena!”

  Deena rose up on her feet and leaned down toward Valerie.

  Abruptly, two Comanches galloped up close. One was shouldering a rifle, and the other was bringing a bow and arrow into play. Brian’s shot dropped the one with the rifle, and at the same instant the arrow from the other one hissed past him, followed by the sound of the arrow striking flesh. Deena let out a high-pitched cry.

  Brian quickly levered another cartridge into the chamber and fired, dropping the second Indian. He whipped around on the seat to see Deena fall into Valerie’s arms with the arrow protruding from her back.

  Valerie gripped the limp form. “Deena-a-a-a! Brian, she’s hit!”

  At the K-Bar-M Ranch near Wild Horse, Colorado, the family sat down for lunch.

  Ken looked at the hot onion soup. “Mmm! Sure smells good, ladies.”

  Molly grinned. “Donna made this soup all by herself.”

  “Well, honey, if it’s as good as it smells, I’ll hire you as the chief soup maker around here!”

  Everybody laughed, then Ken reached across the table and took their hands into his, “Let’s pray.”

  Ken had hardly said the amen when suddenly Donna put her hands to her mouth, eyes wide. “Something’s wrong! I’m sure something’s wrong!”

  Ken’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, Donna?”

  Molly took hold of her arm. “You mean something’s wrong with Deena?”

  “Yes! Terribly wrong! I know it! Oh, I’ve got to go to her!”

  Brow still furrowed, Ken said, “Well, honey, we weren’t going to Salina till next week, but since you feel this strong about it, I’ll ride into town after lunch and make reservations for the next train east.”

  Half an hour later, Molly and Donna stood on the front porch of the ranch house and watched Ken gallop away.

  When horse and rider vanished from view, Molly said, “Well, honey, let’s get the dishes done, then we’ll pack a couple small bags so we’ll be ready to go in case there’s an east-bound train coming through right away.”

  Donna drew a shuddering breath. “I hope there is, Mama. I’ve got to get to Deena as soon as possible. Something is terribly wrong.”

  Ken was back shortly and told Molly and Donna that he booked the three of them on a train that was scheduled to arrive in Wild Horse in three hours. It would have them to Salina by nine o’clock tomorrow morning.

  In less than an hour, they were in the buckboard on their way to town.

  Donna was seated between them, and Molly had an arm around her as she said, “Oh, Mama, Papa, I keep getting this horrible feeling! Whatever it is, it’s bad!”

  At Wild Horse, Ken left his team and buckboard with the local livery stable, and the Talberts walked the short distance to the depot.

  At nine o�
�clock the next morning, the train pulled into the Salina railroad station. As the Talbert family left the coach, carrying their small pieces of luggage, Ken said, “We’ll rent a horse and buggy at the nearest livery stable, and I’ll see if the stable people know the location of the Dexter farm.”

  When they reached the street, Ken moved up to a hired buggy and said to the driver, “Excuse me, sir. Can you tell me where the nearest livery stable is? We need to rent a horse and buggy.”

  “It’s the only livery stable in Salina, sir. ’Bout four blocks north. Only cost you fifty cents if I take you to it.”

  “All right. Let’s go.”

  While the buggy was rolling along Main Street, Donna’s hands were shaking. Molly took hold of them. “Just hold on, sweetheart. We’ll be there in a little while.”

  Ken leaned up close to the driver. “You wouldn’t happen to know where the Ralph Dexter farm is, would you?”

  The driver angled his face toward him while keeping an eye on the street. “No, sir. I think I’ve heard that name, but I have no idea where his farm might be. Charlie Dodd—that’s the owner of the livery stable—might know.”

  “Fine. I’ll ask him. Thank you.”

  When the buggy came to a halt in front of the livery stable, Ken helped the ladies out, then dropped a dollar into the driver’s hand. When they moved up to the office door, a silver-haired man was just coming out. He smiled. “May I help you, folks?”

  “Are you Charlie Dodd?” inquired Ken.

  “Sure am.”

  “The buggy driver told me your name. We need to rent a horse and buggy.”

  Charlie grinned. “Well, that’s what I’m here for.”

  “He also said you might be able to tell me how to find the Ralph Dexter farm.”

  “Oh, sure. North of town about six, seven miles. I’ll draw you a little map.”

  Less than an hour later, the Talberts turned off the road on to the Dexter place and headed down the lane toward the house.