by Anita Mills
“I like Wild Horse,” Evy spoke up.
Margaret struggled to keep her composure, as the other three stared at the child.
“Evelyn, what are you saying?” Edward asked.
“He had a little girl like me,” she said with a sweet smile. “I saw him today.”
Margaret forced a light laugh. “Evy, such an imagination!” She scooped what was left of the child’s potatoes together. “Now you finish those potatoes and quit making up stories.”
The rest of them laughed, and the major shook his head. “How ironic the child should tell a story so close to the truth. Wild Horse did have a daughter. Actually, he had a son and a daughter. They and his wife were killed at Sand Creek eleven years ago, back in sixty-four, when Colorado volunteers attacked a peaceful village of Cheyenne under Black Kettle. It was quite a scandal for Colorado—a Major Chivington directed the raid—killed mostly women and children. The Cheyenne went on quite a rampage after that, and Wild Horse was one of the ringleaders. I guess you can hardly blame the man, seeing as how he lost his young wife and two children. I don’t think that rage ever quite left him. He never did take another wife. Still, he’s got to realize that everything is changed now. The Indian simply cannot live the way he once lived, and going out and raiding and killing will not work. It only makes life more difficult for the rest of the Cheyenne.”
Edward frowned. “How old is this Wild Horse?”
“Oh, I guess about thirty-two.”
“Hmm. Only a year younger than I am. Life sure is an irony, isn’t it? A man the same age as I, still living like an ignorant savage.”
The major swallowed a piece of chicken. “Not so ignorant as you might think. He seems quite intelligent. He actually kept and took good care of a white captive once, just so he could learn the white man’s language from him. In gratitude, he kept his word and set the young man free after several months. His purpose was simply to learn the language so that he could better defend himself and his people. He doesn’t trust the things that are said at treaty councils. He thinks the Indians get cheated partly because interpreters don’t always properly explain what is being promised them. He figured his best defense was to know the language. You have to admit, that’s smart thinking.”
Margaret felt a sweet satisfaction. For some reason it pleased her to know that Wild Horse was so intelligent. Now she knew how he managed to speak such good English. She was glad Edward had asked the questions she had wanted to ask herself. Her heart ached at the thought of what had happened to Wild Horse’s wife and little children. What a terrible thing! What kind of battle is it when men murder women and children? How could a man not carry revenge in his heart when something like that happens?
She stayed out of the rest of the conversation, glad that little Evy did not bring up Wild Horse’s name again. Apparently everyone believed the child just had a vivid imagination, but Margaret felt somewhat uncomfortable whenever she caught Gloria looking at her. She suspected that being female, the woman had an instinct for another woman’s troubles. Was it her own guilt that made her feel Gloria Doleman suspected something was not quite right? The woman already had detected that Margaret was not happy with her marriage. Surely that was why she had made the remark about it being too bad a preacher’s wife was forced to follow her husband to the ends of the earth.
Margaret was glad when the meal and dessert and a shared glass of wine were finished. Wine was the only type of alcohol her husband would touch, and then only one glass. They thanked the major for his hospitality and the good meal and finally left to walk back to their cabin, built just outside the walls of the fort.
“I am very upset with you, Maggie, for making those remarks to the major about something you know nothing about.”
Margaret carried a sleepy Evy in her arms. “Edward, just because I am a female, doesn’t mean I don’t have opinions and beliefs of my own. I have a right to express them.” She stopped walking. “Please take Evy. She’s getting too heavy.”
He stopped with her and took the child into his arms, arms Margaret had loved to feel around her when they first fell in love. They were strong arms, and she longed to see his naked torso the way she had seen Wild Horse’s earlier in the day. Edward had a fine physique, but he showed it to no one, not even his wife. It had been drilled into him since he was small that practically every pleasure there was in the world, as well as that of looking upon one’s wife or one’s own body, was sinful. Margaret wondered if he, too, sometimes wanted to express his passion more; if he had feelings he kept in check only because someone else had told him it was wrong to feel that way.
“I have never known you to behave this way,” he told her, scowling.
Margaret drew in her breath. “Edward, you are never going to reach the Cheyenne until you learn to truly care about them as human beings. You have to understand how they think and feel, what they believe, their spiritual connections. You can’t just blindly walk in on them and order them to change their lives. Maybe they don’t think they need salvation at all! Maybe we could learn something from them, and through what we learn, we can better understand how to help them through this terrible time of transition for them. They have lost everything, Edward! Everything! Now the government comes in and tries to take away what dignity they have left, and people like us come and try to steal their very religion out from under them!”
Edward stared at her in shock, speechless. “Margaret!” he said in a whisper. It was the only word he could utter.
She waited for a tirade, holding his gaze boldly and feeling better than she had in a long time. It felt good to speak her mind. If she could only get up the courage to tell him how she felt about their own personal relationship. “I will not say I am sorry for all the things I just said,” she said aloud. “I am not. I married you because I loved you and wanted to help you in your quest to bring Christ to those who needed to hear the truth. I meant to join you in your teachings, not just sit home nursing children. And since it looks as though there might not be any more children, I might as well get more involved in your work. Let me help you, Edward. Take me to the reservation with you. Let me and Evy get to know these people, befriend them, gain their trust. That is the only way they are going to start listening to you.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “You’ve lost your mind! Is it the desolation out here? Are you that lonely for your family and for Massachusetts?”
She closed her eyes, realizing he had not grasped a thing she had said. “No,” she answered. “I am that lonely for you, Edward.” She turned and walked rapidly then, fighting back tears. Surely there was a way to reach him, to make him understand she must be allowed to express her passions. She felt as though a volcano were boiling inside her, needing to erupt but unable to get out. Meeting Wild Horse today, that forbidden, intimate encounter had awakened something in her, needs she thought she could ignore, a longing for freedom, perhaps not so different from Wild Horse’s yearning to be free.
The night did not bring much relief from the heat. Margaret lay awake listening to crickets. In the distance she could hear voices, soldiers on night duty. She thought how ironic it was that she lay here next to her husband, yet her thoughts were of another man. Was he safe? Had he managed to hide himself at the agency?
She smiled in the darkness at her wonderful secret, and at Wild Horse’s fine trickery. Men were out there combing the hills for him, and he was right here—at least she hoped he was still here. But why did she care? She felt almost as though she were cheating on Edward thinking such thoughts, but she could not quell them. She closed her eyes and prayed for forgiveness, then turned to Edward, touching his arm. “Edward, are you still angry with me?”
He sighed deeply and did not move. “I don’t know. You just…you acted different tonight, Maggie. I’ve never seen you like that.”
She rubbed at his arm. “I can’t sit by and say nothing, Edward. I want to help you. I want to go to the reservation with you—befriend the Cheyenne, win the
ir confidence.”
“I don’t want you there.”
“But Edward—”
“I don’t want you there!” He spoke the words louder, and she moved away from him.
“You’ll wake Evy.”
“Then don’t go against my word when she’s asleep and force me to raise my voice.”
She lay there quietly, fighting tears. “Why did you marry me, Edward?”
She heard him gasp in exasperation. “What kind of question is that?”
“A very valid one. Why did you marry me?”
He paused, shifted in bed. “Because I love you. Why else?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe you just wanted someone to give you children, a wife on your arm, to show your followers what a fine family man you are. Did you ever truly desire me, Edward?” She felt him rise to a sitting position.
“For heaven’s sake, Maggie, where are you getting these questions? Of course I desired you. A man can’t…well…he can’t be a man if he doesn’t desire the woman. How do you think you had Evy, and the two children we lost? I’m the one who fathered them.”
She turned her face to look up at him in the moonlight. “Is that the only reason you want me?”
In the moonlight she saw a strange look come into his eyes. For one brief moment she thought she detected a passion she rarely saw there, but it quickly vanished. He drew in his breath and moved to get up. “You are talking about lust, Maggie, and lust is a sin. I love you. I don’t lust after you.”
Maybe I want you to lust after me, she thought. Was it terribly sinful of her to be thinking such things? “I just…I want you to love me as a person, Edward, not as just your wife and the mother of your child. And I wish you would respect my opinions.”
He shook his head and moved toward the bedroom door, stubbing his toe on a stool. “Damn!” he cried out. He danced around for a moment, then came to the foot of the bed and grabbed hold of the brass rail. “Now look what you’ve made me do! I swore!”
“You didn’t use the Lord’s name in vain.”
“I swore, nonetheless.”
“A lot of men swear, Edward.”
“What is wrong with you tonight! I don’t understand a thing you’re trying to tell me!”
She sat up. “I’m trying to tell you that I want you to listen to me sometimes. I want you to be your own man, Edward, not the man your parents beat you into becoming. They hit you, didn’t they? You’ve mentioned that they took the whip to you every time you did or said anything they considered sinful, and I’m sure that’s why you’re afraid to allow your real feelings to show. God wants us to be joyful, to celebrate our love and our passion. And you need to do more than just preach to the Indians. God would want—”
“How dare you tell me what God wants! What does a woman know about such things! And how dare you tell me my parents were wrong to discipline me! I want no more such talk, do you understand? No more of it!”
“Mommy!” Evy called out from her room. “What’sa matter, Mommy?”
Margaret sighed. “You’ve wakened Evy.”
“It’s your fault, not mine! Tell her to go back to sleep and be good, or she will be punished! You’re spoiling her, Maggie. You never discipline her!”
Margaret got out of bed and walked up to him, facing him squarely. “And if you ever take a whip to her, I will leave you, Edward Gibbons! You will not raise our daughter the way you were raised, so that she becomes an adult with no feelings!” Her voice broke on those last words. She turned and marched into Evy’s room. The cabin was small—just the two bedrooms and one main room, a simple structure put up by soldiers. Their arguing could not help but be heard by Evy. She picked up the child and soothed her, telling her everything was all right and she must go to sleep. The child finally dozed off again, and Margaret went into the main room, where Edward sat at the table reading the Bible by an oil lamp. He looked up at her.
“Is that what you think, Maggie? That I have no feelings?”
She was almost glad for the hurt in his eyes. At least that meant she had stirred something inside him, and had given him something to think about. “No. But I think that whatever feelings you do have, you keep them buried because you are afraid to show them. And if I sense your lack of compassion, what do you think the Cheyenne think? I think they can be very perceptive, and they know when someone is sincere and when he is not. Until they feel you are sincere, they are not going to respond to your preaching.” She moved to the bedroom door. “Good night, Edward.”
He did not reply. She went to bed alone, and again her thoughts strayed to another man, one with dark eyes—eyes that had roamed her body as though she stood before him naked. Edward had never looked at her that way. She wished he would come to bed and pull her into his arms, tell her he wanted her, just because she was his woman and he loved her, and for no other reason. But when she awoke in the morning, she realized she never even noticed when her husband came to bed. He had not touched her.
Chapter Three
“Is this our secret place, Mommy?”
Margaret was not sure how to answer Evy. If she said that the pond was their secret, it might make coming here that much more exciting for her, which would mean it would be even more tempting for her to tell her daddy about it. “Let’s just say it’s our special place, and we can’t tell anyone about it, or we might not get to come here anymore.”
“Teach me to swim, Mommy. Can you swim?”
Margaret kissed her cheek. “I haven’t tried for a very long time, Evy. And Mommy can’t take off her clothes and go in the water with you, so you just stay close to the edge.”
“Why not? Take off your dress, Mommy, and go in the water with me.”
Oh, how she longed to do just that. “Big ladies don’t do those things,” she told the child. “Only little children can take off their clothes and go into the water. Now hurry and get cool. We don’t have a lot of time.”
“But how will you get cool?”
“I’ll be fine.” She pulled off Evy’s dress and shoes and drawers, and the child squealed and ran into the water. Margaret smiled, unbuttoning the top buttons of her dress and then lifting her skirt to remove her slips and her own shoes and stockings. She decided she could at least get her feet wet and perhaps splash some water on her neck and chest. She lifted her skirt and walked to the edge of the pond.
Again Edward had refused to allow her to go to the reservation with him. He had spoken little to her since their argument two days ago, except to say the necessary things to everyday living, and to pray. She wasn’t sure if he was angry, or if perhaps he was giving some thought to the things she had told him. His blue eyes had become unreadable, and she had decided to let him ponder the things she’d said and let him take the next step. The strangest part about the entire incident was that until meeting Wild Horse for just those few minutes, she had never had the courage to speak to Edward the way she had. Something had changed, but she wasn’t sure why or what had caused it. She only knew that coming to the pond made her feel good inside, and meeting Wild Horse had made her think completely differently about the Cheyenne.
Was he evil? Was the devil in him? Was that why she had spoken so harshly to Edward, why she longed more than ever to lie naked next to her husband, to see passion in his eyes, to long for him to lust after her? Had Wild Horse been sent by Satan, or perhaps by God? Ever since meeting him, she wanted more than ever to go to the reservation and get to know some of the Cheyenne. Surely that was not the work of the devil. Surely it was God’s way of showing her how the job could be done, which meant that it was God who had led Wild Horse to the pond that day.
She held her skirt bunched in her arms so that it was well above her knees, then walked into the cool water. It felt wonderful. She tied the dress then so it would stay high and her hands would be free. She dipped them into the water and splashed its coolness onto her face and neck, rubbing it over the whites of her breasts, again feeling a sweet freedom at knowing Edward would be gone all
day and she could do as she pleased. She laughed with Evy, splashed her, watched the child’s blond curls dance in the sunlight.
“You can’t stay in too long this time, Evy. You’re still burned from the last time we were here. You’ve got to come out and sit in the shade. Mommy brought something for us to eat, and I’ll read to you.”
“Wild Horse! Wild Horse!” The child looked past her and ran out of the water before Margaret could catch her. Margaret turned, her eyes widening when she saw Wild Horse standing there. A naked little Evy ran right up to him and grabbed his hand, asking him to please come into the water with them.
Margaret wondered why her legs would not move. Wild Horse should not see her little girl this way…or see her this way! He let Evy pull him toward the bank, and Margaret’s blood tingled at the way his dark eyes moved over her, drinking in her bared chest, her bare legs. For a moment she actually enjoyed the way he looked at her, wanted him to look. But suddenly it hit her how wanton she must seem, how sinful it was to let this Indian man see bare skin that even Edward had not seen! Where was her mind! And what made her think she was safe? This man was a known raider, probably a thief, maybe a killer and a rapist!
Her face reddened deeply, and she quickly untied her dress and let it fall, its hem drooping into the water and getting wet. She turned away from the man and frantically began buttoning the front of her dress, while Evy splashed at Wild Horse and laughed. Margaret turned back around and grabbed the girl up, shrouding her naked little body with her arms. “What are you doing here!” she demanded of Wild Horse.
“I remembered you said that when your husband comes to reservation, you come to pond. I wanted to see you again.”
She hurried out of the water and grabbed up Evy’s dress.
