Sunflower

by Jill Marie Landis

  “Hello again, Mr. Elliot. Kase insisted I come to watch, so here I am.” She reached out to shake the man’s rough hand and noticed the beginning of a smile forming at one corner of his mouth. Before he took her hand, he brushed his own against his pantleg. Stiffening at the contact, he shook hands and nodded in greeting. She was certain he felt uncomfortable around women and wore his gruff demeanor as a form of protection.

  His appearance was startling to say the least, but failed to frighten Analisa. She’d heard some of the officers’ wives make cruel comments about Zach on more than one occasion, but their snobbery only served to spur Analisa’s determination to show the old man every kindness.

  Zach Elliot stood at medium height, his skin baked dark by the sun and creased with lines. His beard seemed to be in a perpetual state of stubble, never long, never clean-shaven. A thick white mustache hid his upper lip and trailed down along the corners of his mouth, outlining his lips with a perpetual frown. One deep-set brown eye glistened intently as he watched Analisa. His left eye had been replaced with thick scar tissue, the result of his years as an Indian fighter, so the stories claimed; a jagged scar trailed from the empty socket down the side of his face to his lower jaw. A wide, floppy-brimmed hat, the crown battered out of shape, rode just above his unruly white eyebrows, hiding his hair. Everything about him was long and bent. He looked as used and worn as his hat, his nose twisted slightly to one side, his legs long and bowed from years of riding. A combination of army issue and buckskin, his clothing hung on his spare frame, the entire ensemble coated with dust. Analisa guessed that Zach was far younger than anyone suspected, but he held his peace, never correcting their assumptions. Word was that he was the best Indian tracker at the fort, better even than the Crow scouts on the army payroll. He seemed to see more with his one eye than most people saw with two.

  “You boy there’s got the makin’s of a fine horseman, Miz de la Vega. Takes to it like an Injun.” A stream of tobacco juice shot from the side of his mouth and landed a few feet away.

  His words set her heart beating in alarmed warning. She forced herself to meet his sharp one-eyed stare. Did he suspect the truth about Kase’s heritage? Analisa wondered, then berated herself for her suspicions. How could Zach possibly know what Kase didn’t even know himself? Analisa knew her features must have registered surprise, for Zach immediately sought to apologize.

  “No offense intended, ma’am. Nothin’ I admire more than a good rider.”

  She felt him watching her, waiting for further reaction. For a moment she feared he saw through the facade and into her past, but calmed herself. He had no way of knowing. She was Mrs. Ricardo Corona de la Vega now. She met his stare. “I’m sure his father will be pleased.”

  Zach merely nodded.

  She heard Kase calling to her from the corral gate.

  “I came to watch Kase ride, if you don’t mind my taking a few more minutes of your time.”

  “Not at all, ma’am.”

  At that the man ejected another stream of tobacco juice and turned on the worn heel of his boot to lead the big mare back into the enclosure. Analisa followed Kase, who clung to her hand as he hurried her along. She stood outside the corral and watched as Zach tossed Kase into the saddle and led him around the wide ring, slowly at first and then faster until Kase clung to the saddle horn with both hands. Surprisingly enough, considering his size, he sat the horse well, riding smoothly and accommodating his own movements to the horse’s gait.

  “Watch, Mama! Look at me!”

  “I am!” she called back, laughing. Tor stepped up beside her, smiling and calling out encouragement to the boy. In a few short weeks Kase had become quite a favorite among the troops, especially Tor. She fought the questions that came to mind whenever she saw him talking to the soldiers. Would the more seasoned Indian fighters treat him so kindly if they knew he was not Spanish but half Indian? She discovered early on that living a lie was as complicated as living with the truth.

  Dampness crept up between the floorboards of the building that housed the trader’s store. Originally built with a dirt floor, the room had never lost the musty smell of wet earth. Wilber Gentry, agent for Durfee and Peck, the franchised traders, stocked every sort of merchandise and crowded it all into one room.

  When Analisa arrived, the store was empty except for Gentry, who was trying to create space for newly arrived merchandise. After purchasing a few kitchen supplies, a small garden trowel, and some flower seeds, Analisa bade the trader good day. The door opened before she could turn the handle and Millicent Boynton, followed by her husband, Captain Danfield Boynton, stepped inside. The woman stopped for a moment, allowing her vision to adjust to the dim light, and recognized Analisa. Weeks ago, at their first meeting, Analisa had hoped they might become friends, but later on, she had found the other woman so vastly different from herself in attitude and spirit that she had chosen not to pursue a closer friendship.

  The delicate blonde reminded Analisa of a hothouse plant far from its natural environment. Millicent preferred to stay indoors most of the time, reclining on the settee in her own house a few doors from Analisa’s.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Boynton, Captain.” Analisa could feel Millicent inspecting her from head to toe, and so she stood tall, stretching to her full height in order to give the woman a better view. She was not ashamed of the simple lines of the gray batiste gown she’d made for herself shortly after her arrival at the fort.

  The dress Millicent wore would have suited someone much younger than thirty-six. Adorned with ribbon and covered with sprigs of embroidered flowers, the style was far too girlish for a woman of Millicent’s age. The gown had none of the crisp tailored lines Analisa admired.

  Captain Boynton merely nodded in Analisa’s direction. Although he was nearly forty, his slight stature and youthful build combined to give the impression of a much younger man. He wore thick-lensed wire-rimmed glasses and continually pushed them upward along his pointed nose. His face, usually shaded by his wide-brimmed cavalry hat, remained pale despite his years spent outdoors. She wondered how he managed to keep his skin so white, in sharp contrast to his faded brown mustache. The man’s reed-thin neck stuck out of his braid-trimmed collar.

  “I hear your husband is out on another of his flower-gathering missions, ma’am.” As Boynton turned his stare in her direction, he slid his spectacles along his nose with his forefinger.

  She chose to ignore the sarcasm in his tone. It was obvious that Danfield Boynton thought Caleb less a man because of his supposed profession.

  “That’s right, Captain, but I expect him to return soon.”

  “I assume he’s been warned that those red bastards out there wouldn’t think twice about lifting his scalp.”

  Analisa swallowed hard, taken aback by the menace in the man’s stare. “Well, he ...” When she failed to respond quickly enough, Boynton ignored her struggle and continued to rail against the renegade Sioux.

  “If I had my way,” he said as he jabbed a cocked thumb toward his chest and glanced around to see who might be listening, “I’d round up every last one of them—man, woman, and child—and put ‘em out of their misery.”

  “Now, Danfield”—his wife beamed as she proudly squeezed his arm—“don’t you go off on your high horse again.” She shrugged and smiled at Analisa. “Sometimes he gets himself so worked up.”

  “I would,” he reiterated. “I’d clean ‘em all out. ‘Nits make lice,’ remember.” His chest swelled with pride as he quoted his hero, Colonel Chiviagton. He paused long enough to pull a gold watch out of his pocket and check the time before he spoke again. “I’ll see you later, m’dear.” Always the gentleman, Boynton bowed slightly to his wife and nodded in Analisa’s direction before he left the store. As the door closed behind him, Millicent moved farther into the room.

  “Mrs. de la Vega ...” Millicent stopped beside a pickle barrel and glanced around the room, leaning close to Analisa before she continued. “I’m glad I ran into
you. My sister-in-law is arriving within the month from Chicago, and I am planning to hold a soiree in her honor. Nothing too extravagant, mind you ...” The woman patted her perfectly formed corkscrew curls into place.

  “Just punch and some desserts. I’m sure I can talk the major into letting the company band perform, and perhaps we can use the Officers’ Club, but if not, the hall will have to do, I suppose.”

  Unable to comment on Millicent’s notion of a “small soiree,” Analisa merely nodded.

  “Anyway, I hope you’ll be willing to help me when the time comes. There’s no way we can hope to decorate well enough to hide the dismal reality of this place.” She fanned her hand languidly, her wrist limp. “But if the others are as deathly bored out here as I am, they will certainly welcome any sort of diversion.” There was a slight pause while she caught her breath and then added, “Don’t you agree?” Her pinched brown eyes bored into Analisa’s.

  “I’ll be happy to help in any way I can.”

  “I’ll let you know about the date as soon as I know myself. I’ll need to ask Major Williamson for his permission of course. It’s a shame he isn’t married. It’s up to the commanding officer’s wife to provide us with social entertainment, you know.” She stopped and glanced outside through the glass-paneled door, hastily smoothing her skirt and then straightening the bodice with a gloved hand. “Then again, I’m glad he isn’t married. He’s certainly an attractive man, don’t you think?”

  Before she could answer, Analisa heard booted feet scrape across the walkway outside and turned to look through the doors herself. Millicent had seen the major approaching from outside.

  The man paused just inside the entry, hat in hand, to speak to the two women. Frank Williamson reminded Analisa of Caleb, although physically, the acting commander of Fort Sully was nothing like her husband. The similarity was in the way the two men moved. They could not be ignored when they entered a room, especially by women, even though Major Williamson was twenty years older than Caleb. Both were at ease with themselves, confidence showing in every step. Where Caleb’s features were dark and arresting, however, Frank Williamson’s more open, smiling appeal was highlighted by snapping green eyes and thick, unruly auburn hair. The major sported a neatly trimmed mustache of the same rich color, which drew attention to the broad smile always in place beneath it. Analisa had never heard a disparaging remark from the major and admired the way he extended a kind greeting to everyone. His calm assurance put her at ease, and she appreciated his concern. He stopped by frequently to see how she and Kase were getting along and to offer his help. Analisa looked forward to his calls and enjoyed the easy openness of the man—but not, she realized, in the same way Millicent Boynton enjoyed his company.

  “Major Williamson, what a surprise!” Millicent’s voice rose as she greeted the striking figure. Analisa stood by silently while Millicent touched his coat sleeve as she emphasized her greeting. “What a relief! I’d just mentioned you to Mrs. de la Vega. We’re both so hoping that you’ll agree to let the company band play for a party in a few weeks. You see, I have company coming to visit and—”

  “Hello, Mrs. de la Vega. Mrs. Boynton.” The major nodded to each in turn, seemingly unaware that he’d cut the woman off in midsentence. His eyes lingered a moment longer on Analisa before he turned to Millicent. “I’m sure something can be arranged, Mrs. Boynton. You need to speak to Sergeant Terry in my office. He’ll make all the arrangements.” Easily dismissing the issue, he again studied Analisa. “Are you getting settled, Mrs. de la Vega?”

  “Yes, Major. Thank you.”

  “Fort Sully’s such a change for you. I hope you aren’t too bored.”

  “Actually, I’m quite used to being alone, and I have Kase.”

  “You must miss the excitement and bustle of Boston.”

  For a moment she was taken aback, then hesitantly answered, “No, actually, I prefer to be alone.”

  Millicent included herself in the conversation. “Well, I loathe it here. Believe me, I’d rather have Danfield stationed anywhere else. The weather out here is dreadful—it’s either too hot or freezing cold—and not a night passes but what I don’t fear for my scalp.”

  “I’m afraid you don’t give the regiment much credit, Mrs. Boynton. Besides, there are far worse forts than Sully. The only problems we have here right now are a few renegade Indians who refuse to turn themselves in.”

  “Those renegades continually attack the work details,” Millicent complained. “There’s not even a stockade around this place. It doesn’t seem much like a fort to me.”

  “I’m sure the troops are more diligent because of that fact, ma’am. They’ve no walls to hide behind.” Dismissing her, he let his quick glance inspect Analisa’s packages. “I hope you found all you need?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “I am going to plant a few seeds, if that’s all right? I’d like to have some flowers near the porch.”

  “That sounds like a fine idea.” His eyes softened as he looked away, staring through the glass door for the briefest moment. “My mother always kept flower boxes along the edge of the porch.”

  Millicent’s razor-edged voice cut in, drawing the conversation back to herself. “I’ve never found the time to fiddle with flowers. Besides it’s such nasty work, all that dirt and all.” She visibly shuddered at the thought.

  “Mrs. de la Vega,” the major began again, ignoring Millicent’s comment, “would you like me to have a man build a couple of flower boxes for your porch?”

  “Oh, Major, I don’t mean to make any trouble. I just want to plant a few seeds.”

  “It’s no problem. I insist. Right now we’ve got more men than I know what to do with. The only important detail out working today is the one escorting the paymaster the last few miles back to the fort.” He brushed his hat against his pantleg and shifted his weight. “I’ll send someone over after the noon meal.”

  Analisa paused, embarrassed by his suggestion, but grateful nonetheless. Gardening would help her pass the time. “My thanks, Major Williamson.” Anxious to return home before Kase finished his lesson, Analisa bade them both good day.

  “Mrs. de la Vega.” With a curt nod, Millicent dismissed Analisa and began to lead Major Williamson toward the center of the store. “Now, Major, I’d like to discuss a few more details with you ...” The sound of Millicent’s voice drifted away as the door closed behind Analisa.

  “How long will it be before the flowers bloom?”

  The major’s deep voice, so close to her ear, startled Analisa. He’d come upon her without warning and was standing next to the porch, watching her as she bent over one of the newly made flower boxes.

  “I see the boxes were completed quickly,” he went on. “Do they meet your approval?” As he smiled she noted the slight space between his two front teeth. The red highlights in his hair were set aflame by the bright afternoon sunlight.

  Resuming her work, Analisa broke up the heavy dirt clods in the box with her new trowel. “Yes, Major. I must say the man you sent over knew exactly what to do. The boxes were finished in no time. I can’t wait until they are full of flowers.”

  “And how long will that be?” he asked.

  “At least six to eight weeks before they sprout. I plan to put a few sunflowers around the porch, too. They’ll bloom late in the summer.”

  Removing his hat, the major sat down on the edge of the porch and leaned against the post that supported the roof. He sat quietly for a time, toying with the braid that circled the crown of his hat while Analisa continued to press the dirt over the seeds. When she finished, she sat back on her heels, kneeling on the rough wooden planks, and brushed the dirt from her hands. With her wrist, Analisa pushed at the wisps of hair escaping the knot on top of her head, then stood and moved closer to the door. The major remained relaxed, leaning against the post, watching the comings and goings of the men across the square.

  “Can I get you some tea, Major? I was just about to have some myself. I’m sure
the water is still hot.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. de la Vega. That would be just fine.”

  When the tea was ready, Analisa used a bread board as a tray and carried out two cups and saucers, her violet teapot, and a plate of koekjes for the major. He gingerly set his cup of tea beside him on the porch and took the cookie plate.

  “You certainly know how to spoil a man, Mrs. de la Vega. I’m not surprised that your husband was so anxious to bring you out here.” He watched while she settled onto the straight-back chair against the wall of the house.

  After taking an ample bite, the major glanced at Analisa. “How did you meet your husband? If you don’t mind my asking, that is.”

  “Not at all.” Analisa kept her voice steady while her mind raced ahead. “We met in Europe. Ricardo studied for a few months in Holland, where he became acquainted with my father through the university. Ricardo is a very famous botanist.”

  “His credentials are quite impressive. I understand you’ve lived all over the world?”

  She tried to speculate as to the tack his questioning was taking, worried that she might become trapped in the web she spun.

  “Not the whole world, Major.” She remembered to smile and suddenly hated having to force her emotions. “We lived in Holland for a time, then moved to Boston. Of course, we stopped in Spain to visit with my husband’s people. We’ve lived in the States nearly four years, so Kase knows little else. That is why his English is so good.” She looked away, unable to meet his steady gaze.

  “You speak Spanish?” He spoke between bites. Was he watching her too intently?

  “Actually, no ... well, very little.” Her nerves taut, her stomach twisted into a knot, Analisa changed the course of the conversation. “Tell, me about the reservation, Major. Why is it so hard to keep the Indians there?”

  “If I knew that, Mrs. de la Vega, I would be a man without a problem.” He set his empty plate down and picked up his cup. The china looked too small for his large hands, but he held the saucer gently and raised the cup to his lips before he answered.