Bright Morning Star

by J. R. Biery

  As soon as everything was in order, even the half-cooked beans loaded, the wagon was in motion. Claire relaxed as Father walked beside their wagon, talking a little to Mother and Claire about how fortunate they had been to have such fair weather.

  When she looked through the gathered canvas of their wagon she could see Mary Anne singing to Barney as Bella looked forward and then down at her son. At least he seemed a little better today. Maybe Mother’s salve would heal him, or at least his breathing trouble.

  <><><>

  Minutes later, the fathers of the cousins Faye and Dorothy Brewer pulled up, their conversation about the long-legged woman who had out-paced them forgotten. In the middle of the road, seeming to appear silently out of nowhere, an Indian wearing a feathered bonnet sat mounted on a small pinto horse. He raised his feathered staff in one hand, his open palm in the other.

  Although they both had rifles on their saddles, neither thought to use them. The men sat frozen, until the Indian spoke again. “Greetings.”

  One of the brothers nudged the other and both held their hands in the air to mimic the man’s gesture. The long-haired Indian kicked his horse and rode up to them. Using surprisingly correct English, he announced, “I am Washakie, Chief of the Shoshoni, friend to white men, enemy of Sioux and Blackfeet. I am here to collect my toll.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Jim was the first to spot them, yelling to Claire and Mother to look. Father and Henry rode up. As always, when there was something interesting to see, Mary Anne scrambled down from the Lambton’s wagon and raced to climb up to join the Wimberleys. Henry moved his horse to a protective position in front of his wife and her son.

  Although all the travelers had been drilled on what they should do if Indians attacked, no one had suggested what they should do if a friendly one just rode up to the wagon train to talk.

  At least the Brewers knew to bring the Indian to talk to Father. Claire felt the small hairs stand up on her arms, even though she knew this was one of the friendly Indians. They had seen several when they were doing business in Independence. One had even looked on with interest at what she held aloft when Claire was helping to sell Henry’s surplus stock.

  As the three men rode back through the wagon train, each family they passed became excited and alarmed. There was a wave of commotion and talking as they wove through. The men riding beside the Indian kept saying, “Make way there, we’ve got a big chief come to pow-wow with our Wagon Master.” The man talking, stumbled over the Indians’ name.

  Each time, the chief repeated what he had told the front riders. When they finally reached the Wimberley’s wagon, all were whispering excitedly in anticipation. Annoyed by all the commotion, Henry shushed them. With great dignity, the old chief spoke loudly enough for all to hear.

  “I am entitled by treaty with my friends, the white knives, to a toll. A horse or cow will be paid by any party passing through my land. I have been fighting those cowards the Sioux, who passed through the Three Forks after their battle at a place you know as Little Big Horn. These are not good Indians. They kill many whites, many of my people too.”

  Father Wimberley extended a hand and the chief clasped it at the elbow with surprising strength. Father tried to copy the position, grabbing the Indians elbow so that their arms were pressed together from wrist to elbow in each other’s grasp. Looking his visitor dead on, he surprised everyone as he spoke. “We will gladly honor your treaty. Thank you for your friendship. Give us a minute to talk.”

  He turned around to look for Bonnie, spoke to his daughter instead. “Claire, get some food for our guest while we work this business out.”

  Shaking, Claire stepped down from the wagon and walked to the rear to find the food Bonnie had packed for lunch. She held onto the side of the wagon, breathing deeply as soon as she passed out of sight of the Indian. Finally, she stilled the shaking long enough to lift the covered tin plate and hold it against her chest as she walked unsteadily over to the strange man and his odd horse. The little mustang was spotted like some of the oxen in big brown and white splotches. Claire said a silent prayer as she stepped closer and closer. She heard Bella gasp behind her. When she looked at them, she saw Bella had grabbed Henry’s arm to keep him from drawing his rifle.

  Claire continued to step forward. If only Bonnie were here. She would probably be enjoying the chance to speak up to the Indian and tell him what to do like she did everyone else these days. Claire could imagine how happy the girl would be if she were going to offer food to a real live Indian.

  Channeling her friend’s courage, Claire stepped forward and lifted the plate to Chief Washakie, looking down at the ground as she did so. “Please accept this food. I hope you enjoy it.”

  As soon as he took the tin plate, she backed away. The old Indian’s eyes crinkled as he studied the skittish girl. To the whites she would be pretty. Little nose, big eyes the color of sky, and hair like new corn tassels. He smiled down at the frightened girl. She reminded him of his white horse that had pale eyes and pink nostrils and lips. It could not see or hear very well, but it was easy to ride. He looked from her to the others sitting on the wagon seat. The older one looked much like the same face. He smiled and pulled loose a Spanish coin with a string of beads from the front of his buckskin. He held it out to a pretty little girl with eyes like storm clouds.

  She hid behind the older woman until Washakie smiled and shook the present at her again. A boy draped over a big ox yelled at her. “Take it silly, he’s trying to give you a present.” Another boy repeated the words, “Take it,” and he saw the boys were alike, with eyes like grown men. Mary Anne stood up and reached across Mother Wimberley’s lap to take the present.

  She studied the coin and beads, then looked up into the kind, wrinkled face. “Thank you.” Then she gave him a shy smile and the Indian grunted in pleasure.

  The Chief stepped his horse closer to the second wagon. The woman on the seat was good, darker with a fine nose. She looked angry when he peeked over the front board of the wagon to see the sick boy she had hidden there. Good woman, more like Indian than white. The man, with wild fair hair and a mustache to match, moved between the woman and the Chief.

  Chief Washakie raised his hand again. “Come in peace, collect treaty toll.”

  Claire stared at Henry, the man’s face had turned pale and his jaw shook, whether from fear or anger, she wasn’t sure. He hooked his thumb at the sound of the other wagon men moving forward. Claire squeaked as she saw Indians appear on either side of the trail. She pointed toward them and all the people became quiet.

  Chief Washakie stared at the gift being lead toward him. It was the tallest horse he had ever seen. With a strong voice, the leader of the group said. “Here, this is the best horse in our wagon train. You will never find a bigger horse than Bess, or a more willing mount. Take this horse and your men. Leave us in peace,” Father Wimberley said.

  Balancing the plate on one knee, Chief Washaki took the reins, shook his lance in the other hand. “It is good when the white men honor the treaty of the long knives. We fight the same enemies. Shoshoni and whites live in peace.” The Chief turned his pony awkwardly around, the reins pulled behind him as the big mare stood braced flat footed. He looked into the intelligent brown eyes of the big horse and clucked to her, relieved when she snorted, but lowered her tall head to trot along behind.

  As soon as the Indians were out of sight, Father Wimberley called out to all the people to get quiet and to get moving. In their panicked flight, no one thought about the missing girl.

  <><><>

  As soon as they calmed down, Father Wimberley slowed the train. Claire climbed down, wondering what Bonnie would do for lunch, when the impact of the missing girl hit her. Stumbling at first, she rushed to her Father’s arms. “Bonnie’s gone.”

  He looked about, whispered up to Henry. “Did you see Bonnie on the road?” He released Claire to her Mother’s arms as he turned to mount again. Calling men together, he quickly arranged
for a search party. He stopped his horse by the frightened women and children. “Don’t worry, we’ll find her. Take care of the animals and go ahead and eat, we’ll be back in minutes.”

  Claire looked on the verge of hysterics, the children were all whining. Father Wimberley caught his daughter’s shoulder and turned her back to face him. He leaned forward from his saddle to whisper to her. “Get hold of yourself.” His eyes bored into his daughter’s. “Bonnie’s a strong, fierce woman with a wealth of common sense. You step into her place and take care of everyone. Keep these children calm.” He raised up and stared down at her. “Until we’re back with her, you’re in charge.”

  Claire felt his expectations like a heavy weight around her shoulder. She stared around her. Barney was raising his voice into a high keen of fear. Drawing herself up as tall as possible, she forced a smile.

  “Finally, a break. Let’s see what Bonnie made for us to eat, ladies. Children, let’s get busy watering the stock.” She stood with her hands on her hips as she looked around at the other travelers who were just now dismounting. Determinedly she went from wagon to wagon, explaining that they were going to rest for a minute, and why. To each of the men who had remained with the wagons she reassured them that the others would be back in minutes. She shared her Father’s orders quickly and was soon back at the wagon.

  Mother held out the tray with one last biscuit sandwich. “I don’t know what the men will eat when they get back, this is the last one. We gave that savage half of our …”Hearing herself, she paused and swallowed hard.

  “We should have time. We’ll make something as soon as we finish eating.”

  When the boys ran up, dropping crumbs to their dogs, they were panting. “We’ve got them all watered and we’ve eaten. Can we take Tip and Tyler and look along this part of the trail, as long as we stay in sight of the wagons.

  Claire saw the fear, heard their request for permission, but knew they would be gone to search, whether she gave permission or not. The dogs looked as bright and eager as the two boys. “Of course, but search one side and come back to me to report. Then search the other. Do not go off on your own.” She whispered fiercely. “We need you to stay and protect us.”

  She hoped it was what Bonnie would have told them. It seemed to work. Tom reached out to give her a hug and so did Jim on the other side. Both were already nearly her height. “Don’t worry, Claire, we’ll protect you. Do you want us to carry the shotgun?”

  Claire knew what her father would have told them. Trying not to pull their strength to her when they needed it the most, she shook her head. “No, I’d better keep and carry it while you’re gone. Go on, be quick about it so you can come right back to us.”

  <><><>

  The search went on for two hours, but no trace of the girl was found. When Tom’s dog Tip gave a yelp, the four came racing back. They had found a scrap of blue shirt with its brass buttons. Claire picked up the big shotgun and hoisted it to her shoulder. Aiming toward the tree line to their right, she fired. In astonishment, she ended up sitting on the ground. Before the boys could pull her up, the search party ran toward the wagons.

  Tom held up the clean scrap of blue cloth with a pair of flat brass buttons. Father Wimberley took it, extended a hand to rest on top of the lad’s head for a minute. “Good job, son.”

  He turned away from them, pulled the men away to talk. Only Henry remained with the women. Claire offered him the beef jerky and apples that they had ready for the men. He looked offended, but didn’t complain. He took a dry strip and an apple while Claire poured him a cup of cold coffee.

  Claire wondered for a moment how he could stand to be here while the men were arguing so fiercely. Henry looked at her as she dusted her skirt, and when she straightened, shrugging his shoulder he whispered. “Are you all right, now?”

  The annoyance she felt evaporated. Trying not to smile she nodded her head, held out an arm for Mary Anne to rush beneath. “We’re fine, go see what they’ve decided.”

  <><><>

  “I don’t see how we can go off and abandon one of our own in this country, especially a woman,” Father Wimberley said.

  Some nodded, but it was the Raglon boy who said, “She should have had better sense than to go traipsing off in this country. Don’t see none of the other women acting like that.”

  The Brewers looked at each other, and then seemed to come to an agreement. “She ought to be fine, from what we’ve seen. I mean she walked right past our horses this morning. She’s probably taken cover somewhere. Our trail only leads in one direction. Woman like that shouldn’t have any trouble following it and catching up.”

  “Is that what you’d want us to do if it was one of your wives or daughters?”

  Henry finished his coffee, unaware of those watching him resentfully. All the other men were tired and on edge. Henry asked for and was handed the neatly cut square of uniform. “How many men were in that patrol, do you think? Twenty-five, thirty?”

  Father Wimberley stared at the man, his eyes cold with resentment. Others raised their voices, all uncertain what to do next. When the Raglon boy asked the question, “So what are we going to do?”

  “We have three choices. Stay here, eat a bite, and then ride out another time to search before dark. Second, conduct a search and send a rider on ahead to Ft. McPherson for help. Third, admit the girl was taken by the Indians today and ride on to the Fort right away.”

  Henry Lambton raised the winning argument. “If a troop of trained soldiers weren’t safe from Indian attack, who among us has any chance of getting there alive?”

  They all agreed they were better off doing as many miles as they could to reach the fort and safety themselves. They were still nearly two weeks away at best.

  When Father rode toward them, Claire could see from the droop of his shoulders the news was bad. Mary Anne started to cry and Claire held her, quietly, weeping openly.

  The boys wanted to argue, but Father Wimberley shook his head. “Let’s move ‘em out. We’ve got a lot of miles to make before sundown.”

  Claire saw Bonnie’s image in her mind’s eye, the way she had looked on the trail after Calum Douglas left. She was shining in the summer air, laughing and singing with the children. For a moment it had looked as though she would take flight, she was so happy.

  Smiling, she shook the little girl. “She’s fine, I know it.” She looked to the lads who looked so lost. “We’re going to rush to the fort. Lieutenant Calum Douglas will be there. If anyone can get her back for us, he can.”

  For the first time, the boys looked hopeful.

  As the train began to move out, Claire didn’t climb back onto the wagon seat. Instead, she determinedly whipped the flank of the lead oxen on the wagon Mother was guiding. “Come on Meshach, hurry up there boys,” she called. But as she walked along, she knew she was a poor imitation of her friend. No one talked about their fears, but each man and woman felt exposed and vulnerable. If the Indians could take a woman as fit as Bonnie, who among them was safe?

  Claire swallowed her own fears, tried not to remember when Tarn had struck Bonnie down before her. Tried not to let all the questions, fill her with panic. The Indians had seemed kind. They were the only Indians, they had seen on the trail. If they had Bonnie, she had to believe they would recognize her goodness and be kind to her. But Claire’s lip trembled at the thought. ‘What would they do to her?’

  She coughed on the small clouds of dust that rose with each firm step of her tiny boots. When she wanted to cry, she reached up to touch her bruised shoulder and let the ripple of pain stop her thoughts and the tears. She had to be brave for Bonnie and the children.

  <><><>

  The day Bonnie went missing, seemed the longest day in her life. Darkness wasn’t far away when they finally made camp, far away from the site on Father’s map and thus far away from water. Again the men and children had to carry water to the complaining oxen.

  The train had stopped beside the only grass for mile
s and circled the wagons. Tonight, the men would split guard duty, each one of the four staying on alert guard for two hours before waking the next due to patrol.

  Claire used the water from the barrel, moving her head in disgust when something moved in the bucket. It took a while, but she was able to start a fire without having to waste gunpowder. That alone gave her a sense of pride. Carefully, she put the kettle of beans over the fire, letting Mother and Mary Anne show her how Bonnie would have done it.

  Just hearing her friend’s name, brought tears to her eyes. Claire was too tired and impatient to cry again. She poured the water through a piece of cheesecloth into the coffee pot.

  With every motion, she blocked the fear with the single question, ‘what would Bonnie do.’ With extra tenderness she served each of her fellow travelers their supper with a troubled smile. The food might be terrible, but she knew it would get better. As exhausted as she was, the work kept the fears at bay. Claire dreaded having to face her bed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Claire struggled to sit up, suddenly aware of one of the horses nickering at something in the dark. Her head ached, and she was surprised that she had finally fallen asleep. She had been reliving the terror of having to serve food to the old Indian Chief.

  She recalled how he had studied each member of their party, weighing their attributes as though he might take any of them as his ‘toll.’ She had somehow felt disappointed when he dismissed her, and turned to Mother, and then to Mary Anne. The little girl had accepted his tribute to her beauty and now wore the Spanish gold piece pinned to her gown. Claire had pinned it there, reassuring the little girl and her brothers that if the Indian Chief had Bonnie, he would not harm her.

  They had looked like they might argue, then agreed with her assessment. Still, they were frightened. She noticed the lads accepted Father’s orders to sleep under the wagon instead of the tent. She knew he wanted to keep them safe without Bonnie to protect them. But he had told them he wanted them nearer to protect the girls.