By Way of the Rose

by Cynthia M. Ward

  Time passed. Agnes wrote often. They all anxiously awaited her spring visit as the winter months slowly dragged on.

  Agnes made sure, when she wrote home, to never let her folks know how terribly frightened she was to live out here on this Kansas Prairie. Indians had been growing more hostile towards the settlers. Some had raided her neighbors and the store in town. They mostly took the white man's “:thunder sticks” as they called guns. So far, no one had been harmed, but Agnes feared them and what their reasons might be for obtaining so many weapons. Whenever she left the cabin, she took a rifle with her. No matter if she were just milking the cow or gathering eggs, she dared not be without it.

  Paul worked the field from sun up till sun down leaving Agnes alone with her thoughts all day. She cooked and cleaned and tried to keep herself occupied and happy. Mrs. Tanner, their neighbor three miles away, often stopped by on her way into town. Today her visit was most welcome.

  “Oh, Mrs. Tanner. I'm so glad to see you!” Agnes smiled. “Please come in and have some tea with me. It gets so lonely around here.”

  “Don't mind if I do. I would enjoy the visit.” She stepped through the small door of the cabin.

  “I've been so anxious to show you the new curtains. I finished them just last week.”

  “Oh, that fabric you picked out did make some lovely curtains, didn't it?” Mrs. Tanner walked over to the window to examine the work. ‘Why, this stitching is better than my own and I've sewn for years.”

  “I don't know about the stitching, but they turned out just beautiful thanks to the pattern you lent me. I'm so proud of them. Paul says I go on over these curtains more than I do over my wedding ring.” She laughed. “I suppose it's because they're the first things I've ever made for my own place. I'm starting to feel like a real homemaker.”

  “Well, I'm glad you liked the pattern. You are a right nice home maker. Your place is sparkling clean.” She sat down as Agnes poured them each a cup of tea. “Why don't you come to town with me. It'd do you good to get out for a while.”

  “I don't know. I've not been feeling all that well the past few days. I get tired so easy. I hate to say it, but I think I might be pregnant.”

  “Why would you hate that?”

  “Because I want to go home this spring and I can't if I'm pregnant.”

  “Maybe your folks can come out here.” Then with a hearty laugh she said, “One thing's for sure, we're both going to have to get busy sewing if you're pregnant.”

  “Oh yes, indeed,” Agnes agreed. “Oh, let me give you back your pattern before I forget.” As Agnes stood she heard the sound of horses approaching the cabin. Her heart pounded, yet she tried to stay calm. “I— I wonder who that could be.” She walked to the window and looked out. The color drained from her face as she turned toward Mrs. Tanner.

  “Oh my God!”

  “It's Indians, isn't it?” Mrs. Tanner leapt from her seat.

  “Yes, yes! Quickly, barricade the door while I get the gun!”

  “Barricade? With what?”

  “Anything! Get the table, chairs!” Mrs. Tanner rushed with the chairs but she was too late, the Indians broke through the door. Mrs. Tanner retreated to the far side of the room while Agnes aimed the gun and fired it into the group of renegades.

  From atop the ridge Paul saw the Indians as they pushed their way into the house. He began running. He stopped cold in his tracks as he heard a gunshot. Agnes’ screams could be heard echoing through the countryside. Then another gunshot. Suddenly, all of the yelling stopped. Paul began to run with all his might. He tripped and landed hard on the ground. But just as fast as he hit the ground he stood back up and ran faster toward the house. He saw Indians emerge from the cabin and gallop away on their horses.

  “Agnes! Agnes!” He screamed as he neared the cabin. But she didn't answer him. He ran toward the door. Nothing could have prepared him for this gruesome scene. Beyond the dead Indian lay Mrs. Tanner in a pool of blood. He heard a faint moaning sound from behind the overturned kitchen table. He bolted toward it and pushed it aside. There lay Agnes on the floor in another pool of blood. Blood that flowed from a gaping wound in her belly, and from a lesser but even more sickening wound where she'd been scalped. “Agnes!” Paul wailed out. He bent down and took her in his arms. “Oh, those savages!” he cried. “I never should have brought you here! I shouldn't have! Oh, my sweet Aggie. Don't leave me.”

  “Shh,” She whispered. “It's not your fault. Hold me close. Just hold me.”

  “I'm holding you. I've got you.”

  “I— I love you.” She said, and she was gone.

  “No!” He screamed out. “Oh, God no! Agnes, come back to me. Agnes, please come back!” Paul sat there holding her until that afternoon when Mr. Tanner, in search of his wife, stumbled upon the horrid scene.

  “Hannah!” He fell down to his knees beside her. “Your hair. Your beautiful hair!” he cried. “What have they done to you? I should have been with you!” Paul stood up from the floor.

  “She was lucky, the savages killed her then scalped her. They took my Aggie's scalp while she was still alive! Rotten bunch of devils!” Paul was filled with hate, the kind that makes shivers prickle all over your body— the kind that can rip the life out of anything it chooses.

  Paul noticed one of Agnes’ curtains lying on the floor where it had been ripped from the window. “She was so proud of these.” He whispered as he picked them up. “She was so proud.” He began to cry as he buried his face in the fabric. “Aggie!” he screamed out. The pain resonated in his voice. “Aggie!”

  It was late evening when Marion heard a knock at the door. “Why, Mr. O'Leary! Come in.” Marion held the door open for him to enter. His usually bright and chipper face wore a serious, even grim look. “Is something wrong, Jacob? You look a bit under the weather this evening.”

  “I think we should all have a seat. I have some bad news. Really bad.”

  “What's the matter?” Daniel asked.

  “Maybe the children should leave the room first.”

  “Yes, of course.” Marion ushered them out.

  “I hate to be the one to tell you this. But Paul didn't want you hearing it in a letter.”

  Marion looked at Daniel then back to Mr. O'Leary. “What's happened? Is it Agnes? Is she sick? I knew she was too frail to live a life on that rough Prairie.”

  “Oh, ma'am, this is hard... this is so hard to say. I don't know an easy way of putting it so I'm just going to come right out with it. She's been killed, ma'am.”

  Marion felt all of the air leave her body as she let out a horrific scream that brought the children running back into the room.

  “What's wrong?” John demanded.

  “Please children, get back to your rooms just for now.” Mr. O'Leary spoke softly.

  “Yes, sir.” They obeyed.

  John and Nathan listened to the conversations through their bedroom door.

  “What happened?” Daniel asked again. There was a tremble in his voice.

  “It was Indians. Paul was in the field when he saw them. He tried to get there. But it all happened too quickly, he said. But he wanted you to know that she went down fighting. She killed one before they took the gun and turned it on her.”

  “I can't believe it. She's gone. Agnes is gone!” Marion wailed. Though it was obvious his own pain was overwhelming, Daniel tried to comfort her.

  “It's all right. She's in a better place now.” He placed his hand over hers.

  “I'll never see her again. My girl... I'll never see her again!” She cried into Daniel's shoulder as he wrapped her in his arms.

  John listened in shock. No! This couldn't be true! Dear, sweet Agnes, she couldn't be dead! Into this moment of grief Nathan chose to throw one of his most blistering comments. “See what you're precious savage Injuns can do? They're nothing but animals and we've got one of them in our very own house!” John threw Nathan to the floor and drew his fist back. Then he heard Agnes’ voice in his ear. �
��Don't, John. You promised me.” John slowly stood up trembling in fear and remorse. He had to get out of here. He had to get away from Nathan! He bolted from the room past Marion, Daniel and Mr. O'Leary, then out of the house.

  “I think I will go along now and leave you all to your grief.” Mr. O'Leary slowly stood up and started toward the door.

  “Thank you for coming by and letting us know.” Daniel shook Mr. O'Leary's hand. “I know it wasn't an easy thing to do.”

  “She was like the daughter I never had. It breaks my heart, it does.” Mr. O'Leary bowed his head and left.

  “John must have overheard.” Marion said through her tears. “I must go to him.” She quickly followed Mr. O'Leary out of the cabin.

  Daniel sat there alone for a few minutes still trying to absorb the news he'd just heard. One of his children was dead? It seemed as if he were in an awful dream, one that he desperately wanted to wake up from. But he knew the relief of morning would never come to him or to anyone in his family. This was no nightmare. He would never wake up. Agnes was gone and she would never come back.

  Marion walked to where John stood. She placed her arm around him to steady herself and also to comfort him. “Momma, I can't stay here anymore,” He cried. “I have to go.”

  “Don't do this to me. Not now, not tonight.”

  “I promised Aggie I wouldn't cause you any trouble with Nathan. But I can't keep that promise if I stay here. I'll fight him, I know I will and that would just kill me!”

  “Wait. You promised me that you would wait until you were fifteen. What about your promise to me?”

  “Momma, I'll be fifteen in two months. You have to let me go!”

  “I know. I know, John. Give me time to get over this, then you can go.”

  “I will. Thank you, Momma. I love you so much! I'm so sorry about Aggie. I'm so very sorry!” He sank, weeping into his mother's comforting arms.

  Over the next gloomy days they all tried to come to terms with their tragic loss. Daniel Jr. came home for the week with his wife, son and baby daughter. The joy of spending time with them all, helped soften the terrible blow for Marion. But there was a lingering bitterness that would not leave. A bitterness that emerged whenever she looked at Sarah. She didn't want it to be there, Sarah had meant so much to her, but Agnes was her blood child and she had been murdered by Indians. This same savage blood ran through Sarah's veins. Sweet Agnes had been murdered by Sarah's people. When she looked at the child she didn't see her lovely adopted daughter, she saw Indian savages snuffing out the life of one of her own! In her own private battle she tried to overcome these feelings. Nathan made this task as hard as he possibly could for her. He seemed determined to use this grievous loss to forward his own hate against Sarah.

  John constantly bit his tongue and she knew it was because he felt he had to keep his promises to both Agnes and her.

  A few days had passed when Daniel joined Marion beside the graves of Matthew and the Indian woman. As he placed his hand on her shoulder she quietly sobbed, “I don't know what to do.”

  “The sadness will pass.”

  “The sadness isn't what bothers me, it's the hate. I've never had hate like this and it scares me. I love Sarah, but every time I look at her all I can see is Agnes suffering and dying. Why did this happen to us?” She began to weep. “We've always tried to live right. We've always helped people and loved everyone. We ignored the danger and took in an Indian orphan. This is how we're repaid? Our own daughter's life snuffed out before she's had a chance to really live it! Why?” Marion cried out as she dropped to her knees and pounded her fists on the grave of the Indian woman. “Why! Why! Why!”

  “Stop it!” Daniel took her by her arm and lifted her from the ground and looked deeply into her large brown eyes. “It wasn't these Indians, it was renegades. You can't blame all for what some do, you taught me that, remember? Evil is not confined to one race. Sarah is one of the good ones and she's our daughter.”

  Marion buried her face in Daniel's broad chest as she wept. “Help me. Please help me not to hate them all!” But it was too late, the seed of bitterness had taken root.

  Chapter Five

  * * * *

  John turned fifteen. With his birthday came a great feeling of freedom and also the frightening realization that he was now free to live on his own and be fully responsible for himself. He had done it, he'd made it through without responding to any of Nathan's provoking comments against him or Sarah. There had been times when he'd almost succumbed to his fiery temper. It was time he left home to begin making his own way. With a bit of sadness he packed his bags and said goodbye to his family. It was Sarah who really tore at his heart. When he kissed her little forehead the tears flowed down both of their faces.

  “John, why can't I come with you?” She asked tremblingly through her sobs. “You can't just leave me!”

  “The life I'm about to lead isn't one for you, my Princess. It's going to be hard to find my way and to make ends meet. I can't take care of you, sweetie. Not the way a Princess should be cared for.” John turned from her, hugged his mother and took off walking away from them.

  Sarah's cries could be heard echoing behind him as he walked on with tears flooding down his face. He knew this was the only thing to be done. Perhaps things would be better for all of them without him there. He was no good at the kind of work that he was expected to do. If he found a good job he could send money home and help out. This was the only way he knew to surely keep his promise to Agnes. These thoughts kept him walking toward his new life as an independent man. He would make something of himself. He would make life better for everyone. He was sure that without him there Nathan wouldn't be so angry and this would make life easier. There were times he just wanted to turn and run back home. Sarah's cries echoed in his head. But he forced himself onward. For you Aggie, he whispered through the tears.

  Nathan taunted Sarah freely now that John wasn't around to take up for her and soon even Cora joined in the “fun". “Look at the little savage read.” Nathan punched at Cora as he laughed.

  “Yeah, she's a little Injun John always hanging onto a book.”

  “Have you ever heard of an Injun book worm?”

  “No, but it's the strangest thing I've ever seen!”

  Sarah closed her book and walked out of the cabin.

  “Oh, look. The little savage is upset!” Cora snickered.

  Sarah's greatest joy came when Mr. Hamilton, sticking to his word to educate poor children, built a free school in town. Now she could be with other ‘book worms’ just like herself. She loved her tall and stately teacher, Mrs. Lykes, whose speech was like poetry, always perfectly enunciated as it rolled over her full, cherry red lips. The girls wanted to be like her and the boys wanted to bring her flowers.

  Cora and Nathan wanted nothing to do with the new school. Neither of them had any use for learning, or being stuck in a little building for hours on end. Sarah was glad.

  On her way home from school, Sarah would pick up the mail in town. She was always thrilled when there was a letter from John; she'd grasp it like a priceless treasure and run home as fast as her legs would go. After the letter had been read Sarah tucked it away in her tanned leather bag where she kept all of his letters. She would read and re-read it until the next one came.

  John was in New York now and had a job delivering ice. Sometimes there would be money in the letters. One of them had as much as three dollars in it. He seemed to be doing well, making three dollars and fifty cents a week. He was staying in a boarding house that provided him one meal a day.

  No one knew that John had decided that the provided meal would be the only time he'd eat because he wanted to save as much money as he could. He wanted to make his folks proud. To be the “good son.”

  The days became long and lonely. The nights were even more gloomy with no one around. His room was ragged, worn and bleak. Rats scampered through the rafters. He could hear them nibbling and scratching in the walls as he tried to
sleep. He missed telling Sarah her bedtime stories. He wondered who was doing it, or if anyone was. She can't fall asleep without a story. He worried. Tears stung his eyes as he thought about her and home while he lay in his lonely dark room. He found it hard to fall asleep... the rats’ constant gnawing didn't help. “For the love of God, shut up!” He picked up his boot and threw it hard against the wall. The noise stopped and he lay back on his bed, but soon the gnawing started up again. He wanted to go home. This wasn't the life for him. This wasn't what he wanted. He'd made it without fighting with Nathan. Maybe he could stand Nathan better than the loneliness and rats he'd endured these six months. The next morning, John packed his bag, picked up his pay and bought a ticket for the next train home.

  Sarah waited and watched the whole day John was due to arrive. “The train isn't due in hours,” Marion informed her. But Sarah would not stop looking toward the end of the drive for him. Finally, late that evening, there he was walking as fast as he could toward her. “John's here!” Sarah squealed. She took off running toward him.

  John lifted her up in his arms. “I missed you so much!” he cried. “Oh, how I've missed my sweet Princess and home!”

  “I missed you too... it was awful without you here! Don't ever leave me again!”

  “Well, I'm home now. It won't be awful anymore!” He smiled. Marion rushed up to him as he put Sarah down.

  “John, my boy!” She hugged him tightly. “We got your telegram... I've fixed all of your favorite food. I just can't tell you how wonderful it is to have you home again. You're too skinny!”

  “I can't wait to dive into it, Momma. I missed your cooking something fierce!”

  For a while, things were perfect, even Nathan was decent. But then it started with little things and grew. John held his temper. Anything was better than that rat infested hole in the wall. He had to make this work! He had to let Nathan's tormenting remarks go without rebuttal. He worked from early morning to late evening to prove himself. He wanted to show that he was more than books, brains and a playmate for Sarah. He could pull his weight and contribute to the household. Sarah's small footprints still tracked in his big ones. She was like a little lost puppy.