by Nancy Radke
I put Hero back into his trot, which was smooth and easy to sit. When we’d hit a long, steep stretch, I’d get off, grab the latigo straps and run beside him, letting him half pull me along. It gave both of us a break. We must have done that trip in record time.
It was busy near Ft. Worth, lots of people around, some who fit Elmer’s description. I went straight to the Ranger’s office, spoke to the head gent there and he accompanied me to the bank.
6
Seems Elmer was there at the bank in Ft. Worth, ready to leave, with his money already in a case along with a ticket to New Orleans. The Ranger grabbed Elmer, who looked exactly as the men had described. He started blubbering, and if there was any question in the Ranger’s mind it was gone immediately, seeing Elmer’s reaction. He marched Elmer to jail, money and all, to hold until James Cummings rode in.
The Ranger invited me to have supper with him.
“I’d like that very much, but I have to take care of Hero first. Where’s a livery stable?”
“Don’t take him there. They buy spoiled grain cheap and mix it in with the good.”
“I still have some of my own grain.”
“They’ll feed that to their horses. Put him in with mine. The Rangers have their own barn.” He took a good look at Hero as I untied him. “Would you sell him?”
“Never.”
“Would you consider joining the Rangers?”
I thought about the fact that I was riding a stolen horse. A thief to become a lawman? Besides I was never comfortable long in a town. The people were too close together. “No, thanks.”
He led the way to a nice clean barn and I was able to give Hero a good reward for his hard work. The Ranger pointed out what served as the hotel and left. I joined him later and we ate while he told me about the Rangers and how a few men were trying to keep peace in a land bigger than most countries.
Next day I started back. The day after that, I passed James Cummings on his way to Ft. Worth and gave him the news. I was walking Hero slow, letting him graze now and then as we traveled, so it was almost a week before I got back to the ranch.
The men were out working, but Dawn was there, happy to see me. Now riding gives a man a whole heap of time to cogitate on things. I noticed that on this ride, my thoughts kept dwelling on Dawn.
She was the loveliest thing this side of the Mississippi River. Quiet, but those eyes of hers would sparkle and shine when she was happy. Like right now.
“Come see what I did,” she said.
I followed her to where she had hid my Bible and her new notebook.
She had copied out the whole of John, first, second and third, the short books. She had underlined some of the words and circled others.
“What’s this?” she pointed to the first word circled.
“Propitiation.”
She repeated it several times to get it set in her mind. “I’ve never heard it. What does it mean?”
“It means to make things right, by a sacrifice, or payment. Usually to remove a penalty. See, it says, ‘He is the propitiation for our sins...’”
She finished reading the sentence out loud.
“You’re getting good,” I said. She had figured out many words I hadn’t taught her.
“What’s this one?”
“Abideth.”
She kept me standing there until she had all the underlined and circled words clear. The underlined ones were just repeats of the circled ones. I was amazed at how far she had come.
Now if I could get someone to be the propitiation for me, and pay off Trey so he wouldn’t come beatin’ the bushes for me, I’d be right happy.
Dawn cooked a wonderful meal when her father came back home. She topped it off with a pie made of some black currants she had picked.
The crust was flakey and the smell out of this world, so when I bit in, I wasn’t expecting it to be so sour and salty. I put my hand over my mouth and spit it into my hand. I glanced around the table. Cummings had a shocked expression on his face as he spit his onto his plate.
“Ugh. What did you put in this, you stupid woman? It’s pure salt.”
Dawn shrunk and pointed, wordlessly, toward where the salt and sugar sacks sat side by side on the wooden shelf used as a pantry.
“That one says ‘salt,” he yelled, pointing to the right bag. “Not ‘sugar!’”
She stared down at the ruined pie. “They both begin with an ‘s.’”
“You never made that mistake before. Why now?”
“I tasted them before. This time I read...”
“You can’t read.”
“Yes, she can,” I interrupted. “I’ve been teaching her.”
“Forget it. I don’t want you trying to teach her while you’re working for me. It’s a waste of time, teaching a woman to read. Especially her. She’s too dumb. I have more important things for you to do.”
Dawn got up and started clearing the pie from the table. Her face was set, as if she was holding back her emotions while she took the plates back into the kitchen.
“I’ll teach her in the evenings,” I said. “After work.”
“Not while you’re working for me,” he growled.
I didn’t have to work for him. “Did you find a new bookkeeper?” I asked.
“The fellow at the bank recommended a man, but I told him I already had one.”
“Then you’d better send for him. I told you I would work here until you found a replacement. I straightened out your books, brought them up to date, so I’ll be leaving soon.”
“You were hardly here long enough to draw a wage. Especially if you spent the time teaching Marianne.” He said her name with so much contempt, I had to hold myself to keep from flattening him on the spot.
“Mr. Cummings, I brought your books up to date, spotted a thief, caught him for you, and saved you a goodly amount of money. I deserve both a wage and a reward and I expect to get both of those. I’ll leave in the morning. Count my money out for me now.”
The other hands got up and left, and Cummings stomped into his office. I stopped for a moment at the pantry, for something didn’t ring true to me. Dawn was a better reader than that, to make such a simple mistake.
Cummings unlocked his safe and handed me ten dollars.
“That should do it,” he said.
“Plus the reward.”
“I didn’t put up...”
“Yes, you did.”
He swallowed, handed me twenty more.
“Thank you.”
I turned to leave and just about ran into John as he charged into the room. “Marianne’s gone. She took the filly.”
Cummings jumped to his feet. “How could she? She knew I was planning to breed that mare.”
“Where do you think she went?” I asked.
“Back to the Kiowas, I reckon. She used to try to run away when we first got her back. She won’t find them. They’re gone.” He paced to the front porch and looked off into the darkness. “Stupid, worthless woman.”
“I’ll go get her,” I said. For myself, not for him.
“She’s not worth it. But if you can bring the filly back, I’ll give you two dollars.”
“What’s the mare worth?”
“Ten at least. It’s a good horse.”
I pulled out one of the ten dollar gold pieces he had just given me and handed it to him.
“This pays for the filly. If I find Dawn, we’ll not be coming back.”
“So it’s ‘Dawn’ now, is it? Get off my place.”
“Gladly. But first write me out a bill of sale for the filly.”
We went back inside and he did, muttering all the time. I took the paper, read it, folded it and took it out to the bunkhouse. I had a courier’s pouch I had kept over from the war. I’d placed all my important papers in it, as it was oilskin and nigh perfect waterproof. I took long enough to put Misty’s bill of sale into it before I packed my things.
I gathered my gear, filled my canteens, made one brief stop to
grab my Bible and Dawn’s notebook, and rode off down the road. I wasn’t that far behind her, but the dust was already settled and I stopped Hero, wondering just which way to go. The stars were showing by now, their brilliance increasing as the night deepened. Starlight actually gives off enough light out in the open for a horse to travel by, and there was a glow in the east, like a small fire, that told me the moon would soon be a rising.
Hero pulled on the reins, eager to go, and I remembered that the filly had just come back into heat.
I eased the reins and let him have his head. He turned west on the trail headed toward the mountains, and I just let him go.
She had a good start on us, but ever so often I’d check the trail. Misty’s unshod hoof prints stood out atop all the others. Hero trotted fast, I think faster than he’d ever gone before, and I just eased back in the saddle and let him run under me.
She had probably gotten a half-hour’s start on us, so I didn’t look for her at first. After an hour or so, Hero nickered and started to gallop. I could smell dust now, so knew we were closing in.
More dust than a single horse would make. I topped a rise and looked out over the flat prairie in front of us, now lit by the bright moon.
There she was, surrounded by nine Indians.
Were they helping her or had they captured her?
The flat plain was a flood plain for the Brazos. I could see it moving down the middle of the valley like a huge, wide snake.
They were headed straight for it. Was it shallow enough to cross?
I urged Hero into a flat-out run, hoping we could reach them in time.
There. They’d seen me. Some were pointing at me while others were going down the riverbank.
As I drew close I could see that someone had built a two-horse ferry. They were taking the horses across on this, Misty and Dawn included.
I got to the river’s edge just as the last of them ferried across. I looked at the rope system that had been set up. The ropes appeared good and stout and I took hold of them to pull the ferry back over to my side.
It was not to be. Laughing, they cut the ferry loose and let it drift away on the river. Then they waved to me and rode away.
Dawn hadn’t waved. She had looked at me, but hadn’t moved her hands. I figured they were tied down.
That river was flooding, carrying a huge volume of water. It was not shallow nor was it tame.
I dismounted and waited until the Indians had ridden off with their prize. They figured I couldn’t cross here. Well, maybe not, but I would die trying.
I pulled off my boots and tied on my moccasins, then tied my boots and guns to the saddle horn to keep them as dry as possible. I waited while Hero’s breathing steadied down. I’d do Dawn no good, getting river drowned.
He pawed impatiently at the ground, so I climbed on and headed him into the water.
“Well, Hero, do you want that filly bad enough?”
He leaped out and in with a big splash, then started swimming. I kicked my feet out of the stirrups and slid off his tail, grabbing it and hanging on, letting him pull me across. As soon as my weight was off him, his back rose out of the water and he swam easily, strong, powerful strokes that carried him out into the middle where the current was stronger.
I watched upstream for logs or other debris, coming down on us, but most floated so low I couldn’t see them until they hit us. We drifted downstream as he swam, so he came out quite a ways down from where he entered. He clambered up the bank, pulling me along with him, then shook like a big dog, flinging water every which way.
I looked back at that river. Those Indians probably figured I was on my way home by now. They wouldn’t be expecting me.
I dropped the reins on Hero and climbed further up the bank, scouting ahead. It was still dark out, but the moon was full, so I could see them as easily as they had spotted me earlier.
They were riding out of the flood plain area and into the brush beyond. I waited until I figured they’d all cleared it, then mounted Hero and put him back into his trot.
I slowed down as we reached the brush on the edge of the plain. I didn’t want to barge in there with Hero and give them another horse to steal.
Dismounting, I slipped down the trail, checking it out, then stopped, my nerves on full alert.
A small glow showed where their fire was. They were laughing and talking, secure in having left me on the other side of the river.
I counted them. Eight, plus Dawn. Where was number nine?
Glad I had my moccasins on, as I could feel the brush under my feet, I pulled back from the camp and circled it, looking for number nine. He was with the horses, stroking Misty.
Now to get Dawn away. I’d probably have to forgo Misty’s escape.
They had tied Dawn to a small tree. I circled around and came up behind her, took my knife and slit the bonds.
“Matthew,” she whispered, “cut Misty free. Then run.”
It meant me crawling back to where the horses were, but by then number nine had rejoined the group at the fire.
The horses snorted as I got close, uncertain of who I was. I untied Misty, pulled her head down, then tied the reins behind her ears so she wouldn’t think she was ground-tied. I was circling back to the trail where I’d come in, knowing I was pushing my luck, when a shout from the campfire told me somebody was figuring things out.
Misty had moved into the middle of camp, and they were standing there, looking at her. Dawn whistled.
The filly threw up her head, causing the Indian trying to catch her to miss, then she ran to Dawn who swung on and rode out, headed down the trail.
I followed, as fast as I could run, being one jump ahead of the raiding party. As I reached Hero, I turned and fired into the brush with my rifle. I heard a yelp, and figured I’d at least winged one. I fired several more times, then mounted and rode off after her.
Dawn rode Misty as fast as she would go, across the flood plain and up to the river.
She looked around as I joined her. “How did you cross?”
“Hero swam it. We’re going to have to swim back.”
“There’s no way...”
“Get off.”
She jumped off. “There’s quicksand in this river. And snakes. Water moccasins.”
Now she told me. I pulled my rope off my saddle and dropped it over Misty’s head. Lifting one of her front feet, I made it so the noose wouldn’t strangle her.
We could hear the Indians coming, their yells of anger preceding them. They had had to go back for their horses, once they saw us ride off.
I took the rifle and shot in their direction, pumping it to fire as fast as I could, hoping it would slow them down. It made them cautious, and they backed off.
“Get on the downstream side of Hero and tie one hand to the saddle.”
She pulled off her heavy skirt, then tied herself to the saddle as I put my rifle away.
“Go, Hero.”
I grabbed his tail and smacked him on the rear—I’d never done that before—and he sprung into the river, dragging Misty and Dawn with him. I got jerked off my feet, but soon we were all in the water, with Hero headed to the other side.
The Indians came up to the river after we were twenty feet from shore, and commenced firing at us. I felt a deep, burning sensation in my shoulder and arm, the side holding on to Hero’s tail, and pulled my other hand over to grab hold and help support me.
7
Misty was struggling in the silt-laden river, but the rope gave her help. Besides this was her first time across and she was not tired.
I glanced back. Some of the Indians were trying to get their horses to enter the river. They finally gave up, shot a few more times and left.
I kicked my feet, trying to help Hero out. He was laboring now, and we were being carried downstream as well as forward.
When we finally reached the riverbank it was too steep for him to climb out. He turned and started swimming downstream. I wondered if I let go of his tail, may
be I could get up on the bank and help him. Then the pain in my shoulder reminded me I was probably going to have to leave it all to him.
The river curved in a large bend, swinging away from us, so we were on a shallow side. Hero got a purchase on the bed, struggled through some deep sand, and flung himself out of the water, pulling the rest of us with him.
He was shaking, tossing Dawn about, and I had to grab his head and stop him long enough for her to untie herself.
“Are you hurt?” I asked.
“No. They grabbed me, and I told them in the Kiowa language to leave me alone. They thought that was a big joke, but they just tied my hands and led me away.” She shuddered. “I didn’t think anyone was following me.”
She put her head against my chest and her body shook. “I don’t think I could face that again.”
“I know. I wasn’t about to let them take you.”
She straightened and I let her step away.
“How did you find me?” she asked.
“I just rode to the fork in the road, then Hero followed Misty.”
“Did Pa send you to bring me back? Cause I’m not going.”
“No. He didn’t send me anywhere. I drew my wages and left.”
“I know it wasn’t right to take Misty, but Lewis would have her ruined in less than a day.”
“He can’t. I just bought her.”
“Pa sold her to you?” You could tell she didn’t quite believe it.
“He didn’t have a choice. There’s a bill of sale in my saddlebags. You own her now.”
“How?”
“The paper says she’s mine, and as soon as I sign it over, she’s yours. I got her for you. Did you leave because of Misty?”
“No. Yes. She was part of it. But he said you couldn’t teach me...”
“That was when I decided to leave, too.”
We looked at each other.
“You don’t have to go back to him, Dawn. He’s your pa, but you are of age now. He can’t control you any longer.”
She started to cry, then collapsed on the ground. It caught me by surprise. I hadn’t quite realized how afraid she was of him.
