by Linda Ford
Thinking of Star, he squinted, held his breath, preparing for the avalanche of emotion to thunder through him. There’d been too many deluges in the past three days to count. They’d started as he watched Star play with her doll, tying one foot back and then freeing it. The first avalanche almost swept him off his feet, literally. He would have given his own limbs if they could have fixed hers.
The second came hard on its heels when she’d gone to Morning wanting reassurance she would walk and run in heaven. Why should she have to wait until then to be free? He vowed he would earn money and order those shoes as quickly as humanly possible. He wanted to do more, but some things were out of the world of possibility. Charlotte declared she would pray for a miracle. He knew she didn’t mean only Star’s foot. He wished he believed in miracles as readily as Charlotte did. Right now he’d give his right arm for one.
He couldn’t stop his thoughts from returning to another avalanche. Something grabbed his heart and squeezed it cruelly as he remembered Star’s words: “I love you very, very much.” He wished he could hear those words every day of his life. Just wasn’t possible. Although the words twisted his gut, their sweetness soothed the sting.
He slowed his steps, waiting for the roar of emotions to pass before he entered the post office. One thing he appreciated, Charlotte hadn’t mentioned the incident on the trip home. He couldn’t have handled her pointing out how much Star needed him. He pretty much figured he’d end up telling her he needed the child even more than she needed him. He wanted to be the one to encourage Star through each day, to tell her he loved her very much and her crooked foot only made him love her more. He wanted to hear her sweet words of love every day he lived. But acknowledging his love for her did not change one thing—she would be better off raised as an Indian than facing rejection in a white world. Or worse, sharing his half-breed world, fitting with neither race.
He’d been glad of Charlotte’s quiet presence beside him on the trip back to town, and when she squeezed his arm, he gripped the steering wheel extra hard to stop himself from reaching for her. He wanted to hold her close and breathe in the sweet, fresh scent of her hair and skin, like the breeze off the mountains on a spring day. He kept himself from opening his arms to her, but he couldn’t stop the new cleft forming in his heart that let in the pure sunshine of her presence. She knew how it felt to be rejected. It made her sweet, kind and understanding. For the first time he felt safe with someone besides his parents and the Eaglefeathers.
He reached the post office and firmly pushed his distracting thoughts out of the way. He threw open the door and jerked to a halt.
Charlotte stood halfway across the room.
He hadn’t seen her since yesterday when, glad of the excuse, he’d stayed home with Pa while Charlotte and Ma went to church. He’d left this morning before anyone else awoke.
She turned, saw him, and her eyes flared with welcome. Her mouth curved in a smile, making him long for things not possible for a man like him—home and family and permanency.
“Hi.” Her voice filled with the sound of happiness—he let himself think she was glad to see him.
He nodded and grinned. She indicated he should do his business first, so he asked for an envelope, addressed it and made out the money order for an amount to cover the cost of the shoes.
Charlotte stood close behind, watching. “I hope they help,” she murmured.
“Me, too.” His voice sounded thick and he cleared his throat.
“You want the mail?” Mr. Scofield asked.
“Sure thing.”
Mr. Scofield handed him three thin envelopes. He checked them. Two were for Pa. The third for Miss Charlotte Porter. The expected letter from Harry? For a moment he thought of pretending it wasn’t there. The minute she opened it she would be off to join her brother without a thought in any other direction. Belonging was more important to her than anything else. Certainly more than something as uncertain and bound to be full of rejection as staying with him would be.
No, he didn’t mean him. He had other plans.
And even if he did mean her, he couldn’t think of her being treated like a white squaw.
He handed her the letter.
“It’s from Harry.” She pressed it to her chest. “Finally.”
Kody knew how she’d react—nothing mattered but rejoining Harry, the brother who didn’t mind deserting her on the farm.
She stepped back to a corner by the window, carefully ran her thumbnail under the flap and pulled out one page. She looked inside the envelope and shook it.
“I thought he would send a money order.”
She unfolded the page, torn from an old school scribbler, and read the letter aloud. “‘We are in a tiny shack. Can’t find work. You must wait. I will send for you at first opportunity.’” She gave a tiny cry of distress and read the letter again, her mouth silently repeating the words.
Kody stepped closer, aching to comfort her, assure her he didn’t mind if she stayed around Favor for a while.
She folded the page, placed it carefully back in the envelope and pushed it into her pocket. “How could Harry simply abandon me? I haven’t even been able to write and inform him I’m with your parents. For all he knows I’ve starved to death on poverty acres. The house could have fallen down around my head.” She flung an angry look at Kody. “Maybe he hopes I’ve decided to marry Lother out of desperation.” She shuddered. “If you’d turned out to be a scoundrel, I could be on my way to Canada without leaving a trace. But does Harry care? Apparently not. He didn’t even ask how I was.”
She pushed past Kody and stormed from the building.
Kody followed on her heels, hoping she didn’t intend to do something foolish. He’d seen how her anger fueled her to do things she wouldn’t normally consider.
“Charlotte—”
“Don’t talk to me. I’m not in the mood.” She headed down Main Street, then reconsidered and spun around.
He leaped out of her way.
“I do all I can do to please both him and Nellie. I run errands, do the dirty jobs, all—” she flung him an accusing look as if he was personally at fault “—without complaining. But does it count? No. I’m his sister. You’d think it would make me part of the family, but it doesn’t seem to.”
She made a sharp right and steamed onward. She drew in a long breath and slowed. “Sometimes it’s mighty hard to see God’s hand in these things.”
They walked on at a slower pace, passing the newer houses.
“I told you about being sent to the Applebys.”
He felt angry just thinking about how she’d been treated. “I gather it wasn’t a happy experience for you.”
“He had no right to send me away, but Nellie…Never mind. The reasons no longer matter. But I was a kid, a babe in the woods. I needed someone to protect me. I had no one.” She stopped and fixed Kody with a look so full of pain and confusion that he took her hand and pulled her off the street into a little park. He led her to a bench and waited for her to sit, then dropped down beside her.
He wanted to hold her in his arms, make all the bad things go away, but he didn’t know how she’d react to such a bold move. So he hesitantly took her hand and let out a tense breath when she gripped it.
“Jerrod, the oldest Appleby boy, eighteen years old, thought himself pretty special and so did his parents. What Jerrod wanted, Jerrod got. And when he decided he wanted me, they turned a blind eye. They had to see the way he watched me, how he made excuses to come into the kitchen when I was along. But who was I? Just a servant girl. His sister, Viola, was the only one who showed me any kindness. And she saw. She watched Jerrod and when he came to my bed one night, she followed him. She called her parents to confront him. But of course, he wasn’t at fault. I was. They wanted to turn me into the street, but Viola took me to a friend and contacted Harry.” Her voice filled with bitterness. “I’m surprised he came to get me.”
“Let me guess. That’s when Nellie had a baby.”
“Yes. Ricky. But I didn’t care why they’d let me come back. I was that glad to be safe.” She squeezed his hand so hard he wondered where she got the strength.
The wind whined around the trees, carrying with it the never-ending supply of dust that stung Kody’s cheeks. He lifted his face to the bite of each particle. He dared the wind to do more, cut his skin with its tiny, sharp weapons, shred it; he would let blood gush from each torn pore. Even that would not equal the way Charlotte’s words tore at his insides. He hoped he’d meet Harry someday. His muscles clenched. Best for both of them if he never did.
Charlotte sighed and leaned back, still clinging to his hand. “You see, I know what it’s like to be forsaken by your only living relative.”
Her silent accusation iced his veins. He withdrew his hand. “How can you make this about Star? She’s in a safe place. Morning and John love her.”
“Yes, they do, but will it be enough when she discovers the truth, or at least cruel hints of it?”
“Why should she?”
“Let’s see.” She held up one finger. “First, everyone knows she isn’t Morning’s child.” She held up another finger. “People can figure out who might be the parents by simple deduction. Or by gossip and guesswork.” She held up a third finger. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed, she doesn’t have Indian eyes.”
“They’re pretty dark.”
She made a disbelieving sound.
He faced her squarely. “You also discovered what it’s like for people not to accept you. It makes you afraid, vulnerable. It hurts.”
She took his hand. “I’m sorry you’ve been hurt by what people say. But how can it turn you from your own child? She needs you. You need her.”
He wanted to pull away from Charlotte. He hadn’t meant himself when he said rejection hurt. He wanted to deny what she said. He couldn’t. Neither could he escape the knowledge Morning and John might be able to give Star what he could not—a place where she’d be accepted. “She’s safe with them. They would never send her away or put her in a position like Harry did to you.”
Charlotte’s shoulders sagged. “Yes, at least she’ll be safe.”
Kody’s anger fled. “You no longer need Harry to keep you safe.” He ached to promise her he would be willing to do it, but he couldn’t. He didn’t plan to stay. “Besides—” he started to grin “—you’re no longer a child and quite capable of taking care of yourself. Haven’t you proved it several times since Harry left? Maybe it’s served a good purpose—you have learned how strong you are.”
Her gaze clung to him as if seeking truth and reassurance from him.
He smiled, quite willing to give her whatever she needed.
Slowly, the tension in her face faded. “I have done some surprising things since I met you.” Her eyes widened. “I guess I have you to blame.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Or should I thank you?”
“You can thank me if you want.” He studied her lips and thought of a time-honored way of expressing thanks. He jerked his attention back to something he needed to say. If he could only remember what it was. Oh, yeah. “But you don’t need me to goad you into being strong. That’s what you are and you need to realize it.”
She searched his face. Her gaze delved deep into his eyes. “You might not like me strong, ready to defend and protect.”
He wondered if her cheek was as smooth as he imagined and touched it. His heart leaped to his fingertips at the warm, soft texture. Slowly, giving her lots of chance to duck away, he lowered his head and touched her lips in the softest form of a kiss.
A pair of women passed. One tsked loudly. “Did you see that?” she proclaimed in a loud whisper. “Some people have no decency. You expect it from his sort, but her?” She sniffed loud enough to suck the dust from a thirty-foot radius.
Kody jerked back. He would have bolted to his feet, but Charlotte grabbed his hand. She grinned at him. “Didn’t you just point out I need no protecting? I’m a strong person, remember?”
She rose slowly, seemingly unaffected by the way the women glanced over their shoulders, and she held his hand firmly. He could have easily broken away if he tried. He didn’t.
“Where are we going?” Charlotte asked. She seemed happy in spite of her letter from Harry.
Kody hoped he might have something to do with it. At his invitation, after supper they left Ma reading to Pa in the front room and headed outside for a walk. “Do you want to see where I used to play?”
“Sure”
He’d hardly been able to keep his eyes off her throughout the meal and had to force himself to pay attention to Ma as she told how Pa walked from the bedroom without any help. He was glad Pa showed improvement, but it paled in comparison to the idea of spending time with Charlotte.
He took her hand, liking how it fit perfectly into his palm, liking how she moved closer to his side as they walked down the alley. They cut across an empty lot and were soon out of town. Half a mile later he helped her up a steep hill to a rugged crop of rocks. “One of my favorite places to play when I was a kid.”
She looked about, then flashed a smile that warmed him deep inside. “What did you play?”
“Depends if I was alone or with a friend.” He’d almost forgotten those happy times, allowed them to be swallowed up by the other stuff—the cruel remarks, the whispers not meant to be secret and his growing resentment.
“What did you play alone?”
“I would make little hideouts in the rocks and pretend to be a real Indian.” He led her to a hollowed-out spot. “See, here’s one of the places. Sometimes Ma even let me spend the night. That was great. I’d lie on my back staring at the stars and thinking.”
She leaned against a nearby rock and watched him poke through the dirt. “What did you think about?”
“Mostly about what it would have been like to be the first man to see this place, how big the ocean is, what makes the stars twinkle. Does God love everyone the same—” He stopped. He hadn’t meant to say the last part, but now that he had, he wondered if Charlotte would try to answer it.
“I’ve wondered, too, and I’ve decided He loves everyone, but some people see more of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think people who have hard things to deal with know more about God’s love, don’t you?”
Kody stared at her. He wasn’t sure he agreed with her. In his case, had his difficulties turned him to God? No, they’d turned him away. But Charlotte…
“I guess I’d have to say it seems to have made you cling to God.”
She smiled so serenely it caressed his heart just watching her. Something sweet and good, something gentle and healing, slipped into his heart. “I know He loves me but no more or less than He loves you.”
He believed her. For the first time in years, Kody felt as if God cared about him. Not that it changed anything. People would still treat him the same. But rather than spoil the moment by pointing out the unchangeable realities of life, he turned the talk to other things. “My friends and I loved to play hide-and-seek or—” he slanted her a look, wanting to see her reaction “—cowboys and Indians. Guess who had to fight not to be the Indian?”
She blinked as if having trouble following his change of subject, then slowly her eyes widened and she laughed. “I can’t imagine who got picked to be the Indian. I suppose the most unruly friend.”
He laughed. “I was always a good kid, but it didn’t make any difference. I still had to be the Indian. Most times I didn’t mind. I liked sneaking up on them and scaring them. I even tried to scalp Tommy Tompson once.”
She looked suitably shocked. “You didn’t.”
“With a pretend knife.”
She laughed. “It sounds like you had a lot of fun as a kid.”
Telling Charlotte about those happy times filled him with sweet pleasure. “I did. Didn’t you?”
“My father died when I was a baby and Harry left home to work when I was only eight, so Mother and I were
alone. As long as I can remember, Mother was sick. I had little time for play. I learned early to help out as much as I could.”
“Maybe it’s time you had a little fun.”
She looked vaguely uninterested.
“You are familiar with the idea, aren’t you?”
“Of course.”
Suddenly he dashed behind some rocks to a place he remembered hiding. The place didn’t quite accommodate his size anymore, but he tucked himself deep into the crevice and waited. He didn’t have to wait long.
“Kody, where are you?”
“Find me,” he growled deep in his throat.
“Kody. Stop it.”
“It’s called play,” he called, and then hunkered down further as he heard her start around the rocks.
“Where are you?” she called, drawing closer.
He hoped she couldn’t see him.
She called again, closer, called yet again, this time just inches away. Unless she turned she could pass by and not see him. She paused. “Kody. This isn’t funny.”
He hadn’t enjoyed anything this much in a long time. Maybe he was the one who’d forgotten how to play. He counted—one, two, three—and as she took another step, leaped out with a yell rivaling any uttered by an Indian, imagined or real.
She screamed and took off like a shot.
“Yiiiie, yiiie, yiii!” He raced after her.
She glanced back, saw him and turned around. “That’s not funny. You scared me out of ten years.”
He bent over his knees, laughing. “It was priceless.”
“Why you…” She began a measured stalk toward him.
Still chuckling, he straightened, tensed and when she almost reached him, jumped away.
She broke into a run, trying to catch him.
He darted back and forth, taunting her, tempting her to catch him before he ducked away.
She stopped, plucked a blade of grass, examined it as she edged toward him, pretending the grass held her attention, trying to make him think she didn’t want to catch him, but he wasn’t fooled and leaped away as she lunged for him. His foot caught on a rock and with a yell, he fell on his back.
