by Zina Abbott
Otto dropped his arm to his side. He felt the sun’s warmth as much as he saw light glowing through his eyelids seconds before the sounds of stomping horses’ hooves and the clatter of tack registered. They warned him he had slept later than was his habit and the sun had risen above the horizon. Others were already up and getting the Palmer wagon and horses ready for them to continue their journey. With a stab of guilt over still sleeping while others worked, Otto jerked his body to a sitting position only to almost fall back with a startled grunt. Leaning over him loomed the startling gray eyes in the face of Charlie Gray Cloud. “Charlie. I wasn’t expecting you.”
Crouched on his haunches with his forearms resting on his knees, Charlie answered by giving what he called his white man’s smile. Although most of his facial features, dress and the manner in which he wore the sides of his head bare of any hair advertised the Kaw half of his ancestry, in addition to his eye color, he had inherited his jaw and teeth from his white father. It allowed him to show a toothy smile that looked out of place in his otherwise Kaw face. He often used it as a means to throw people off-balance.
Gracefully, Charlie rose to stand upright, and he extended his hand to Otto to help him up. “You look well, cousin of my brother’s wife.”
Otto rubbed his bristly chin and then finger-combed his long hair. “I doubt that. Are Leander and Kizzie with you?”
“No. They went on to see Kizzie’s parents. She did not know her grandparents were here, or they might have come with me.”
“You’re getting a late start, aren’t you? Are you hauling freight on Smoky Hill Trail this time?”
Charlie grimaced and shook his head. “We’re to take some supplies from Fort Riley down to Fort Union, but we were delayed while we waited for a train to arrive with part of it.”
“So, did you see Pa and Uncle Sidney at the fort yesterday morning? They were there selling cattle.”
“No. My father now uses the railroad to ship to Denver. We left the day before, but we cut down to Council Grove to join the trail. After we got the men past the cities where they could buy more liquor, we left Lyman in charge while Leander and I went to see his wife’s family.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t visit with your family since you were that close to Council Grove.”
Charlie shrugged one shoulder. “I lived with them all winter. My wife likes me better after we have been apart for a time. I went with Leander to see he did not spend too much time enjoying his wife’s family.”
Otto turned to the activity in front of the barn. “And, yet, half of her family is here.”
“As is my sister. They should be home by tonight, though, so Kizzie will be able to visit with her father.”
Otto studied Charlie’s face, which once again wore his white man’s grin. “Then you met Miss Jones?”
“No. I choose to not enter a white man’s house when the owner is sleeping outside under a tree. I spoke with Henry.”
Otto rolled his eyes as inside he cringed at the thought of what Henry might have told the man. “Then you know she’s working for the Palmers.”
Charlie nodded. “And she chose to not marry you. Henry finds that distressing. He worries about the chickens.”
Otto brushed off Charlie’s tease. “Henry worries he might be asked to take care of the chickens if Pa sends him here to help me again. I guess I can’t blame her.”
Charlie grew serious and stared into Otto’s face. “I do not feel sorry for a man who was honorably wounded in battle. The Cheyenne and Arapaho are fierce warriors. You must do what every other man must do.” Charlie grinned again. “If you know who her father is, you must take him horses or cattle—prove you can provide for her.”
“I have no idea who her father is. All I know is she’s from Kentucky and her tribal ancestor was Cherokee. Besides, Charlie, she has been raised as a white woman, and that’s not how white people court.” Otto tried to ignore Charlie, who stood with his arms folded and studied him.
“Then, if you want her, you must court her as a white man courts a white woman.”
Otto sighed, wishing to end this conversation. “Come to the house, Charlie. I can smell what Mrs. Palmer is cooking from here.”
Charlie once again smiled. “Perhaps she is finished cooking and now cleans up. You have slept half the morning. But, I will go with you, and we will see.”
~o0o~
Libby prepared to put another plate of flapjacks on the table when she heard the sound of men’s footsteps entering from outside. Plate still in hand, she turned, and then she froze in place. Otto stood in front, his unshaven chin and part of his hair damp where he had washed up outdoors. Although not groomed as he had been the day before, she still found him handsome. However, it was the man behind him who caught her attention.
She knew who he was. She had seen him when she looked out the window to see if Otto had awakened for the day. And Henry, bless him, between bites of pancakes made with two eggs she had found among the hens that morning, had told her who he was. He also explained how it was the usual time of year for Charlie, who served as scout, and his brothers to take their father’s freight wagons down the Santa Fe Trail to Fort Union.
She forced her focus back to Otto, who made introductions. “Miss Jones, this is my friend, Charlie Gray Cloud. Charlie, this is Miss Libby Jones who will be staying with the Palmers for a time.”
Libby offered Charlie a blank look when he said something in a language she did not understand. “I’m sorry, I don’t speak Kaw.”
Libby blinked when Charlie smiled wide, showing both rows of teeth. Although he wore his Kaw-ness with pride, she could see the Caucasian ancestry in him.
Charlie propped his rifle next to the doorjamb and turned to face Libby. “It is good to meet you, my sister who is not my sister.”
Libby jerked her shoulders back, but it occurred to her what prompted his statement. She smiled. “I suspect you have been talking to Henry.”
“I have. You go to live with my brother’s family.”
Suddenly, the walls felt like they were closing in on Libby. It must be because of the heat from the stove and the number of people in the kitchen. She sighed when Mary’s words rescued her from her inertia.
“Otto, Mr. Gray Cloud, please sit down and enjoy some breakfast Libby and I have put together.”
“It is Charlie or Gray Cloud, Mrs. Palmer. No mister.”
Libby quickly set the plate of cakes on the table and stepped back to the stove to dish up the last of the fried ham. “Mr. Atwell, I looked for some maple syrup but didn’t find any. Mrs. Palmer said to grate off some sugar from the cone we found. I hope that is all right.”
As the two men placed several flapjacks on their plates, Otto smiled. “That’s fine, Miss Jones. I don’t usually get fancy with a bunch of sweeteners. Sometimes, I’ll get honey if the store has a good price on it, but I usually make do with the sugar cone.”
After getting his food, Charlie stepped to the wall next to his rifle and sat on his haunches. He rolled his pancake and took a bite.
Mary turned to him. “Charlie, you are welcome to sit at the table.”
Charlie once again offered his wide grin. “Mrs. Palmer, you know I will enter the home of a white person, but I do not care to sit on white man chairs. I prefer to eat like this.”
Libby suspected what remained unsaid was he preferred to stay close to his weapon and the exit in case there was trouble.
“These are good, even without the maple to sweeten them.”
“Thank you, Charlie. Libby made them. She says she often cooks with maple syrup. I told her we’d buy some the next time we go shopping in Salina. She promised to show me how she makes her maple cake frosting.”
“My father keeps maple syrup in his trading post. Those who bring it for trade come by the river.”
Otto turned in his chair to face Charlie. “I didn’t know they made maple syrup along the Missouri.”
“It is not made along the Missouri River.�
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Libby spun to face Charlie, who spoke the last sentence with authority. Involuntarily, her body tensed once she realized the man studied the effect of his words on her. She forced herself to breathe in hopes she would appear relaxed and unconcerned. She turned to the stove and reached for the pot of hot water to pour into the dry sink so she could wash dishes.
She had seen no danger in speaking the day before to Mary of maple syrup. At that moment, she doubted it had been wise. Charlie did not act or speak as though he posed a threat to her. Yet, she feared he saw right through her and could reveal her secrets.
~o0o~
As soon as the kitchen was cleaned, those traveling to Salina made final preparations. Otto found himself bidding farewell to his family. Otto’s expression of appreciation to Henry for all he had done had been sincere. Even though his brother had his way of making the most outlandish statements seeming to come out of nowhere, Otto knew he would miss him. As he stood next to Charlie and watched the dust from the wagon and the horses leave his place, he waved back as most of them took the occasion to turn around one last time to say goodbye with their hands or a wave of their hats.
Even Mary Palmer, seated on the bench while Libby drove and Edward sat in back, waved to him one last time. Only Libby kept her gaze forward, focusing on the unfamiliar road.
Charlie stepped to face Otto, who still watched the departing caravan. “I, too, must leave. I will scout the trail for them to be sure no one who might wish them harm is near.”
“Thank you, Charlie. I appreciate that.”
“She hides something.”
Otto turned, fully focused on Charlie’s face. “I suspected so, but I’m not sure what.”
“Henry said her native people are Cherokee. Because my father’s wagons have sometimes gone into Indian Territory, I have learned a little Cherokee. I spoke a simple Cherokee greeting to her. She thought I spoke in my native language.”
Otto bit his lip as he considered this. “I’m not sure she knows Cherokee. I do believe when we were still in Junction City and she talked to the man she was to marry, she told him she never knew her native grandmother. Maybe she never learned Cherokee.”
“She uses maple syrup like white people here use honey or molasses. Perhaps they have maple trees in Kentucky. I only know my father gets his maple syrup from the Chippewa who bring it south on the Mississippi River. Other traders from St. Louis sell it to him.”
Otto considered his conversation with Libby the night before. “She said she was from Kentucky but was vague as to exactly where. Her brother fought in the war, but she didn’t know his company or regiment. Usually recruitment is done by counties, and families know what company their men join.”
“If danger follows her, it comes from the North. I will warn my brother to tell his wife’s family to watch for trouble.”
.
.
.
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CHAPTER 16
SALINA, KANSAS – JULY 1868
~o0o~
It had been difficult, but Otto found a neighbor with no plans to attend a distant family gathering or the Independence Day celebration in Abilene. The man agreed to check on his animals and feed them for two nights in exchange for whatever eggs the hens produced and the promise Otto would return the favor sometime. That left Otto free to drive the wagon to his father’s farm and spend the night so he could attend the big family celebration held at the Palmers’.
Otto looked forward to the day more than he had anticipated anything for quite some time. The snow had been too heavy over the previous Christmas for him to return home, so the relatively mild Thanksgiving had been the last time he had made the trip. He felt excited at the prospect of seeing his family, even though he knew it meant listening to his oldest sister, Hannah, talk incessantly about her fiancé. He had not realized how lonely he would feel once Henry returned home and he again had his farm to himself.
And then there was that other reason he felt anxious to attend the extended Atwell-Palmer family celebration. She would be there. His father, passing through Abilene the previous month, had shared the news from home, enough for him to know Libby had settled in and become a part of the Palmer family. By seeing to the daily outside chores, she had taken a considerable burden off Edward Palmer, especially when his knee bothered him as storms moved in and out of the area. She helped Mary around the house, occasionally cooked, and became one of Mary’s constant quilting companions.
Although Otto told himself he was happy for Libby and that her decision to go with the Palmers had worked out well for her, the thought caused another part of him to feel cold and sterile. She hadn’t wanted him. She claimed she did him a favor by choosing to not marry him, but he suspected she had decided from the start he could not make her happy. Perhaps she felt repulsed by his limp. Perhaps she felt, since it took him longer to finish his work around his farm, he would eventually fail and lose title to the property.
Otto found he constantly thought of Libby. He hoped, if nothing else, this time spent with family celebrating the birth of the nation would settle the matter of Libby Jones for him. If she was not the right woman—if she would not be happy with him, and he was better off without her—he hoped that understanding would settle within him so he could put her out of his mind. And out of his heart.
To reach his parents’ farm, had to travel down the lane that led through his Uncle Sidney’s yard and then through the front of the Palmers’ place. He waved to his cousin, Jesse, out in the corral next to the river who was working a young colt. His heart seized with anticipation as he approached Palmers’ home. Would he see her, or would he have to wait until the next day, the day of the celebration?
Otto felt his heart clog his throat at the sight of her. She stood next to Mary’s clothesline, a basket half-filled with white sheets near her feet. Her hair in a single thick braid rested against her back with loose tendrils trailing along her cheeks. The light blue gown she wore was not one he had seen on her. How he wished he would come upon her performing such a basic domestic chore at his home, caring for him and a family they would build together. But the memory that she had refused him suffused him with a chill, knocking him back to reality.
Libby turned at the sound of his approaching wagon. She had not been inclined to smile when he had seen her before. However, this day she graced him with a shy smile and a nod of her head as she waved at him.
As much as Otto wished to stop and talk to her, to ask her how she fared working for the Palmers, he feared his attentions would not be appreciated. He knew his mother, if no one else in his family, anxiously awaited his visit. He owed it to her to go to his childhood home first.
It surprised Otto that Henry was the first to greet him. He also was in the corral, only instead of working the horses, the pile of horse manure in a wheelbarrow next to the gate testified that he had been cleaning it. However, as soon as Henry saw Otto, he dropped the shovel and started towards the gate, a smile on his face.
“Henry! The shovel.”
Realizing what he had done, Henry quickly retraced his steps to pick up the shovel which he then pushed into the pile in the wheelbarrow. Rather than open the gate, he climbed over and jumped to the ground. “Hey, Otto!”
Otto set the brake on the wagon and gingerly eased himself to the ground. Gritting back his body’s complaint in his lower back and leg, he engaged in some mutual back-thumping with the brother he realized he was genuinely happy to see. “Good to see you, Henry. Hard at work with the animals, I see. Where’s Pa and Carl?”
Henry wrinkled his nose. “Out in the field checking to see how much their corn has grown. I figured I’d rather clean the corral and wait for you. Ma and Hannah are inside. Well, they were.”
At the slam of the back door, Otto turned to see his mother, who hurried towards him with outstretched arms. “Otto! Too long you have been away. Come in, come in. You must rest.”
“I’ll take care of your mules, Otto.”
Otto,
nodding his thanks to Henry, followed his mother into the house. His sister greeted him at the door. Although Hannah was his sibling, he recognized she was a beautiful young woman, in spite of being too dreamy-eyed about men and marriage while she seemed to ignore the reality that taking care of a home and a family was hard work. No wonder the lieutenant at Fort Riley had sought her hand. Otto only hoped the man rose in rank and earned enough pay to provide Hannah a maid once she became his wife.
Otto knew he was not expected to go into the fields looking for his father and Carl. In fact, his mother would insist against it. He knew as well as she did he needed to stretch out and rest after the wagon ride from his ranch, or not only would he not be fit to enjoy the celebration the following day, but he would be in pain the entire way home.
“On the sofa, Otto. Take your boots off and stretch out.”
Otto did as he was ordered. He sighed with relief as he stretched out on the soft cushions, and he felt the muscles in his back relax. Soon, all that remained was the inflammation at the top of his right hip and the occasional stabbing pain.
Otto had dozed off but came fully awake as he heard the voices carrying on a conversation in his mother’s kitchen. He heard one he realized did not belong to a family member.
Libby.
Otto forced himself to a sitting position, leaning forward to stretch his bad leg so when he sat up straight, perhaps the pain would let up. Under no circumstances did he intend for Libby to find him laid out flat.
Carlotte Atwell entered the living area first. “Otto, look who has come calling? Mary sent Libby to bring you some willow bark tea and her joint salve.”
Otto rose to his feet as Libby entered the room. All he could do was stare at her. Up close, she looked even more beautiful to him than when he had seen her pulling sheets from the Palmers’ clothesline. He beheld her beautiful, almost black eyes with his, as she stood and stared back at him.
