by Debra Samms
"As promised, here it is." William walked into the kitchen with what looked to Molly like a broken rifle hanging over his forearm.
"But – what's wrong with it?" she asked. "It looks like it broke in half!"
He laughed, though he sounded a little confused. "Molly, haven't you ever seen a shotgun before?"
"Well – I don't know. I suppose I have. But I've only ever shot a rifle, and the ones I saw did not look like that."
"No, of course not. This is a double-barrel shotgun. See – when it's open, like this, it can be loaded with shells."
"Shells? You mean bullets?"
"No. Not bullets. Shells. I've got some in my pocket. If you look at it, here, you can see that it's unloaded right now. After loading, you put it back together like this – " William snapped the gun back into its normal configuration – "and then you can fire two shots. There are two triggers. You pull first one and then the other. Couldn't be simpler."
"Will you take me out so I can shoot it?"
"I will when I have a moment. Things are happening fast here, today."
Instantly her concern began to rise. "What's happening?"
"General Howard is coming. There's going to be a meeting between him and the Indian leaders."
Molly caught her breath. "A meeting? Where?"
"Right here. At the fort."
"Here? But – "
"I don't want you to worry about it. Just take care of things as you normally do. Are Mrs. Fisher and Mrs. Ross coming today?"
She nodded.
"Good. Now, here's what I will do with the shotgun: I will load it and I will leave it underneath our bed. Inform the other two women that it's there so that they know it's loaded and not to be touched. Do you understand?"
"Yes. I understand."
"Then I will go put this away. I'll see you later this evening. And remember: Do not go far from the house. Things are very uncertain right now."
He ran upstairs to put away the shotgun, and when he came back down he gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. "Until tonight, Molly." And then he was gone.
"Until tonight, William," she whispered.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
A short time later, as Molly began assembling the flour and sugar and lard and eggs for that day's baking, she heard footsteps at the back door. "In here, Lydia, Abby," she called. "I've got my hands full at the moment, so come on in."
The back door opened into the kitchen. Molly set down the crock of lard on the work table and wiped her hands on a rag – but when she turned around, Abigail hurried right through the kitchen and out into the front of the house with Lydia right behind her and calling her name. "Abigail. Abigail!"
Puzzled, Molly hurried after them. Across the hallway, in the small parlor room, Abigail sat on the sofa with her head in her hands. Lydia stood in front of her, patting her on the shoulder and trying to comfort her.
"Abby! What's wrong?" cried Molly, hurrying over to them. "Is it – has something happened to John?"
"No," Lydia said. "It's something John said to her."
Molly stopped. "What do you mean?" she demanded. "I thought Private Fisher was a good man! What did he say?"
Abigail raised her head and wiped her eyes, trying to control her sobs. "No – no," she gasped, taking a deep breath. "You don't understand. He is a good man. It was something he told me – something he wanted all three of us to know."
At that, Molly frowned. She glanced at Lydia and the two of them sat down, Lydia on the sofa beside Abigail and Molly on a chair by the window.
"All right, then," Molly said. "Tell me: What did your husband say to you that has upset you so much?"
Abigail took a ragged cotton handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her eyes. "The Indians are getting more and more aggressive each day," she said. "They don't want to go to their reservation. They're fighting back."
"Yes. We know that." Molly leaned forward, feeling impatient. "Both my husband and Lydia's were hurt in an attack just the day before yesterday."
Abigail nodded. "Yes. They were. There was an attack. But that is nothing compared to what the men believe the Indians are planning."
She paused. "What are they planning, Abby?"
"They want to attack us here. Right here! At the fort!"
Molly looked from one of them to the other. "Abby," she said, "do you really think the Indians would attack the fort itself? With a hundred and fifty soldiers here?"
Abigail just held her handkerchief to her face again, and Lydia answered this time. "There are far more Indian braves than that. They are desperate. And angry. They consider this land to be theirs. They are fully prepared to fight for it."
"They aren't going to leave," Abigail said, sniffling again but trying to speak. "They will fight. They will attack. They will come right here, to this fort!"
She began to weep again, leaving Molly just as baffled as before. "But Abby – we've known this for a while," said Molly, trying to keep her voice strong. "And the soldiers certainly know. William told me this morning that a man named General Howard is coming here. There are going to be talks between the United States and the Nez Perce."
"Yes," said Lydia. "Talks that are backed up by all of the armed men of this fort."
"There – you see, Abby? We'll be very safe here. And the dilemma of what to do about the Indian tribe is being dealt with by the highest levels. There's nothing at all for us to worry about, except those biscuits we should be baking."
But Abigail only buried her face in her hands and leaned forward, weeping and weeping yet again.
" Abby, I don't understand!" Molly said, beginning to lose her patience. "We are safe here. We have our husbands and the other men to protect us. Lydia and I are frightened, too, but we are not hysterical. Now, you must tell me: What is it that keeps you so afraid?"
Lydia patted Abigail on the shoulder, but it was clear that the blonde girl was not going to answer. Lydia turned to face Molly instead.
"It was something that her husband told her last night," Lydia said. "It seems John told her the same thing that Captain Strong told you: About the Indians becoming more aggressive. About the meeting to be held here tomorrow, with General Howard."
"And about the possibility of an attack," said Molly. "Yes. We know that. What – "
Lydia stood up. "John Fisher told her that – in the event of an attack, if an officer sees a woman captured by an Indian he is to shoot her dead so as to prevent her suffering at their hands."
All three of them were silent. Molly just stared at Lydia, trying to take in what she had said. "Abigail's husband – Private John Fisher – said that to her?"
"My husband said the same thing to me," answered Lydia.
Molly shook her head slightly. "William has never said anything of the kind. I cannot imagine it is true. But I am going to ask him the moment I next see him!"
"Oh, no – oh, no, please don't do that!" cried Abigail, sitting up straight. "If his commanding officer knows, John could get into a great deal of trouble for saying that to me."
"Whether it's true or not," said Lydia.
"All right," said Molly. "All right. I won't ask. I won't say anything to William at all. Besides – I'm sure such a thing isn't true. It couldn't possibly be true."
They all sat in silence. Finally Molly stood up. "We have beaten biscuits to make," she said briskly. "And cornbread. It will not make itself. Come with me."
***
The day passed slowly for Molly and her friends, in tense silences and light remarks and as much busy work as they could manage. At one point she took Lydia and Abigail upstairs and showed them the loaded shotgun that had been placed under the bed, though none of them touched it.
"Have you ever fired one of these, Molly?" asked Lydia.
"No. Only some sort of small rifle, not a shotgun. William is going to teach me, just as soon as he has time. But I don't yet know when that might be."
Lydia nodded. "I've never fired a gun before, either. And I
know Abby has not."
Abigail shook her head. "That's true. We lived in the city."
"But I'd like to learn," Lydia continued. "If I'm going to be a Territory wife – an army wife – it seems like I should."
Molly smiled. "Maybe William can arrange for all three of us to learn together." Then they all went back downstairs together and returned to their work.
Molly kept frequent watch on the front window, and saw that the fort seemed even busier than usual. It looked as though everything was being cleaned and swept and repaired.
"Something is sure happening out there," she said, walking back into the kitchen. "I've never seen the men work so hard to make the grounds and buildings look good. They're even grooming the extra horses – the ones that aren't being used."
"Then they really are going to have that meeting. With the general and with the Indians," said Lydia, stirring another batch of biscuits. "Probably tomorrow."
Abigail looked up from flour she was sifting into a bowl. She froze, and her face was pale. "Tomorrow?" she whispered. "The Indians are coming tomorrow?"
Lydia walked over to her. "More soldiers are coming tomorrow. With a general. They're going to take care of everything."
"That's right, Abby. It's good that they're coming. They're going to – "
The front door opened and William walked inside. Molly quickly dried her hands on her apron and hurried over to him.
"Hello," she said, as he gave her a small kiss on the cheek. "You're back a little early. Everything going well today? Dinner is not ready yet, but would you like coffee or a fresh biscuit?"
"Yes, now that you say so. Coffee. Thank you." William walked with her into the kitchen. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Fisher. Mrs. Ross."
"Good afternoon, Captain Strong," they said together, as he sat down in the chair in the corner.
"I had just a moment," William said. "I have to go back out, but I wanted to tell Molly what will happen tomorrow."
Molly set down a cup of hot coffee on the table in front of him, and then all three women stood very still and listened closely to his every word.
"What you have no doubt already heard is true," he said, taking a sip of the coffee. "The Nez Perce Indian tribes have become belligerent. We believe they may be planning an attack, either on the town of Spalding or on more of the settlers. Or even on the fort itself."
Abigail caught her breath. Molly was afraid the poor girl would begin sobbing again, though her own heart was beating very fast. But Lydia stood close to Abigail and held her arm, and the two of them managed to listen with outward calm.
"And the other rumors you have heard are true, as well. Tomorrow we expect the arrival of General Oliver Howard. He is to meet with Chief Joseph and other leaders of Nez Perce bands – the ones who refuse to go to their reservation – and persuade them that it's in their best interest to go."
"I see." Molly took a step towards him. "But – what will happen if the Indians still refuse?"
She knew that Abigail and Lydia were hanging on her every word, barely breathing as they waited for William to answer.
His eyes flicked across their faces, and his expression hardened. "If they refuse, they will be shown why they should have gone. This is a United States Army outpost and we are charged with keeping the peace out here. And I assure all three of you: That is what we will do."
Molly nodded and quickly turned away, concentrating on the work of serving up beefsteaks and gravy and potatoes. But her hands shook as she did so, and William's cold words and firm resolve did nothing to keep away her fear of what was to come.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The next morning, Abigail and Lydia arrived at Molly's home even while the sky was still dark. Molly knew that they were both very worried about the meeting between the Indians and the U.S. Army to be held that day – especially Abby – and did not want to be alone for even a moment.
Molly kept it to herself that she felt the same way.
Once William left, they got to work. Today it was washing and sewing, after baking the day before. They quickly had the clean clothes hanging outside on lines to dry, and were soon sitting around the dining room table with cups of coffee and plates of sugar cookies to work on their quilting.
They could see outside through the front window, and even as they talked and gossiped to distract themselves, all three kept a close watch on any activity outside. Abigail gasped once and started to get up, and Molly looked out to see three Indians walking on foot across the parade ground. Then it became evident that they were closely guarded by a group of ten soldiers, also on foot.
"It's all right," Molly said. "We knew the Indians were coming for this meeting today with the general. Look – they're well guarded. Nothing can happen."
Abigail slowly sat back down, and went back to her quilt. "I hope so," she murmured, and though her voice still trembled.
The day stretched on. Eventually, the shadows lengthened enough that Molly lit the lanterns and the three of them prepared a little food. "The men are having their supper brought in over there at the meeting site," said Molly as they sat down to eat, and then tried to laugh. "At least that means a little less work for us this evening."
"I suppose it does," said Lydia. "But Abigail and I will have to be going soon. John and Nathan will be back soon."
"Yes. They will."
The three women finished eating in silence, even as darkness fell outside. Once they were ready to go, Molly walked out to the front porch with them.
The normally quiet parade grounds seemed filled with men and horses tonight, and there were far more torches than usual on all of the buildings surrounding the grounds. The main office building, where the meetings were being held, had armed guards posted all around it.
Molly looked away from it and smiled at her friends. "I will see you tomorrow, as always. John and Nathan will tell you what happened. All is quiet out here, as you can see. I'm sure that means everything's going well."
They nodded. "I'm sure it does," said Lydia. "We'll see you tomorrow morning."
"Good night," whispered Abigail. She pulled her shawl close around her and ducked her head away as the two of them set out together for the enlisted men's encampment behind the main fort.
Molly sighed, and stood for a few moments in the shadows on the porch. The sight of the men and the torches was both frightening and reassuring. They were well guarded here, as William always said; but Molly could not forget the reason for all of the heavily armed men patrolling the fort this night.
And there was no telling what watched them from the surrounding forest.
At last, when it seemed that the day would never end, Molly saw the men leaving the office building. The three Indians, this time on their spotted ponies, were escorted off of the fort by a dozen armed men, also now on horseback. And, to Molly's great relief, William returned to the house.
Though she did not run out onto the grounds, Molly could not resist going out onto the porch to meet him.
She was very glad to see William smiling as he walked up to her. "It went well," he said. "The Nez Perce have agreed to move to their reservation."
"Oh, I am so glad," she said, letting out her breath. "Then, they are gone?"
"They will be gone in three days' time," he answered, and opened the door to go inside the house.
Quickly all three women followed him. "Three days?" asked Molly. "Why three days? Why can't they go now?"
William stopped in the dining room and turned around. "They must have time to pack up and prepare. They have many women and children among them who will have to be moved. The sick and elderly must go, too, of course, and all that will take time. A detail of soldiers will go with them, to make sure they really are preparing to leave."
Molly caught her breath again. "Who will lead this detail?"
William shrugged as though it were of no consequence, and started to go into the kitchen. "Coffee, Molly?"
But she stayed where she was. "Who will lead this det
ail?"
"It does not matter. They are leaving."
"Yes, I know," said Molly. "We'll all be safe then. But I want to know – "
"I am leading it," said William, staring at her. "And I'll ask you again: Do you wish me to ask your permission, Molly, before I follow orders whenever they are given to me?"
She looked away. "Of course not. I am sorry. Here, I will get your coffee."
Molly slipped past him into the kitchen and tried to tell herself to be calm. "Just three days and then they're gone," Molly whispered, getting down a cup for her husband. "Just a little while longer."
***
Later that night, Molly slept at last, secure and comfortable beneath the goosedown comforter beside the warmth of her husband. But then sounds began to intrude on her from the outside . . . shouts, yelling, whooping, high-pitched cries . . . and pounding hoofbeats.
And then a gunshot.
"Molly! Molly!"
She sat up as a huge shot of fear rushed through her, and saw William already out of bed and throwing on his uniform.
"Get up! I have to go. Stay in this room and do not leave it for anything!" He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled on his boots. "Do you understand me? Don't leave it for anything! You know where your gun is. Stay here and wait for me!"
Then he was gone, flying down the steps and racing outside.
With her heart pounding and her hands shaking, she got herself dressed. Just as she was checking under the bed to be certain the shotgun was still there, she heard a frantic pounding at the back door of the kitchen.
She ran down the stairs and managed to keep silent, even though she wanted to cry out. It had to be Lydia and Abigail beating on the locked door – but what if it was not?
Molly peered out of the small kitchen window and saw both women huddled against the door. She slid the bolt, yanked the door open, and pulled them both inside.
"It's the Indians! They've come!" cried Abigail, weeping with fear. "Oh, what do we do? The men are all leaving!"
"They're not leaving," said Lydia, shoving her friend into the kitchen. "They're getting their horses so they can fight back!"
