By forestport12
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Chapter One: Between Two Worlds.
Colorado Springs 1866
Lucas Cole leveled his rifle at the rattling bush. His proud brown mare held her ground by the river’s edge, but the homesteader’s heart pecked hard as a trapped bird in his chest. His neck stiffened. His arm tightened into a cramp. Sweat dripped from his brow and stung the eye where he drew a bead on the target.
Luke’s mind jumped back east where he could wait for the glint of antlers. Indians and outlaws roamed the foothills. The right split decision could save your life. He considered himself more blessed than lucky so far. He took a deep breath and massaged the trigger. Then his eye unfolded on an Indian girl falling forward. He breathed a sigh.
No telling how old she was, when you figured in the living and landscape she crawled out from. She could have been thirteen going on thirty. She found her feet and stood, ink black hair in her eyes. She must have never seen the rifle trained on her where the tufts of grass swirled along the bank.
Luke lowered his rifle. She looked as if tortured by more than nature. Her deerskin clothing ripped and tattered, was almost unrecognizable as a dress. He kept an eye on the ridge behind her just in case it was a ploy to get him to drop his guard. Even if she had been banished, it would be the kind of trouble he couldn’t risk living between two worlds. With the town of silver creek in the valley below and scattered tribes in the mountains beyond, he’d managed an uneasy peace so far. He had a thought to pretend she was never there, turn back toward his cabin and scrub her from his mind.
When Luke turned, his mare pitched upward and neighed. She disagreed with his desire to bolt. He took one last look from high on his horse with white capped peaks in front of him. There was no doubt she heard and saw him now. But she stumbled forward, as if pretending not to notice him.
Luke turned his reins toward the girl and clicked his boots into the side of his horse. As he drew closer, his stomach churned. Her face baked from the sun made her skin dark as cinnamon. But it was her pleading eyes, like sapphires. It made him weak. Made his mind go off trail for a moment. How did an Indian get such blue eyes? They were a glassy blue born in the belly of a fire that made him wonder about her heritage. Half-breed. Maybe.
Luke turned his horse toward the clearing in the creek and muddied the waters with her hoofs. One hand on the reins one hand on his repeating rifle, he didn’t see signs of anyone following the Indian girl through the valley. He looked back at her. She stumbled down his worn trail bordered by knotted trees toward the cabin.
Luke rode toward her, stopped several yards away. He noted her buckskin dress ripped with cuts on her legs, spots of blood mixed with mud. It was hard to tell if she’d been punished by her tribe or by the wilds of nature. Her spirited blue eyes locked on his.
Luke tried hand gestures at first. “You a runaway?”
She looked away, miles. She turned and stumbled on the path to his cabin, willing to walk until her legs caved. When Luke drew along beside her, she smelled like a wet dog. He stopped her beneath the shade of a Ponderosa pine. He reached into his saddlebag and pulled out an apple, handing it to her. It broke her forward stare, gave her pause, as she took it with both hands and took a bite.
Luke knew if the town below caught wind of her, it would make his simple life twisted. The folks thought of him as some kind of Paul Revere who would warn them of Indians and outlaws.
He strode alongside her. “Looks to be your going my way.” He leaned in toward her from his saddle. He reached out his hand. “Let me give you a ride.”
She relented and let Luke lift her. She was light as a feathered pillow. She placed her hands around his stomach and leaned into the spine of his back. This shocked Luke’s senses, the softness of her face against him in contrast to sawgrass and thorns. It gave him a rush, reminding him he was a red-blooded man again. He hadn’t felt the touch of a woman in two years. He tried to snuff it from his mind and stay alert, as his horse strode toward the cabin.
She’d known English as a language. If only he could pull some out of her. He didn’t like sitting out in the open. He’d find out more about her when he got her to his cabin. It was too late for regrets, as she firmly pounced on his heart, with every joust she dug into his back, clamped down on his emotions. He wondered if she could feel his heartbeat hammering from between his shoulder blades.
Sounds of the rushing creek swept along beside them in a valley full of hemlocks and elms. In the clearing was the cabin, every log placed by himself with the help of his horse and a winch. There were jagged cuts the color of pulp with holes filled by dried mud. It was a poor excuse for a homestead and looked more like a trapper's cabin. Buckskins dried on a post in the sun, an outhouse several feet away, and root cellar in the ground. “No place like home,” he said under his breath.
Luke wondered what she thought of his abode. For all he knew, she’d probably slept under the stars her whole life. It needed a feminine touch. A remnant of smoke spilled from a clay chimney pipe. He had windows in his loft too, a view between worlds. “Don’t have all the creature comforts, but it’s a step up from a tent.”
Luke’s mind drummed in his head. He could make her a pallet in the root cellar for now, where the earth was cool, pleasant enough providing a snake didn’t bore a hole inside. He mostly didn’t care to sleep with one eye open in his own abode.
Luke hopped off his mare and tethered her to the post by the door. His dog barked on the other side. When he opened the door a white and brown-haired spaniel jumped and did circles around the Indian girl. “That’s Sugar, she’s our welcoming committee. Looks like between Lucy my horse and Sugar, I got myself a slew of females.”
He looked at her, studied her gestures, and for now tried not to think of all the things that could go wrong as he offered for her to step inside his log cabin home. It was cautious hospitality. She took the core of her apple and fed it to Luke’s horse. She crouched down and petted the spaniel who licked her dirty sweat. She looked up at Luke as if she fought in her mind whether to stay or leave.
“Come inside for a spell. I won’t hurt you.” He tried to use hand signs to put her at ease. Dust mites circled in the sun from a kitchen window, as the pair stepped inside. A damp mustiness clung to Luke’s nose. He left the door open.
With arms folded, she inched forward and looked around.
Cole dove into her glassy blue eyes determined to get answers. “What’s your name? Cat got your tongue?”
She folded her arms and sat down on the mat by the door and looked down, either too stubborn to speak a language, or just maybe her tongue had been cut. Not something foreign to some tribes, as punishment to a squaw who talked out of place. He leaned in to check just to be sure. “Open your mouth.” He ordered.
The girl must have figured he wanted to examine her teeth. As he poked his finger inside and she promptly bit down. Luke tumbled backward when she let go, wincing in pain. She had a tongue and a strong pair of teeth too. He wanted to smack her, but then thought better of it. He’d never hit a girl before, no sense starting now.
Between shakes of his finger, he asked her, “What in the Sam Hill did you do that fer?” Still, he didn’t get a reply. She acted deaf and dumb, but he knew better. “You got a name? I know you aren’t deaf.”
“Aiyana.”
Luke shook his head and his finger. “What does it mean? What tribe?” Luke was ready to bore down. “I need to know what I might be dealing with.”
She crossed her arms and clamped her mouth down like a steel trap.
“Okay, suit yourself. But I don’t need trouble. I got a mind to send you on your way with a sack. You know what that word means, don’t you?” Luke had a hand mirror on his kitchen table across the room. He fetched it, walked over to her and put the mirror to her defiant face. “That’s what trouble looks like.”
Aiyana frowned. She didn’t seem to appreciate her wild look. It scared her some. She crawled back into a corner where a shadow hung all day.
Cole sucked on his finger. “You think you can win my animals over like that, and then treat me like I’m the rude one?” He shook his throbbing finger and walked over toward the mantel where there was a picture of a young woman on it between red candles and a silver urn. He looked over the photo in a bronze frame against the backdrop of white jagged rocks beside a waterfall. He turned to see her watching him with her penetrating eyes.
Cole gazed at the woman in the picture, blonde straw hair was how the one letter described her, brown eyes like dark caramel. The black and white photo couldn’t match the colorful description of her. She'd even sent a locket of her hair. He pinched it between his fingers. She looked beautiful with her ribbed, ribbon hat. Her smile was slight, light as the breeze he imagined from where it was taken in South Bend, Indiana. He breathed a sigh and put the picture back on the mantel with the locket of hair.
Luke wondered what the lovely Ruth Thompson, his bride to be, would think of his new guest. He turned again to see Push-ta falling asleep, but he wasn’t about to poke her like a treed cat. He’d let her sink into it.
There was no point in him trying to explain to the Indian girl that he’d be expecting a mail order bride in a few weeks. And he still needed answers from her. He watched her eyes close. He slipped over toward her. Sugar looked up and wagged her tail. He put a finger to his lips.
Something glistened from her deerskin pouch, the only thing left on her that wasn’t shredded. Luke leaned in close enough to test her sleep. His jaw dropped when he glimpsed what he thought was a golden cross necklace. He took his penknife and lifted it from her. He backed away, then went to the kitchen window and held it up into the light.
The sun was melting over the mountains like spilled yoke. His head hurt from the storm in his mind. Laying his head down on the table, he clutched the cross until his eyes closed, and his world blackened.
When Luke opened his eyes, she stood in front of him and something in her Indian tongue he didn’t recognize. Aiyana pointed at the necklace in his hand.
Luke pushed his chair back, stood, and dangled the cross necklace in his hand. We need to talk about this. How you got this.”
Aiyana snatched it from his hand and held it with a fist. She backed away into the corner with Sugar wagging her tail beside her. She used her free hand to stroke Luke’s dog. Then she looked over at the mantel and seemed focused on the picture of the woman. He wasn’t about to explain to her what it meant to have a mail order bride on the way.
She plopped down cross-legged. Luke went over to a chest of clothes under the stairs and slid it open. The smell of talcum powder wafted through the air from trying to keep old clothes fresh. “I have some clothes. It’s not much but it will help keep you warm at night. He’d already softened and intended for her to sleep on a pallet in front of the fire. He showed her a pair of wool pants and a thick cotton shirt.
Luke threw the clothes her way. She ducked, as the clothes fell on the hardwood where Sugar scampered away. “Put those on.” He motioned, as if he was putting his own pants on.
Aiyana snatched the clothes and stood with her back to him where she flipped off her tattered buckskin.
Luke panicked. He turned away. He leaned over his kitchen basin and looked out the window. “Really, you should give a man a warning.” But he couldn’t unsee the scars from a whip to her back. Someone really did have a mind to punish her. She must have slipped away. Good for her. “Let me know when your done changing.” Then he recalled, she might not understand a word he said.
He had no idea if she had changed or not. So, he turned and peeked with one eye open. Push-ta tucked the shirt into her waistband. She looked as if his outfit might swallow her hole. Relief washed over him when she offered a faint smile. Then she spoke in her native tongue, it sounded like a thank you.
Luke persisted. “You came clear over the Rockies. Blackfoot or Crow?”
She pointed through the window. Said something foreign on her tongue.
“Crow.” She stuck out her elbows and made like a wounded bird. “Crow.”
She went and sat in a corner and looked as if she was deciding what to do. Luke couldn't tell if she might bolt. “I'm going to make dinner. As he set out a pan and lit the wood stove, he glimpsed at the woman on the mantel, as if he could talk to the picture of his bride to be. “Not sure how I can explain her to you. Since you don't rightly know me, except through letters. I swear, I didn't plan this.” Then Luke admitted to himself how lonely he must be for companionship when he talked to a picture.
Rattling pots and pans, Luke took out some salted venison. But before he cut some butter and cut the meat, he took a firestick across the stove and lit up some kindling where the logs were in place in the stove.
Luke turned it into a stew, where he cut open an onion, and peppers. “That's one thing about living' in the foothills, you got more of a chance for game. I often trade meat for vegetables in town.”
Luke stared into her eyes. “Am I the first white person you’ve laid eyes on?” A heavy silence fell between them. “You’ve never seen a town?” Luke already knew the answer.
Aiyana curled into the corner with Sugar next to her. As Luke pondered what to do, her head nodded, eyes closed. Sugar didn't mind sharing his floor pillow with her. He snuggled next to her, and only now and then left his nose to sniff the aroma of onion and deer venison stewing in a pot.
Luke made use of his hand made table straightway from white elm, a bleached but polished cut of logs. He was practicing again, trying turn his trapper cabin into a homestead home for someone miles away, who'd not set live eyes on him, his dog, or his cabin. If only Miss Thompson could see him now, what would she think of him with an Indian girl sleeping in a corner?
When the time came for him to wake Aiyana, Luke decided to use the other end of his straw broom. He wasn't about to wake up someone who could turn into a coiled snake. He poked her, and at first her blue eyes looked lost, like she forgot where she'd closed those eyes.
Luke didn't have the heart to tell her, she smelled. He figured after she had her belly full, she'd maybe want to leave. She didn't have to stay, and he wasn't sure why he expected it. He didn't want to care, although the sight of those lash marks made him concerned. He gave her a portion of the stew, and gave her spoon where she sat hunched over, elbows on the table.
Luke bowed his head and said a silent prayer. With one eye on her and to his surprise, she bowed her head too with eyes closed. It only deepened the mystery of her, like the depth of a glacier lake. She took and broke the piece of bread and dipped it into her bowl of stew. As she ate, some of it slipped down the corner of her blistered lips. She wiped her face with her forearm.
Luke looked at her, astonished. Aiyana ate and slurped her food, and greedily so, before Luke hardly had a bite of his. He wasn't sure if she'd be presentable in town or anywhere but the wild. And then, He thought he saw her eyes moistening, glistening with tears. He knew then he had caught a glimpse of her soul, something deep, something powerful.
By forestport12
Luke tossed and turned over on his feather bed. From his perch in the loft, the moon shed a sliver of light through the window. He thrashed around in his bed until his mind caved into the darkness. Sleep came over him like the lid on a deep well.
Hours later...
There was a creak on the steps. A shadow formed on the stairs and moved toward Luke. His fingers curled around the revolver under his pillow. His heart hammered in his chest until it hurt. Aiyana!
Luke froze. He couldn't slip the gun toward her and shoot. His insides churned. Aiyana crawled into the bed and spooned with him. She breathed into his ear. "One day, they will find me. Then they will kill you."
*********
Morning light from the loft pricked Luke's eyes. He bolted upright. His hand gripped the revolver under his pillow. His other hand slipped over the bed, but she wasn't there!
Luke stumbled over the edge of the bed in his red long johns and stood over the railing, looking down where it appeared Aiyana was sound asleep. His dog rested her snout over Aiyana's ribs near the smoldering remnants of heat from the fireplace. "It was just a dream. One whale of a dream," he told himself.
Sugar wagged her tail in Aiyana's face, waking her. Without a word, she slipped outside with Luke's robe. Unsure where she'd go, Luke scaled down the stairs in his bare feet and only took enough time to find his bar of soap and gun belt. With the belt over his shoulder, he opened the door and watched her on the worn path between the Cyprus trees and craggy pines. She appeared to be headed toward the creek.
As Luke approached, Sugar barked and broke the silence between the pair. She discarded her robe and slipped into the stream, heading for the waterfall. It made Luke about as uncomfortable as sandpaper to his skin. He sat on the flat rock with soap in one hand and then set the holstered gun down.
Aiyana disappeared behind the falls. Luke respected her privacy, as he slipped into the icy waters, long johns and all. Dipping into the water, he rubbed himself down with the bar of soap, creating a healthy lather to skin and skivvies. His toes curled around the silt and sandy bottom where he sat with one eye on the valley. He needed to tamp down the feelings he was having toward the Indian girl.
Luke's eye caught a speck in the foothills from town. Two riders appeared on the horizon coming toward him. Lifting and stumbling, he raked his toes on some sharp rocks fighting to get to his gun on the boulder. As the pair of riders drew closer, he recognized them from town.
It's been a sleepy town, with a population of one hundred and forty-seven. It would be plus one, should they consider a misplaced Indian girl in their mists. How would the town handle an Indian girl? He figured some of the same emotions would run like a riptide through most folk, like it did him. They'd probably wonder if Indians were poised for an attack. There have been a few times Indians wandered into town looking to trade for food. But would Aiyana even want to be a part of this town?
While Luke had his hand on the revolver, he recognized the pair as Mr. and Mrs. Rayburn. It was too late to hide himself. At least his reddened face should match the cold, wet underwear stuck to his skin.
The pair rode toward him, dipping their heads under the branches that marked an entrance to the creek. "Here comes the gossip posse," he said to himself under his breath.
His heart skipped. He figured Aiyana watched from behind the falls, as the couple rode up to Luke.
"I... I wasn't expecting company so early." Luke ran his fingers through his knotted hair.
Mr. Rayburn tipped his head with a laughable smile. "Seems like we caught you without your pants. The Mrs. thought you'd be running low on some garden varieties since, well..." Mr. Rayburn looked over at his sorry excuse of a garden where his corn wilted and yellowed. "Since your garden, should we say is not too promising."
Sweat formed on Luke's brow, as he looked back toward the falls where Aiyana must have submerged herself to hide. Mrs. Rayburn turned red as a radish when Luke faced her. "Thanks, Ma'am."
She Looked at her husband, who shrugged his shoulders. She looked again, then cupped a gloved hand over her mouth and pointed toward the falls, as if about to let out a scream.
The young Indian stood behind the falls, crossing her arms over her breast. She disappeared again under the swirling pool.
"Land sakes!" cried Lilian Rayburn. "Indians!" Her horse raised up and kicked its front legs, as if to flee.
Luke put up his hands. "Hold on now, easy does it."
Mr. Rayburn stretched for his rifle. Luke held on to Lilian Rayburns horse. "Easy now. She was lost. I found her wandering the other day further down where the stream meanders. It was just an Indian girl who needed help."
"She spent the night with you?" Mrs. Rayburn's mouth gaped open.
"Just hospitality Ma'am. It was the Christian thing to do. Couldn't leave her where the wolves form a circle."
Mr. Rayburn took his hand off his rifle, reared his head back and laughed. "Well now, maybe she can teach you how to farm this rocky soil of yours, or help you dig out the rocks. Those squaws can be useful in more ways than one."
Mrs. Rayburn stiffened in her saddle. "You don't intend to keep her, do you?"
Luke boiled inside over their poor choice of words, as if she could be owned.
Mr. Rayburn smiled wide, but Lilian didn't seem to mind showing her change from shock to disdain.
Luke wrapped his gun belt around him with his shirt half-buttoned. "What was I supposed to do? I figured the Christian thing was to give her a meal and a place to spend the night. It's not what you think. I'm not shacking up with her."
Mrs. Rayburn's contorted face spoke in place of her words. She dipped to the side and pulled out her modest sack of vegetables, where she had some potatoes like rocks in the bottom and some carrots sticking out. She swung the sack over to Mr. Cole.
Mr. Rayburn spoke up. "Well, I suppose we ought to get back, and let you work out your situation with the squaw."
"Names Aiyana," Luke said.
Lillian pulled away on her horse but craned her neck back. "Mr. Cole, you should have brought her into town. We would have all done the Christian thing. Surely, we would not have turned her away without a meal and place to lay her head."
"Yes, Ma'am." Cole scratched his head and itched his nose, still leaking icy water from his short splash in the stream. But now his thoughts leaked. No way that Lilly gal would keep a lid on his Indian discovery. The Lord knows those town folks have been bored, ever since the mine played out months ago. Now they found themselves trying to figure out how to get a new spur from the railroad to cut that way.
Riding out, Mrs. Rayburn ducked beneath the arm of a pine tree. Bill Rayburn turned toward Luke and leaned down so only the men could hear themselves. "Say, I wouldn't mind having an Indian girl to help around our place neither. Don't fret yourself none, Luke." Then Bill rode off to catch up to his worried wife on the path between the trees.
Fretting was all Luke could do, as he turned to spot Aiyana hiding behind the falls. "It's okay!" he yelled. "It's safe to come out now." He turned away, so not to shame her. He hoped she understood his words, as he left for the cabin.
Luke fumed over town folk coming up uninvited. He preferred not being a conversation piece.
By forestport12
Luke left Aiyana alone to put her borrowed bathrobe on. She wouldn't have to hide behind the falls for anyone. He headed for the cabin, unable to figure out if he should make her go into town and find refuge. He simmered to the point of boiling over how the Rayburns labeled Aiyana, as if something less than human, as if anyone should own her. He wasn't so sure she wouldn't run off from modern life and back into the bushes.
Clutching the door to the cabin, he thought again about the gold necklace of a cross. It had a story to tell, and he didn't know how he could wrangle it out of her. He stepped inside sopping wet where a morning dampness of the cabin made him scurry across the floor. Luke ran a matchstick to a flame over the Dutch oven and then warmed his hands from his dip in the creek.
He knew he needed to get out of his skivvies. Putting his pot of coffee to boil, he then shifted over near the fireplace where he took an old blanket and hung it over a rope where he often hung clothes to dry near the fireplace.
Luke changed into his dungarees and a fresh shirt from his chest. The door squeaked open. He buttoned up his shirt, tucked it in, and then watched Aiyana make her entrance toward the kitchen table. His dog followed close behind. She fingered the cross necklace around her neck and proceeded to sit down on one of his stick chairs with the robe tied around her waist.
The aroma from the coffee filled the air between them. The coffee sizzled and popped, making Aiyana twinge. As Luke approached her, he couldn't help noticing a large tear in her left eye. It cascaded down her honey-colored complexion. Fingering the cross around her neck, she looked through the small window toward the mountains, as if her mind had left his cabin.
Luke approached her and slipped his coffee pot to a cold plate. He breathed in the aroma, settling his nerves, not wanting to come across as some kind of ruthless interrogator. Prayer crossed his mind. But then he thought about how unlike the congregation in town, he tended to come to God only when he needed a favor. He looked at his dog Sugar planted next to Aiyana. "Looks like you have a shadow to follow you wherever you go."
It broke her spell, as Aiyana looked up at Luke holding his coffee mug. She hadn't bothered to wipe the tear that left a streak down her face. Her vulnerable moment grabbed his heart, and it made her more strikingly beautiful! Her dark tangled hair was a mess, but it didn't diminish the sheen.
As he poured the days old coffee into his cup, he'd forgot to ask if she would like one. He pointed to his coffee in one hand and the metal pot in the other. He grunted, as he held them both up and looked at her with an invite to share it. Luke's mouth dried. A nervous sweat formed on his forehead.
"My father is chief of the Crow. My mother was taken by the Cheyenne, then traded to the Crow. She lost her father, mother, and little brother. Mother was adopted into the tribe. If not for them, my mother told me she would not have lasted the first winter with the savage tribe.
As Luke sat down, he nearly fell from his chair. "So, you can speak English. Why didn't you from the start?"
"My mother told me not to trust the white men any more than a red skin. She saw what French fur traders did to the squaws. She wanted me to leave. She helped me escape. She wanted me to find what was left of her family. She believes the bluecoats lost her trail, or had reason to believe she died."
Luke didn't have the heart to hurt her with his words anymore. If the truth be told, she was pricking his heart with every word she spoke. He wanted to prove her mother wrong. He wanted her to know he wasn't like other men who took advantage of a female.
It was like a dam in Aiyana's eyes had finally broken. Tears fell freely, finally letting go of her coiled emotions. "My mother's parents were missionaries. Trusting souls who thought they could preach to Cheyenne people. They left the safety of the Fort and ventured out to build a church and set out to convince the tribe of a savior who hung on a cross."
Aiyana passed the cross necklace toward Luke's hands where the steam from his coffee was between them. His calloused hands touched the necklace but reached for her hands, as she shook with emotion.
"It...it was my grandmother's," she said.
Luke drew in a deep breath and squeezed her hands. They were strikingly soft and tender considering her blistered and beaten appearance from the first day. "Who beat You?"
"Cheyenne found me. They claimed me for their tribe. I was told I needed to marry the son of Chief Running Bear. They would make peace with my Crow family and offer gifts. The first time I tried to escape, they beat me. His son was in love with me, but I needed to leave. I needed to tell someone about my mother. She wanted what family she had left to know she lived."
Luke held one hand and drank from his coffee mug. "Your mother taught you English."
"My mother was given her Bible from the tribe. She earnestly read it to me, and I learned the language. She told me as time went on, as the season came and went, she gained a great audience of children who would listen to her stories, even when they may not have understood."
"And this Cheyenne warrior. He looks for you?"
"He's crazy with love. He will cross many mountains to find me. He told me so when I tried to escape the first time."
Luke looked over at the mantel and swallowed a lump in his throat. He thought of his bride, Ruth Thompson. She'd be on the rail heading west. He was days away from traveling to Julesburg to fetch her.
The rest of the day Aiyana worked outside preparing deer hides for sale in town. Luke was impressed with her ability to work the hides to a soft velvet touch. He tended to his garden, which was an imminent disaster. With a boiling sun in a stark blue sky, Luke attempted to bring his squash and beats back to life with water buckets from the creek. Naked from the waist up, he managed a lather of sweat with a mind to sit beneath the shade of a pine tree.
When Aiyana was finished skinning the flesh from the hides, she stretched them out in the sun on posts Luke had originally set. She needed no instruction, and for most of the day there were hardly any words spoken. Once the sun melted into the mountains, Aiyana surprised Luke with a ladle to drink water from a bucket, and head found wild berries to share. Kneeling, they took a moment to look at each other with such mystery between them.
Aiyana served Luke, until her hands graced his lips. Her touch was again a jolt to his senses. She looked deep into his hazel eyes. "I prayed for God to save me. Do you believe we met for a reason?"
Luke knew her mother was raised under missionaries before captured by the Indians, but until now he wasn't sure she engaged prayer or took the view that their encounter was providential. "We are at crossroads here, that much I'm sure of."
The shadows toward evening encompassed the pair, as they retired toward the cabin. Inside Luke took a match to an oil lamp by the door. Aiyana carried some fresh logs for the rock fireplace. Luke dusted off an Indian blanket that he placed around her shoulders where she sat in front of the fire.
Coyotes howled in the distance, but there was a sense of calm inside the cabin, with Sugar, his faithful spaniel wedged between them. Aiyana and Luke traded stories while staring into the flaming tongue of the fire.
By forestport12
Come daybreak in the foothills a mist consumed the pair of riders. Luke had placed Aiyana on his pack mule loaded with pelts and salted deer meat. He led with his brown mare ahead, until enough sun had burned off the mist and made the trail less treacherous.
On a ridge, Aiyana caught her first glimpse of town where she would reveal herself to the world and telegraph an uncle back east that his sister was alive and lived among the Mountain Crow people. Luke needed to exchange his pelts with the mercantile store in town. He also needed the telegraph office to find out for sure for sure if there was any word on his traveling bride to be who should be headed to Julesburg.
The pair waded through a shallow creek. Then shafts of light penetrated the trail flanked by Ponderosa Pine. The golden meadows opened toward town as if it made for a postcard. Luke looked over at Aiyana. She was one tough Indian maiden on a mission, and not just a survivor. He secretly pondered how their arrival would play out. She was free to do as she pleased, and he aimed to keep it that way.
Aiyana wore a hat that covered her dark hair. She looked a bit boyish, wearing pants and a shirt of his that made her look consumed by the attire. Truth was, Luke didn't mind her beauty being hidden from prying eyes in town.
As the pair rode into the edge of town folk filed outside. No doubt word spread like a wildfire that Luke had himself an Indian girl keeping him company. Aiyana played the part of a sheepish boy, causing Luke's constrained look to crack a smile on his weathered face.
Passing the livery and the blacksmith shop, one of the church ladies who held a broom sweeping the dust into the air, stopped long enough for the cloud to settle and give her a good gaze at the pair. Luke tipped his hat as they traded looks.
Luke looked sidelong at Aiyana whose eyes showed wonder at seeing a modern town for the first time. "Well now, it looks like they've been expecting us," Luke said. "News here travels faster than the wire."
The pair strode in toward the mercantile shop which doubled as a butcher shop too. Luke tethered the mule and then his brown mare to the hitching post. Aiyana dismounted after him. She helped him with the pack of pelts to take inside while Luke slung deer leg quarters over each shoulder and stepped toward the door. Aiyana followed but then stopped and gazed at the flowery calico dress fitted over a life-sized mannequin.
Luke halted at the door and turned. "Don't fret about her none." He looked at the mannequin. "She's not real. Just a dummy."
A bell on a door announced their arrival. Bethany Williams stepped around the corner and greeted Luke. "Great to see our mountain man has made his way down. And who might be your friend, Luke?"
Luke cleared his throat. "She's Aiyana. I...I found her..."
"So, I've heard." Beth swiped her hands over her white apron. "Pleased to meet you Aiyana. I'm Beth, and my husband, Travis is in the back butchering a cow. Please head straight away to him with those hind quarters there, Lucas. He'll be glad to see you. And here, let me have those pelts Miss...Aiyana. And don't fret here none. We don't all bite our visitors in this town."
Luke headed toward the back but turned almost ashamed for how Aiyana appeared to look, as if swallowed whole by those raggedy clothes. "Beth, it was all I had to give her."
"Well, we're going to have to fix that." Beth set the pelts down on an open table and hugged Aiyana, who didn't know how to react. "Welcome to our sleepy town."
After embracing Aiyana, her hat flipped, and her raven hair slipped to her shoulders.
"My goodness," said Beth, "It's true! The beauty of a woman is in her hair, and those eyes that shine a pearly blue."
Luke's fears were eased, as he made his way out into the back toward his butcher friend. Beth was a Godsend.
Bethany waltzed Aiyana around the shop where she stood and gazed at all the rolls of fabric. True to a woman of the day she pinched the differing fabrics, and Aiyana must have imagined what she could make with all the colors of a rainbow.
Bethany pulled a piece of hard candy from one of her jars on the counter and handed it to Aiyana. "Here, try this. To show her what to do with it, she herself put a piece of hard candy in her mouth.
At first Aiyana spat it out into her hand, then took it in her mouth, rolling it around on her tongue. That burst of flavor must have shocked her senses.
Bethany smiled and asked, "Can you tell me what your name means, dear?"
Aiyana spit the candy out and spoke for the first time. "It means Little Bird."
It was then Aiyana's eyes focused on a parrot in a cage who seemed to be studying Aiyana from the corner. The bird flapped its wings on the pole and spoke. "Little bird...Little bird."
Aiyana laughed. She stalked over to the bird in a cage and spoke. "Free Little Bird. I'm a free Little Bird."
"Free bird...Free bird...Fly away...Fly away..."
| Author Notes |
When I go back and polish, I will be using a different name for the Indian maiden. If one looks up Aiyana, they may find it doesn't mean "Little Bird." But I have another name from the Crow era that will fit that I need to fetch.
Also, as you may have guessed, this is not just a western, it's a love story. |
By forestport12
Lucas led Aiyana to the telegraph office in town. Most folks outside on the dusty streets stopped and gazed, as the pair approached the red lettered building of the Western Union. Aiyana stopped Luke and asked, "Is this the place that one speaks through a wire, and it travels across the open plains?"
Luke stopped at the front of the door where she seemed lost in his eyes. "Are you ready to send a message to the world?"
Aiyana nodded, as if unable to breathe or speak for the weight of a message about the fate of her mother's family hung like a millstone on her thin shoulders.
Luke held the clanging door open so Aiyana could pass inside under his arm.
A spectacled man with wild white hair looked down at the contraption that communicated with the outside world. Luke and Aiyana leaned over the railing meant to keep customers at a distance. The old man stopped looking at letters and let his glasses fall over the bridge of his nose. "Lucas Cole, I presume, and I think I have what you came here to find."
Holding the telegram in his hand, he hardly noticed Aiyana who kept her hair under the plainsman hat. He stood and studied the telegram in front of Luke's curious eyes.
"I can read it, Sam." Luke held out his hand.
"Yes, you can. Indeed, you can. Just needed some proofing." Sam handed Luke the letter with a wrinkled brow when eyes met the girl standing next to him. "Could this be the one I heard came down from the mountains?"
"She was among the Crow. Names Aiyana."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance."
Luke busied himself reading the telegram. Sam smiled with a toothy grin. "She's getting off the train in Julesburg."
Luke paused. "Sam, would you mind if I read it myself."
Sam leaned on the banister and smiled at Aiyana. "No, I don't mind, Luke. But your bride to be is coming. And you might want to borrow a wagon in town, cause it's a good day's ride to Jules."
"Sam! Give me a moment to let it sink in." Luke slipped over to a bench against the back wall. "Don't have much time."
"That's what I've been trying to tell..." Luke interrupted Sam.
"Sam, take care of Aiyana. She's got a message that needs delivering."
Aiyana held out a note in her hand. "I have a message for an uncle."
Sam snatched the not from Aiyana. Luke sat on the bench with the telegram in his hand. His mind was lost in a whirlwind. How would he explain to his mail order bride that he found an Indian girl who needs him. And where would he keep her in the meantime?
"Okay, you want to tell me then." Sam sat, dipping his pen in the inkwell on his desk. "Now who needs to get this."
Luke intervened, "We're not sure how to get a hold of her uncle. His name is Henry Bragman, a senator from NY. We need you to get this to the authorities who can notify that Harriet Hartwell was taken by the Indians with no other known survivors. She lives among the Crow and Aiyana here is her daughter."
"I see," said Sam, as he looked at Aiyana with pity. "You poor thing."
"No one who knows the Great Spirit is poor," said Aiyana.
"What?" Sam gave Luke a quizzical look.
"You heard her right," said Luke, worried Sam looked down on her as a half-breed. "Indians have souls."
Aiyana fingered her cross necklace and looked at Luke. Sam craned his neck from the desk. "It may take time, several days even, before I get word from authorities and this uncle."
Sam scratched his head and busied himself at his desk. As the pair left out the door, one could hear the clickety click of the machine.
Luke looked at Aiyana. "You did good, Little Bird." When Luke said it for the first time, it made him want to hold her. His heart ached and his stomach churned over her plight.
Aiyana looked up at Luke with hunger in her eyes. Luke did his best to hide his concern for her and his beating heart that raced whenever she brushed against him. "I need to go to the stable and borrow a wagon and a team of horses. I'm going to Julesburg."
"You go to get a bride you never met. Such strange customs. Love cannot breathe or be born on a wire."
It startled and stopped Luke in his tracks for a moment, knowing she might be proven true. But then again Luke was a man who kept his word, even if he hated it. "I need you to stay in my cabin. You'll be safe there."
After Luke said it, he wasn't sure he could promise her that with thoughts of a Blackfoot Indian desperately searching for her. "Crazy in love with her," was what Aiyana said.
"You know how to shoot a rifle?" he asked, as they walked back toward the stable.
A heavy silence filled the space between them, but their eyes spoke plenty.
"I suppose I need to teach you how to shoot." Then Luke thought back to how he nearly shot her when she crashed through the bushes across the creek in the mountains. He thought about how life can turn on a moment with a stray word or a bullet.
| Author Notes | Interesting reading on the Indians reaction to the telegraph wire. Obviously they thought of it negatively, but I even read where they would hear it generating a noise from the wire in remote places, and so I thought to call this, "Live Wire." |
By forestport12
Along the trail to the foothills toward the cabin, Luke found a half dozen discarded whiskey bottles. Aiyana, riding on the mule, craned her neck and watched Luke stuff used bottles into his saddlebag.
As Luke mounted, he nodded. "I'm going to teach you how to shoot my Spencer. I expect you to sleep with it over the next few days while I'm gone."
Aiyana said nothing, as Luke passed by her where the pair rallied over the next ridge.
Luke dismounted from his horse where a thin clear creek ran over gravel. With a few empty bottles dangling between his fingers, he tripped over the shallow water and arranged them for target practice on a boulder.
Aiyana dismounted and stood near Luke where he pulled his rifle from the sheath of his horse. Luke handed the rifle to her, and she held it to her breast with both hands. "Our people were given the powder gun by the army once when I was a child. We sided with the blue coats against Cheyenne and Blackfoot who took our land where the buffalo grazed. One soldier gazed at me and whispered to another blue coat, as if he understood I was not like the others."
"This is a repeater rifle." Luke took the rifle back and carefully demonstrated the actions taken. "You pull this lever back and a charge fills the hole, then cock the trigger on top, close one eye and squeeze with it tight against your shoulder." Luke playfully flipped the brim of her hat after his demonstration.
The pair walked over near the edge of the creek from where a row of empty bottles was arranged. He took aim, pulled back the lever and cocked the gun, shattering a whiskey bottle to bits.
"Okay," he said. "Your turn, Little Bird."
She took a deep breath of air, as she took the rifle with both hands. Luke leaned against her and adjusted it toward her shoulder. Then he held his arms around her with his chin coming to rest against her neck. His stomach churned, as he exhaled into her ear. He placed her right hand over the lever where her finger flirted with the trigger. "Now, close one eye like that, and then get the mark here in site, and now take your right thumb and pull back. That's it. Line it up on that point."
The rifle fired on a hair trigger as she raised it, missing the target and sending the plug into the empty echo of the canyon. She flopped backward into Cole's arms from the kick. He laughed with his arms wrapped around her. She fought to untangle herself, as she turned red faced. Stepping on her hat, she stood to her feet, clutching the rifle.
Aiyana placed the butt of the rifle firmly to her shoulder, pulled back the lever, and cocked the gun.
This time the sound reverberated from the rock and the bullet chipped a piece, causing an empty bottle to lift slightly. The next shot shattered one of the bottles. Aiyana turned to Luke with a smile on her face. "I'm no frail little bird."
Aiyana fired another round, shattering another glass bottle. Luke finished chewing on a piece of grass and smiled from ear to ear. "I'd say you can hold your own, and then some."
The pair rode further into the cedars along the marked trail toward the cabin. Stopping beneath the shadow of one such tree, Luke took to Aiyana's side and leaned in. "I'll do my best to get back in a few days. What's mine is yours."
Aiyana gazed into Luke's brown, gravy eyes with her vivid blues. "I will tend to your garden and keep your place till you return."
The pair parted ways. As Luke rode on down, he turned his horse and watched Aiyana disappear on the trail over the next ridge. His stomach roiled and turned inside. He hoped it wasn't a mistake leaving her there. All the way down and back toward town to fetch a wagon, he knew she was getting lodged in his heart and wasn't sure if he could get her out.
Luke needed to get to Julesburg to fetch a bride, come hell, high water, or an Indian maiden, he couldn't stand her up.
To be continued...
By forestport12
It was a strange sensation for Aiyana to be in a trapper's cabin alone as an Indian running from her past. From the loft on a feather bed, she looked through a window where stars shined like silver trinkets. Her sense of safety was furthered by a blanket of darkness in the cabin and Luke's dog Sugar, who slept with her in his bed. She'd also secured the loaded carbine beside her for good measure.
Thoughts of Blackfoot searching for Aiyana took over moments before she nodded toward sleep. She'd see images of them hiding by the trees with painted faces, circling the cabin. Then she turned her thoughts toward how the Great Spirit through his Son guided her to the cabin where Luke lived a solitary life. She breathed a soft sigh. Finally, she drifted off to sleep praying Luke would return safely from his trip.
@@
Luke found the trail over the rolling hills to Julesburg rutted and rough for his wagon. A summer drought had turned the trail into hard-packed layers. As he snapped the reins, he had his doubts he'd make it before dark closed in. The sunset splashed the mountains behind him with a purple haze.
Rather than take the risk of a broken wheel axle, he found a place beneath a mesquite tree where he tied down the wagon and grabbed a buffalo blanket. He pulled the saddle from his horse behind the wagon and shifted over where he built a small fire. The last thing he wanted was to have more time to think about his decision over an arranged marriage to a mail order bride from the east.
Darkness swallowed Luke whole, as he rested his head on the saddle and watched stars fill the sky. He wondered if Aiyana was okay and fretted over how Blackfoot might be on her trail. His mind spun on a reel with how he plucked her from the wilderness with all her scrapes and bruises. If something happened to her, he wouldn't forgive himself.
A small breeze fanned the flames and the cold prairie air knifed through his flesh and cut to the bone. His lower back ached from the twisted trail, as he fished for a soft place on the grass. Luke looked over at his horse. "I've got to fetch me a bride, Lucy. Wish you could talk and tell me if I'm making the right move."
His faithful mare shook her head and whinnied over his words.
Luke covered his eyes with his hat and listened to the night breeze until he succumbed to a restless sleep.
###
A sliver of light appeared over the horizon when Luke stumbled to his feet near where the fire turned to ashes. He needed to get to Julesburg before the train pulled into the station. Ruth Thompson would be depending on him to be there. She wouldn't know a soul. She'd have no one, and as far as he could tell from her letters, her former husband broke his neck in an accident. She was a twenty-two-year-old grieving widow with no one to care for her back east.
As he worked the wagon down the rutted trail to Julesburg, he wondered if his bride had told him everything about her past. Then again, he never bothered to tell her about all the hardships she might endure living in a trapper's cabin. Why paint a bleak picture?
By the time he made the outskirts of Julesburg he could smell the fire and rot. If there was a hell on earth, this place was it, he thought to himself. He hoped to grab Ruth Thompson from the train station as he pulled the wagon through town to the depot.
Julesburg was a junction of sorts with a mix of army, Indians, outlaws. It was a sore thumb in the foothills. By the time he got near the train station, steam could be seen wafting from the locomotive as it rolled down the naked tracks toward town. Crowds gathered on a platform to greet someone they loved. Luke wasn't sure about love, or even how he'd act when he laid his eyes on Ruth Thompson for the first time in person.
He hitched his wagon and strode over to the train platform where he parted through the crowd. It was then Luke forgot to hold up a sign stating who he was. Then she appeared like the picture he kept on his mantel, only this one was in living color. She noticed him staring at her.
Luke's mouth gaped open. She was prettier than the black and white picture. Her blonde straw hair glistened in the sun, and a breeze made her fine hair swirl beneath her feathered hat She wore a sky-blue dress with white lace that accented her bright brown eyes. She smiled a dumbstruck look stepping on to the platform. Luke paused and pawed on his beard. His nervous habit.
A baggage handler found her one suitcase. As Ruth turned, a little girl with brown braided hair about the age of five stepped out from the train car and hugged her. "Momma."
Ruth held the girl with a worried look toward Luke.
Luke's eyes widened. His face stiffened. It wasn't what he expected. After exchanging letters, she had made no mention of a child! Ruth Thompson claimed to be all alone in the world! Luke huffed. He did an about face. He marched down the steps and toward his wagon without a word.
"Mr. Cole!" He heard her calling his name in the bustling, soiled street. "Mr. Cole! I can explain."
As far as Luke was concerned anyone who lived a lie was no one he cared to associate with. By the time he got to his horse and wagon, he simmered down enough to turn and watch her close in with the little girl in tow while dragging one bulky suitcase.
Luke tried not to say something he'd regret. "You led me to believe you had no child." The moment Luke said it, he could see the rejection in the doe eyes of the girl who clung to her mother. "I don't get it. It looks like you're running from something back east."
With tears in her eyes and almost out of breath, she halted in front of him. "Mr. Cole, I was afraid..."
"What are you running from? No one comes this far with a daughter and one suitcase, if they aren't leaving something behind that's trying to catch up to them. I never bargained for a bride with unseen baggage."
"I know. I know," she said. "My husband did pass in an untimely accident."
"What kind: a fall, horse kick him, what?"
Ruth covered her daughters' ears. "He came home drunk, breathing threats, beating me until I was black and blue. Then he wanted to have his way with me, Mr. Cole. That's when I gave the heel of my foot and broke his neck. Even back east men treat women like their property. I couldn't have gotten a fair trial."
Luke stood speechless. His mind waged a war inside him.
"They will hang me, and then my daughter will be an orphan. Please. Please. I'm begging you, take me far from here. I don't want to lose my child."
For a solitary man, Luke's life was seriously getting gummed up with all kinds of female problems. All he wanted when he moved west was a simple life. Then he noted the little girl seemed almost deathly scared of him. Tears stung his eyes. He got down on one knee, took his finger and wiped a fat tear from the little girl's cheek. "What's your name sweetie?"
"Anna."
"And how old might you be?"
"Five."
Luke plucked her from the ground and into his arms and held her tight. "Let's get you two out of this town. I reckon there will be time enough to sort this out on the way back to Silver Creek."
As Luke placed Ruth's daughter into the wagon and then gave her mother help aboard, Anna blurted. "Are you my new father?"
Luke wasn't sure how to answer Anna. He gave slack to the reins, wondering if a wanted poster of Ruth had made it out this far west. He wasn't about to stick around and find out. He needed to get back into the open prairie air where he could ask, no argue with God over how his life could get so complicated for having a soft heart.
| Author Notes |
One of my best friends actually married a British girl whose former husband was a drunkard and a wife beater. She managed to rear up and kick him like a mule so hard, he died. She was cleared of charges and free to marry my friend.
Truth is stranger than fiction! |
By forestport12
There was a heavy air of silence on the buckboard of the wagon home. Anna, the little girl, was tucked between her mother and Luke. He had hard questions for Ruth, but every time words filled his thoughts, he held his tongue over her daughter's wide-eyed wonder on the open range.
The sky was a sea of blue with a morning sun on their backs. A flurry of yellow daises dotted the rustic landscape of rocks and rolling hills. If not for the riveting ride of the jutted trail, it would seem like a magical journey for the young daughter. Luke figured he'd wait until they made a bed beneath the stars before he'd quiz Ruth more. He could only imagine how little Anna must have harbored a Jaded view of the world after her mother fled the law when her husband died.
After several hours, Anna pointed to the snow-capped mountains like God's cathedrals spiraling into the heavens. She stood and pointed, "I see mountains, Momma! Look."
Ruth made her sit before she fell off the wagon. "Yes, and that is where Mr. Cole lives."
Luke grinned with his hands on the reins. "It's a might farther than it looks, but somewhere in there is the cabin."
Anna turned to Luke. "Momma said we would be safe in the mountains. She said no one can find us there."
Luke nodded, but he knew the town below his cabin, Silver Creek, and how they wag their tongues more than the telegraph wires sing. It seemed his simple life was getting more complicated by the hour. And then there was Aiyana the Indian maiden. Soon there will be more fugitives hiding from the world on his homestead.
As Luke plodded along on the trail, Anna nodded off and leaned her head into his ribs. One thing rested on his heart for sure. He didn't want to let this innocent child down, no matter what happened between him and Ruth. He didn't know if it was possible to work at loving someone. Somehow it didn't sit right with Luke anymore, having sent for a mail order bride.
By the time the sun splashed the mountains, he'd managed to get where a small creek trickled through the foothills. Jumping from the wagon, he spied a spring fed section of water near a grove of trees. It would be a good place to spend the night.
Luke stepped over to the wagon where Anna slept on her side from the long ordeal of a train ride and then the wagon trail. Ruth dutifully handed Luke some bladder skin pouches he had made himself. "It's getting dark. We'll settle in here for the night." Luke helped Ruth down from the wagon. "I've got some salted meat and beans to make a meal. Oats for breakfast too."
Ruth nodded. Together the pair made some pallets, and she hadn't bothered to wake Anna. They worked together to make a place for Anna to lay down near where you could hear the clear mountain water splash over rocks. The sky dimmed and revealed a clear sky marked by silvery stars.
Ruth excused herself and parted down near some gravel edge where she could freshen herself and sponged off with her hair pinned and a shirt tied to her mid drift. There in the twilight, she became a shadowy figure, a shapely one. Luke had to pry his eyes off her and turned his focus to Anna asleep in the buckboard.
Luke took and cradled Anna in his arms. Kneeling, he placed her on a soft pallet. Then he found some kindling and started a fire. As he looked for dead wood by the trees, Ruth appeared in the moonlight. "I made Anna a place by the fire and fixed her with a blanket to keep warm."
"Thanks so much." Ruth teased her hair. Luke figured her mind teased with thoughts on what to say. She had some serious explaining to do. Luke didn't like the idea of having to look over his shoulder on the way home.
After Luke gathered some broke branches for a robust fire, Ruth had already found some buffalo jerky. She handed a piece to Luke where he sat beside her while Anna slept.
Ruth's face glowed in the fire. She looked too soft and supple, not a woman prepared for a lawless homesteader's life. She turned her gaze from the fire. "I suppose I have some explaining to do."
Luke stirred the fire with a stick. "I reckon so. Try me."
"I want you to know, I'm thankful you didn't leave us stranded. I don't know what I would do if they took my child and put me behind bars. It makes my stomach churn with a foul taste."
Luke took a bite of his jerky. "Did you mean anything you said in those letters or was it all just a sack of lies."
"My correspondence with you, a chance at a new life for myself and my daughter was what gave me hope. I...I dreamed of being out here, a brand-new life. I...I fell in love with your eyes. Kind eyes. I knew I could trust you, a man of compassion. And now...now that I see your amber eyes, I have no doubt."
"This was more than I bargained for...not to mention looking over my shoulder. If they believe you murdered your husband back east, they won't just write you off."
Luke watched the lines of her forehead deepen in the firelight. "You believe they will come this far west?"
"Pinkerton detectives have been known to travel by horse or rail. They take pride to find someone all the way to hell if need be."
A heavy silence filled the air between them save for the snap and pop of the fire.
"Best we get some rest, Ma'am. We need to leave at the crack of dawn. Like I say, I make better time when I don't have to look over my shoulder. I'm not turning you in, but I'm not sure about our arrangement."
"I understand, Mr. Cole."
"Call me Luke. I think we can dispense with any formalities out here beneath this mighty big sky."
"I don't blame you, if you don't want this marriage. I don't blame you, if you don't trust me. You're a good man Luke Cole."
Luke pillared his head on a sack of oats and tipped his hat. "I wished people would stop thinking of me as some kind of angel. I didn't set out to fetch you because I needed a pair of wings. I do fine without them."
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