The Far Side of Lonesome (2 page)

She nodded. “That’s a good word to
describe it…I suppose you realize I didn't want to come with you.
But the chief had made up his mind. Some of my friends didn't want
me to go.”

“Yes ma'am I figured as much. Now,
ma’am, we got us a problem and I need your help in deciding how to
handle it.”

She didn’t wince. She stared at him for
a long time, her eyes going up an down him curiously. “Go
on…”

“Them Shawnee….well…some of them seemed
kinda reluctant to hand you over. And believe me it weren’t our
intention to grab you and the baby there, the baby bein' another
surprise. But on the other hand, me and Hoot as honorable men
couldn’t quite leave ya there, knowin’ you was white…and that you’d
been a captive.” Jeb tried to use all his manners; he generally
hoped he was doing a good job. “We’d planned to trade for horses,
that was all…ours bein’ worn out.”

She blinked, and then glanced at him,
“Sorry I wasn’t a horse…” She let him go on ahead of her and fell
back then, as though she'd talked enough. Jeb slowed deliberately,
needing to talk to the woman about the situation they were in. He
hoped she didn't take offense.

"I understand your quandary. You are
black men, and not accustomed to being around a white woman." When
Jeb didn’t say anything for a long time but stayed with her, she
continued, “I've been a captive many years now. The baby is the son
of the chief’s son,” she announced boldly.

Jeb sighed a little too heavily, and
her head reared proudly. A soft chuckle caught the wind. "Holy
molie," Hoot whispered.

“And you wouldn’t leave him….” Jeb
finished for her.

“That’s right, he’s my son…I could not
leave him…” she felt a pang of regret or something for her face
changed now. "I guess that's hard for a man to
understand."

“How long were you a captive?” Jeb
asked, spitting his tobacco once more.

“Five years…” she winced from the pain
of it, Jeb reckoned.

“Is your husband…?”

“My white husband….is dead…we were on a
wagon train, headed for Texas, for a land grant there. We were
attacked by Comanche…” she began in a breathless whisper. "We were
crossing from Indian territory into Texas, we'd barely cross the
Red before they attacked us. Most of the adult were killed or
captured."

“Comanche huh? They trade you for
horses or guns to the Shawnee?”

“Yes, about six months later, after
making a slave of me,” she raised her chin proudly. “I…did my best
to resist their torture, but I hated them…and they knew it. I was
more trouble than they bargained for. I spent every day trying to
figure out a way to escape them…” She admitted freely. “First
because they killed my husband, and second because they treated me
so badly. They laughed at every struggle, never once giving me a
chance to learn anything from them.”

Jeb studied on her words for a long
minute then glanced at her, “Then the Shawnee took you to their
camp, huh?”

“Yes…they did…”

Jeb nodded, “Shawnee treat their
captives better, I’m told. They sorta believe that if a white man
kills one of their own, then they are entitled to steal a white and
make them theirs. It’s their way, I guess. It ain't right in the
white's eyes, but it's their way, I reckon.”

“You know much about the Shawnee?” she
asked.

“A little. Me and my partner here, we
was buffalo hunters. We’ve traded with the Shawnee some. They never
gave us much trouble, some of them even fought in the war with the
union army. Most of them settled into Cherokee country north of the
Red. But a few scattered and lived by the Red, like your
bunch.”

A silence lapsed and Jeb looked at her
again, this time keeping his eyes pinned on her proud
face.

“So go on, tell me about living with
them…” Jeb insisted.

She stared at him a long time, but he
waited in silence. When she realized he wasn't going anywhere and
was merely waiting for her story, she firmed her lips. “Once I
learned the ways of the Shawnee, it was different, they treated me
as an equal. I worked hard and they seemed to appreciate my
efforts. After they saw I was willing to work…they began to accept
me as one of them. I realized very quickly that they were different
from the Comanche. They never laughed or shamed me, but offered
help and guidance. Life began to be livable again. I began to make
friends with them and then I was given to the chief’s son, as he
had no wife or children. He was a good man, very humble, very
giving, he treated me with much respect, and I bore his child, they
accepted me as part of the tribe. They were proud he had a son. We
were married by the chief himself. They considered me one of them.”
She announced. “I learned to cope by accepting my fate and in time,
I learned to care about the people...”

Jeb nodded, “Yeah…I can see where that
might happen…I mean over time I'm sure you felt it was your only
hope for survival. Did you like it there?”

The woman hung her head for the first
time, “No…not at first, then…later, it became easier just to accept
it all…but I guess you wouldn’t believe that… It’s hard to
understand when you haven’t been through something like this. But
they were kind to me. Most of them. They taught me how to survive,
to live…even to love…”

Jeb was quiet again and nodded. “Yes
ma’am…you must have been awful brave to have lived with them,
bearing his child and his attention.”

She was silent for a long while then
she added in a soft whisper once more. “There was nothing brave
about it. He was not a mean man; he treated me as his wife, and
with respect. I didn't bear his attention, I welcomed it. He was my
husband in eveyr way. More so than my white husband, I might add.”
She raised her eyes to Jeb, and he finally saw the tears there. But
she didn’t let them fall. “I grew…to care about him. Maybe I
shouldn’t have, but when you live with a man, it’s hard not
to.”

Jeb’s heart nearly stopped when he
looked into those sky blue eyes, she spoke with her heart and he
sensed she meant every word. He’d never met a white woman who could
adjust her thinking like that. This woman was stronger than she
knew.

However, if she spoke it aloud, she’d
be in great danger.

His eyes slid over her slowly now,
digesting her. She wasn’t the prettiest woman he’d ever seen, but
there was something about her that tore into his heart and made him
aware of her as a woman. Not that he’d dare act upon his feelings,
for he was a God fearing man, but it was there nonetheless. The
feeling was sure strange to Jeb. He’d have to pray on those
feelings to God, for some kind of understanding of it. But what she
said…startled him. He stared at her now, his mouth open, his eyes
crinkling into some sort of twisted emotion. He'd never met a white
woman who spoke with such honestly, such an open heart.

“Yes, ma’am. The Shawnee are a right
fair bunch of Indians. I’ve tangled with a few and they fight as
fair as any white man.” Jeb nodded. “But ma’am, well…you can’t go
saying such in front of your own people, like that. There is no
tellin’ what they might do to you. They hate the Indian as much as
they do the Negroes. It’s unheard of a white woman loving an
Indian.”

Again she was silent, but after a bit,
she spoke.“You are right about that. I understand, but no…you’re
wrong too. There were others...that grew to feel the same as I.
Maybe it was because we were captives for so long. Or maybe it was
because we appreciated their kindnesses. I don’t know. But there
were women who refused to go back to their people—for more reasons
than one. We talked of many things as time went by, the resignation
you feel when no one comes immediately to rescue you—the
hopelessness of the life before. A few white men came to our camps
a couple of years later, and all of them—you could see it in their
faces—the disgust for us. The fact that we preferred to live
instead of die made them hate us. Some of them were family too. But
that didn’t matter…the feelings were there and we could see it in
their faces. It is hard to image going back now.”

“And you…why didn’t you refuse to go
with us, you had to know there would be more trouble? If the chief
cared for you and your son, why would he send you away?”

“I did refuse at first…but the chief
said it would help make peace for his people, if I went. I had
grown so used to it there. I felt I was safe. Now the uncertainty
stares at me again. And you are right, I did not want to leave,
because I loved the old man and his son. They wanted me to leave
the baby with them…so he would have a chance, but I could not leave
my child. I could not. They were right…but I could not leave
him.”

“He didn’t understand…that old chief.
Hoot and I…we’re black men. There ain’t a town alive that would
tolerate a black man bringin’ a white woman back to civilization
from an Indian camp where she had birthed an Indian baby. Don’t you
see? Not in Texas, not anywhere.”

“Yes, I see…but what am I to do? I’m
going with you now, I know not where, or what I will face. But do I
really have a choice? I can't go back now, I am dead to them now.
And I am dead to the white people too. But I go
nonetheless.”

Jeb grew quiet. He had no answers
either.

“Crowfoot was not a handsome man,” she
said, changing the subject some time later, as though Jeb were
interested in her Indian husband. “But he was a proud man, a good
man, and I was proud to bear his child. No man could have been
prouder of his child, than he. He was so pleased to have a son. He
treated me…like a human being.” She said raising her chin in
defiance, “I’m not ashamed to say it. He was my
husband.”

“Crowfoot, huh?” Jeb repeated the name.
“Well now, what do they call you, ma’am?” Jeb asked out of the
blue.

“My white name was Sarah. My Indian
name was Moonwalker, as I walked at night many times around the
camps,” she announced. "In the Comanche camp I walked to get away,
in the Shawnee camp, I walked to observe, to learn, to be with
them."

“Well, Sarah,” Jeb hollered loud enough
for Hoot to hear. “This here is Hoot, and I’m Jeb.”

Sarah nodded to Hoot. Hoot twisted his
head around to look at her and smile and nod.

“We’ll camp in a couple of hours and
then we gotta talk… some more.”

She nodded.

Jeb caught up to Hoot and told him what
the woman had told him.

“You think that buck’s gonna come after
her?” Hoot asked after gathering all the information.

“Maybe, maybe not. Shawnee ain’t a bad
lot, for Indians.” Jeb explained. Jeb cleared his throat and
glanced at Hoot, “Maybe we should give her back…”

“Give her back? Are you serious? After
all this, you want to just hand her back to them Indians? She’s a
white woman, Jeb. She deserves the chance to make it in her world,”
Hoot said. "It ain't right, giving her back to the Indians. She's a
white woman…And yes…I ain't a bit sure they will want
her."

Jeb smiled at his friend, “I just
needed to know how you felt about it, Hoot. Don’t get riled. We’ll
figure something out. But this shore ain't a easy problem to
settle.”

“God knows that woman has faced more
than most men could. But…we ride into town with her and there will
be a ruckus, and you know it. We hand her back to the Indians, how
we gonna live with ourselves? We’re not that kind. We’re better
than that. We seen too much hate. Still, I don't have no answers.
Even I been searchin' for some, but they just don't
come.”

Listening to the clop of the horses
against the dry canyon lands of north Texas, Jeb rubbed his chin.
“I got some ideas, but first we got to talk to her…”

“You know there ain’t a decent town
gonna accept her with that kid along…” Hoot snorted. “Or even her
with us. That poor woman just traded one problem for another. And
so did we. We should have rode them old horses out of there and
this wouldn't be happenin'. We could have walked 'em.”

“She didn’t have any choice…Hoot, but
be quiet. She came with us, to help them, to help bridge a peace
between the white and the Indian. They’d let her go with the
grandson of the chief, it’s unheard of. And I doubt the white will
even understand the nature of that gesture. They must have thought
a lot of her to let her take her child with her. You know they
didn't have to let her.” Jeb explained. “Don’t you see, she’s had
troubles for five long years, trying to figure out how to stay
alive? She don’t need to hear ours.”

“I expect you're right about that,”
Hoot agreed and took a drink of water from his canteen. He glanced
at the woman who spent most of her time not looking at them but the
scenery about her.

He stopped and offered the woman a
drink, and she took it without even wiping his spit away. Hoot
smiled at her, he'd be danged if he'd take her back to the Indians.
The little things about a person made Hoot size them up, and right
now, this little lady was shore different than any white woman he
ever met.

Jeb couldn’t keep from smiling at her
actions too. “Easy…not too much at once…”

She nodded and gave it back to him
after she whetted the baby’s lips with a ribbon she soaked in
water. The baby hadn't wailed or cried, but sat contentedly in his
cradle.