The Independent Bride (44 page)

“I only said that when you didn’t follow my advice. But so far you’ve managed to bring off everything you’ve attempted.”

“I couldn’t have without your help.”

“I’d like to believe that, but I’m not so sure.” His smile remained, but it seemed fixed and stiff. “I have a second envelope here,” he said as he passed it to Abby, “but you don’t have to open it. You either send it to Washington or you tear it up.”

“What is it?”

“It’s my acceptance of the promotion.”

“Why give it to me?”

“Because what you do with it will determine what I do. You see, Pamela and I had a discussion this afternoon. Well, it was hardly a discussion. We were in agreement before we even started. We took a vote and it was unanimous.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We voted to invite you to become a member of our family. I want you to be my wife.”

“And I want you to be my momma,” Pamela said.

“Bryce, I’ve already told you—”

“I asked Moriah her opinion of what you said. And she said—”

“I said you were lying to yourself,” Moriah said. “You’ve been in love with the colonel for weeks. It’s stupid to keep denying it.”

“I don’t deny it,” Abby said, feeling cornered. “What I said was I wasn’t the best wife for Bryce. I’d come between him and his family, and I’d probably blight his career.”

“Pamela and I took another vote,” Bryce said. “You want to tell her what we decided, Pamela?”

“We don’t have to go to Philadelphia if you don’t want to. We can stay right here. Daddy can keep on telling people what to do, and I can learn to ride and shoot a rifle like you.”

“You can’t do that,” Abby protested. “I couldn’t stand it if I knew I was in the way of your career.”

“We took another vote. It was also unanimous. Actually, we took a lot of votes and they were all unanimous. We’re not going anywhere without you. If you stay, we’ll stay. If you leave, we’ll follow you. We can’t be happy unless you’re with us.”

“Sarah’s momma says my new momma would have to love me. Do you still love me?”

“Of course I do.”

“I want to marry you,” Bryce said. “Not just for Pamela. For myself. I’ll do anything I can to convince you to say yes.”

“For God’s sake, Abby, put the man out of his misery,” Moriah said. ‘Tell him you want to marry him.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Abby snapped. “Of course I want to marry him, but I don’t want to ruin his life.”

“Then tell him you’ll be happy to go wherever he goes and support him in any career he chooses. You can, you know. You don’t have to worry about St. Louis anymore.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to fall in love with him.”

“I didn’t, but it was obvious you were crazy about him. Besides, as men go, he seems fairly decent”

From Moriah that was high praise.

Abby’s heart beat so rapidly she felt breathless. It looked as if she could have everything she’d dreamed of. All she had to do was say yes. She looked from Bryce to Pamela and back to Bryce. Poor dear, he looked almost white with tension. She could understand why Pamela was so anxious for her to marry her father, but it was hard to believe a man as strong and self-sufficient as Bryce could possibly look as though he would fall all to pieces if she refused him.

She looked at the envelope in her hand. He had placed his future in her hands. She could tear it up, and they would stay here. She would be sure of her place at the fort and secure in the knowledge that she could handle the job of wife of a fort commander. After the last three months, she felt she had conquered the hardest part. She had the strength to become a woman of the West. She could learn to feel at home here.

Or she could send the envelope off, and pack her bags for Philadelphia. She would have to face his family, prove she was more worthy to be his wife than some socialite picked for her pedigree and family connections. She would also have to face the world of Washington politics. She didn’t know anyone in government, had no idea what happened or what role she could play. Going back East would be a difficult task, probably one she would never fully master.

But she knew whatever she did, or chose not to do, Bryce would continue to love her. That was all that mattered. She handed the envelope back to him.

“I’ll go wherever you go,” she said.

“We’re going to stay here!” Pamela squealed with happiness, jumped down from her chair, and threw herself into Abby’s arms. But even as she hugged the little girl to her bosom, Abby’s eyes were on Bryce. His reaction was far more restrained than his daughter’s, but for Abby it was what counted most. She could tell how worried he’d been that she would refuse him, how relieved he was she hadn’t, how happy she’d made him.

She knew because she saw tears cause his eyes to glisten with happiness. She’d never tell him what she’d seen, but she’d carry the memory in her heart always.

Author’s Note

No man was ever more caught in the middle than the Indian agent. Appointed by the federal government to live among the Indians, he dispensed annuities that often did not arrive on time. Singlehandedly, he was supposed to restrain the legions of traders who cheated the Indians and illegally sold them whiskey. He was expected to teach the Indian how to farm in areas that were often too arid for agriculture—and where, in any case, the government often supplied the wrong kinds of farm implements. It was also the agent’s job to keep white settlers off Indian land. But in this capacity, too, he was practically powerless, since the government steadily undermined his role by giving in to the demands of land-hungry pioneers. For all this he was paid less man a village postmaster. Not surprisingly, most agents were ineffective or plain dishonest, and the few who were committed to the job ultimately failed.

For every good agent, there were many more corrupt ones. Samuel Colley, a Cheyenne agent, had his son join him on the reservation. The young man arrived with about 30 cows to his name, and presumably following the example of his father, amassed a small fortune of $25,000 within two years by selling goods that rightfully belonged to the Indians. At another reservation a new agent arrived in 1869 to take up his post and found that his predecessor had not been seen for a month. There was no money, and there were $14,000 worth of unpaid bills. None of the annuities promised to the Indians in return for their land had been distributed to them in four years.

Willian Barnhart, the agent at the Umatilla Reservation, had to be replaced for killing an Indian. His successor, Timothy Davenport, was surprised to find a salaried school-teacher but no school. This enterprising fellow had been acting as a private secretary to Barnhart; he openly admitted to Davenport “the place of agent at Umatilla is worth $4,000 a year.” An agent’s salary was $1,500.

The above excerpt was taken from
THE OLD WEST: The Indians
(Time-Life Books, 1973, p. 169).

About the Author

Leigh Greenwood is the award-winning author of over fifty books, many of which have appeared on the USA Today bestseller list. Leigh lives in Charlotte, North Carolina. Please visit his website at
http://www.leigh-greenwood.com/
.