Westward Hearts (40 page)

“But,
Ma
.”

“Let me handle this, JT.”

Her knees were trembling as she climbed down and began to walk directly toward the party of Indians. As she walked she silently prayed, begging God to help her and JT. Then as she got closer to the Indians, to her astonishment, she noticed a yellow dog running alongside the horses.

“Flax!” she cried out.

In that same instant, JT had jumped down from the wagon and was bounding straight for their dog. Elizabeth gasped to see one of the Indians lifting up a bow, slipping in an arrow and taking aim.

“Stop!” she screamed just as JT and Flax united in a happy scuffle on the ground. She wasn’t sure if she was talking to JT or the warrior, but she kept her eyes pinned on the shirtless Indian with the drawn bow, the arrow still aimed at her son. Then taking a deep breath, she continued to walk calmly toward the Indians, strategically placing herself between the warrior and her son.

“You found our dog,” she said slowly and as pleasantly as if she were speaking to a neighbor. “Thank you so much.” She continued to stand between the Indians and JT, wondering what she should do next. If only she could give them something to show her gratitude for returning the dog—although she seriously doubted that was what they were doing. The Indian with the raised bow seemed proof of this.

A breeze wafted past, causing her to notice something red dangling from her coat pocket. Ruth’s hair ribbon. She’d asked Elizabeth to tie a bow into her hair this morning, but they’d gotten too busy. Now Elizabeth slowly pulled the ribbon out, allowing the length of it to flutter in the breeze. Then, continuing to walk toward the Indians, she held the scarlet ribbon before her, almost like a truce flag.

She was only a few feet away from them when someone spoke out. Surprised that it sounded like a female voice, Elizabeth peered past some of the men to spy a young woman seated on a horse. Holding a young child in front of her, she appeared to be addressing the Indian still wielding the raised bow. She was speaking passionately in quick, unintelligible words. Then suddenly, to Elizabeth’s surprise, the brave lowered his bow and actually laughed, almost as if the woman had told him something funny.

Now, just standing there and wondering what to do next, Elizabeth locked eyes with the young woman for a long moment. Was it her imagination, or did she see compassion in this woman’s eyes? Then, with the red ribbon still fluttering in her hand, Elizabeth continued to slowly approach the man with the bow. She held the bright shiny ribbon up to him.

“Thank you,” she told him. Then she nodded back to where JT and Flax were still behind her. “That’s our dog. Thank you.”

The brave looked at the ribbon still fluttering in her hand and then over to JT and Flax. And then, almost as if he understood, he slipped his bow and arrow behind his back and reached down to take the ribbon. In a swift movement, he wrapped it around his wrist several times, securing it like a bracelet. And then he held it up and nodded with satisfaction.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said again, slowly backing away and hoping that the party would continue on their way.

But the Indians remained put. And now they were talking among themselves, almost as if they were arguing. She imagined that some of them were suggesting they should kill both her and JT, burn their wagon, steal the horses, and run. And perhaps some of them, like the woman, were saying, “Let them be.” She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she wanted to get JT out of harm’s way.

“Come on, son,” she calmly told him. “Get Flax and yourself into the back of the wagon, and I’m going to drive—fast.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Seated in the wagon, she had just put her hand on the brake when she saw the Indians were moving too—directly toward the wagon. As tempted as she felt, she knew it would be futile to reach for the gun. She’d seen how quickly the one brave had nocked his arrow and taken aim. Surely the others could do the same. They were only about ten feet away when the woman yelled something, this time to a different man. And now he rode his horse right up to her wagon.

With his eyes on her, the brave reached behind him. Elizabeth took in a quick breath, expecting another drawn bow to appear. Instead, he pulled out something reddish brown and about the size of a water bucket. Then, with a loud thump, he dropped it in the dirt right next to her wagon. And with no further ado, all of the Indians eased past the wagon and continued south without looking back. Elizabeth watched in astonishment as the group traveled gracefully across the prairie, getting smaller and smaller.

“What happened, Ma?” JT stuck his head out from the covered wagon. “What did they do?”

“They dropped something,” she told him, cautiously climbing down to see what it was. “It’s a big piece of meat.” She bent down to pick up what felt like a ten-pound roast or better.

“They gave us meat?” JT asked in wonder.

“I’m guessing it must be buffalo.” Still feeling shocked, she placed the meat inside the game box beneath the water reservoir. Then she climbed back into the wagon and tightened the straps on her driving gloves. Releasing the brake, she flicked the reins and yelled, “Gid’up!” to the team. “We’ve got to catch up with the wagon train,” she told JT. “Before your grandpa sends out a search party.”

“The Indians gave us meat?” JT said again.

“They did.” She slowly shook her head, still trying to figure the mystery out for herself. What a strange encounter.

It wasn’t until they were in sight of the wagon train and steadily gaining on them that she said what was on her mind. “JT, I don’t think we should tell your grandpa about what happened back there.”

“You want me to lie to Grandpa?”

“No, no, of course not. I’m just not sure I want him to know everything. I’m afraid it would worry him unnecessarily.” She gave JT a sheepish smile. “Also, he’d know that I messed up.”

“You didn’t mess up, Ma.”

“I didn’t do as he told me, JT. I never should have let the wagon train out of sight like that.”

“It was my fault, Ma.”

“But I’m in charge,” she reminded him. “I should have known better.”

“But you were great, Ma.” JT’s eyes shone with pride. “You handled everything just right with those Indians.”

She shook her head. “No, JT. I got lucky. Or more’n likely, God was helping us. But the fact of the matter is, we were where we shouldn’t have been. It could have turned out so much worse.” She shuddered to remember the sight of that drawn bow and the razor-sharp arrow.

“But it didn’t, Ma.” He laughed nervously. “Not only did the Indians bring Flax back to us, they gave us
meat
too.”

She felt perplexed. “Why did they do that…I wonder?”

“Was it because you gave them Ruth’s ribbon?”

“It was all I could think of to give them… to thank them for Flax.”

“Maybe they thought we were poor and starving,” he said.

Elizabeth looked down at her worn-out barn jacket and sighed. “I suppose it might look like that. But what about our horses…our livestock?”

“Maybe it was because we were out here by ourselves,” JT continued. “Without a man. Maybe they thought we were all on our own, Ma.”

“Maybe so…” She nodded as she remembered the look in the woman’s eyes. It had felt like compassion… or pity. “Maybe they felt sorry for us.” Whatever it was, she felt certain of one thing—she did not intend to put herself in that situation again.

S
omehow Elizabeth convinced JT not to repeat their strange story to Grandpa or anyone else in their family. She knew he was bursting to tell someone, but she also knew that his respect for her had grown some during that strange encounter. And that was reassuring in itself, especially because he seemed so bound and determined to become a man on this journey. It was a comfort to know that his mother still wielded some influence over him, even if only temporarily. As for the meat, Elizabeth had simply told her mother that one of their neighbors had donated it to them. Then, to avoid further questioning, she told Clara she needed to hurry. “I promised Ruth we’d go berry gathering before it’s time to help with supper.”

“Someone on this train is a good hunter.” Clara nodded with approval as she rinsed off the dust-coated meat. “Mighty good hunter.”

In the next couple of days, Elizabeth continued to wonder about the incident with the Indians. She even wrote about it in her journal in hopes of understanding it better. By now she suspected the group had been a hunting party, not a war party, as she’d originally assumed. After all, why would a woman and child travel in a war party? Yet it also seemed strange that a woman and child would travel in a hunting party. Or that a woman would have as much influence as that young woman seemed to have. Perhaps she was related to a chief. Even so, Elizabeth still couldn’t understand the unexpected gift of meat, which turned out to be bison. They could have easily killed Elizabeth and JT and stolen their valuable livestock. Instead, they gifted them with the meat. Why would they do that?

By Friday, and thanks to the impending wedding the following day, Elizabeth put her ponderings over the Indian incident behind her. Now her most demanding task was to get the last of the wedding dress pieces sewn together, which was why JT was driving and she was sewing. Meanwhile, Ruth and the Bostonian girls were collecting as many wildflowers as possible. And everyone in their unit was looking forward to the next day’s celebration.

By the end of the traveling day, Elizabeth was nearly done. With most of the gown carefully protected in a linen sheet, she was just stitching the last sleeve into the bodice when the wagons stopped. She didn’t even look up as JT got the wagon into place for the night. Instead, she focused on her stitches. She wanted every seam in this gown to be secure enough to endure all the dancing that was sure to follow the wedding.

And so she remained in the wagon seat while Brady and JT proceeded to unharness the team, taking them over to the picket line for the night. JT joked to Brady that she had accidentally sewn herself to the wagon seat and would be sleeping there tonight. Brady chuckled and promised to come back to help free her if she needed it.

“Tell Grandma I’m finishing up here,” she told JT as they were leading the team over to the picket line. “I’ll be over to help her with supper as soon as I’m done with this.” She threaded the needle for what she hoped was the final time, pulling a good length of white thread out and then cutting it with her teeth before she tied a knot.

“Evening, Elizabeth.”

Surprised, she looked up to see Eli, seated on his horse, looking directly at her with a curious expression. “Oh, hello,” she said.

“Did you not notice that your wagon has stopped and that you’re in camp now?”

She gave him a tolerant smile. “Yes, I had noticed.” She held up her sewing. “But the wedding is tomorrow, and this is the bride’s dress.”

He nodded with what seemed appreciation. “You are indeed a woman of many talents.”

“What?” She peered up at him, but feeling uneasy for the way her heart fluttered with interest, she turned back to her stitching and promptly stabbed her finger with the needle. Without flinching, she put her finger to her lips, thankful the blood hadn’t spotted the gown.

“JT told me about your encounter with the Pawnees the other day.”

She considered denying the whole thing. However, if JT had told him, there seemed little point. “How did you know they were Pawnees?” she asked.

“He described them to me. That boy’s got a good eye for detail.”

She frowned at him. “He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone in the family.”

Eli smiled with amusement. “So I’m in the family now?”

She pressed her lips together, sticking the needle safely into the cloth this time and then looking evenly at him. “I’m sure you think I was very foolish to put myself in that position—”

“Not at all,” he said easily. “According to JT, you handled yourself in the best way possible…especially considering the circumstances.”

“The circumstances?”

He made a half smile now. “Well, being that you put yourself into a dangerous position.”

“But I thought you said the Indians were peaceful.”

He shrugged. “It seemed that would be true…for you anyway, and at least for that one instance.”

“So what are you really saying?” she challenged.

“You were fortunate, Elizabeth.”

“I know.” She nodded sheepishly.

“I’m sure you learned a valuable lesson.”

She nodded again. “Did JT tell you about the warrior—or maybe he was a hunter…” She lowered her voice. “Anyway, did JT tell you about the brave who drew his bow at him?”

Eli nodded with a somber expression. “But he said that was only after JT had jumped from the wagon and started running at them. I’m sure they were simply being defensive.”

“They perceived a twelve-year-old boy as a threat?”

“Anyone can be a threat, Elizabeth.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true. And JT does know how to shoot.”

“But I do commend you on not reaching for a firearm in the heat of the moment. That’s what some unfortunate emigrants have done. I’m fairly certain that if you’d done that…well, both you and JT and even your dog probably wouldn’t be with us now.”