A Stop at Flowers'

That Saturday, I decided we would go into Virginia City to get some supplies as I didn't want to keep relying on the Ponderosa; it might also keep the Bannocks away if our larder was full, that is if they were only being helpful and not courting Kopakashe. I would let Kopakashe choose some dresses for wear about the house if she wanted. Perhaps even shoes. But I worried; could I convey the idea of new clothes and shoes without making her feel her Shoshone items were shameful or even embarrassing?

I hitched up the horses and brought the buckboard around the front. At the noise, Kopakashe came out. I'm not positive but I think she may have asked me what the hell was I thinking? Did I believe she would want to go anywhere, especially if it was the Ponderosa, even if it was with me?

"C'mon," I said, pressing on the brake and jumping down. "We're going into town." She backed up, shaking her head and made herself very clear when she said 'Pond'rosa' and spat on the ground.

I had to grin at that. "I know you don't want to go there and we're not. No Ponderosa." I swung one hand over the other, my palms flat. "No Ponderosa. Virginia City. How about that?"

She stared at me and I couldn't help thinking how absolutely lovely she looked in the morning light with her long dark hair tied at the nape of her neck and wearing a lighter, almost white, buckskin dress. It was as if she knew I wanted to take her somewhere and had put on her best. The dress had short fringes in an arc above her breasts with beadwork above that. "Virginia City. We'll go to Virginia City and I'll buy you whatever you want—diamonds, rubies, silks and satins."

Kopakashe said a few more things, using her hands to indicate she wasn't going to put up with any nonsense, at least that was the message I received. The young, fearful, shy girl was gone and this strong woman standing ramrod-straight in front of me, her mouth set, had taken her place. And she was my wife.

We rode in silence but it wasn't an angry silence. We had nothing to discuss but it seemed she was fine with that. And when I thought about it, most of our nights together were spent in easy silence, with me sitting at the table repairing a bridle or some small item, or reading but sometimes, I strummed my guitar. If I sang, Kopakashe sat across from me, watching my mouth and listening. I would finish one song and she would ask for another and I would happily comply. It was while singing "Cindy" for the third night in a row, that she joined in, awkwardly singing the words in the refrain. I couldn't help but laugh and she clapped her hands together in delight but with a blush in her cheeks.

I had even tried reading aloud, hoping she would be interested, but Kopakashe wasn't; she paid me no mind, just worked on scraping the skin of the rabbit we'd eaten. I supposed she intended to make something of it. I hadn't much experience with tanning hides but it wouldn't surprise me if she could teach me a thing or two about it.

As we came to the turn-off for the Ponderosa, out of the corner of my eye, I could see Kopakashe was watching me, her hands gripping the seat edge. I think she would have jumped out had I turned off that way but once I continued on the well-worn road to town, she relaxed a little although had she known what lay ahead, well, she would have demanded I return back to our shack.

I drove the buckboard down main street and people walking along the sidewalks glanced at us and the n'er-do-wells sitting in front of Flowers General Store, shifted in their seats a bit when I stopped the buckboard out front. I jumped down and went about to lift Kopakashe down and heard a mumble of "Damn Injun bitch." My stomach knotted but I chose to ignore the comment and taking my wife by the arm, steered her past them and into the store. They could all go to hell.

Mrs. Flowers was behind the counter. I knew by her frozen smile that she was uncomfortable upon seeing Kopakashe with me. Another woman inside with a small boy, looked over at us and taking him by the hand, pulled him toward the door. "But, Ma! You said I could have some candy!" he protested but she only told him to hush his mouth.

"Morning, Mrs. Flowers." I tipped my hat and smiled. She had once been an attractive woman but had thickened about the middle more than most and her hair was rapidly being overtaken with gray, her face showing years of worry and work.

"Morning, Mr. Cartwright." Usually, she called me Adam since she's known me since a boy. She used to always give me a licorice whip when my father would bring me in to buy supplies, but this morning she was different and even though she was speaking to me, she was watching Kopakashe who was looking through the top glass of the counter holding expensive items such as knives. Then her eyes came back to me, her face in a stiff smile. "What can I help you with?"

"I don't believe you've met my wife, Kopakashe." Kopakashe stepped back to me and I slipped an arm about her waist. "This is Mrs. Cartwright. Kopakashe, Mrs. Flowers."

Mrs. Flowers continued to smile and nodded, "Morning…Mrs. Cartwright. Good to meet you."

"She doesn't understand much English," I explained, "but she does understand kindness." Mrs. Flowers just smiled. The bell over the front door jangled. I didn't look to see who had entered but judging by the look on her face, Mrs. Flowers recognized trouble when she saw it.

"Perhaps if you left me a list," Mrs. Flowers nervously said, "I could fill it and you could pick it up later."

I heard bootheels of more than one person approach the counter and my stomach fell. I didn't want any trouble and I certainly didn't want to bring any down on Mrs. Flowers. "Just a moment, Adam, let me get a crate for the things you might order."

I hadn't given her any idea of how many "things" I would need but by the panicked look in her eye, I knew what she wanted. Mrs. Flowers rushed to the curtain that separated the storage area from the front store, pulled it aside and called, "August! August, come out front. We have more customers than I can handle…and bring a crate for Adam Cartwright's purchases." Then she came back to me, the same stiff smile on her face. When she spoke, her lips almost curled back like a cornered feral beast; she was afraid. "Please, Adam…what do you need?"

August Flowers came out, wiping his hands on his apron, his brow furrowed but when he saw what was going on, he stopped, his mouth dropped open and he seemed unsure what to do. He was a middle-aged man with a high belly that strained the apron tied about his middle and was no match for the two men leaning on the counter; men like them are like wild dogs—they always run in packs. But August Flowers walked around his wife to address the men standing on the other side of me. I still hadn't looked at them, but I gripped Kopakashe's arm. She knew there was something wrong or something was going to be wrong because she whispered, "Ad-am?" I looked at her and gave what I hoped passed as a comforting smile.

"Can I help you?" Mr. Flowers asked the men. His voice quavered. Even a terrified man tries his best to seem brave, but Mr. Flowers couldn't instill fear in anyone or fool anyone. He was just a storekeeper trying to make a living.

"That depends…," one said. "If you sell to Injuns, no, there ain't nothin' you can do for us 'cept get rid of the smell in here. Damn that stink is bad!" The other man chuckled.

Mrs. Flowers looked as if she would cry. "It's all right, Mrs. Flowers," I said. "We can come back…" But the bell jangled again and I heard Roy Coffee's voice, as welcome as that of a ministering angel.

"I thought that was a Cartwright buckboard." I turned and he walked over to us, tipping his hat at Mrs. Flowers who looked more grateful than I ever thought I'd see anyone look.

I released Kopakashe's arm but she stayed close to me; I could only imagine what she was thinking, feeling.

"Morning, Roy. I was just picking up some supplies."

Roy tipped his hat at Kopakashe with a "Mrs. Cartwright." Roy had been a lawman long enough to have a sixth sense as far as trouble was concerned. "Everything okay?" he asked, looking about.

One of the two men eyed Coffee's tin and said, "Everything's just fine, Sheriff." Then to August Flowers, he said. "Gimme a plug of t'bacco."

"That'll be fifteen cents," August Flowers said, placing the package on the counter.

"Fifteen cents! Hell, this better be the best chewin' t'bacco in the whole territory." He slapped the coins on the counter after pulling a few from his pocket and counting them. Then he elbowed the other man and they both walked out. I could feel more than see Mrs. Flowers' relief.

"They give you any trouble, Mrs. Flowers?" Roy asked. He looked again from August to his wife.

"No, no…just…I was worried…" she said.

"She was worried they were going to cause trouble with me, Roy," I said.

"Yeah? Well, wouldn't surprise me none if they did. Well, don't let me interrupt your business, Adam, Mrs. Flowers. Just wanted to say hello. Haven't seen your Pa in a while. How's he been?"

"Working harder than he should."

Roy smiled. "And I heard about your…marriage; Hoss stopped by midweek; sat and talked a while in my office. I suppose congratulations are due. Congratulations."

"Thank you, Roy. I'd introduce you but I imagine you remember Kopakashe." I slipped my arm about her waist again and pulled her forward a bit but she lowered her eyes and only glanced up at him through her lashes.

"Yes, I remember." Roy smiled, his eyes practically twinkling but then a pretty face affects not only a young man but an older one as well; gets the blood coursing. But more than likely he was remembering how Kopakashe had jammed the broken whiskey bottle into the cowboy's face, lacerating his cheek. 'Well, tell your pa hello for me and to stop by so his old friends won't worry about him."

"I will, Roy."

"And, Adam, I really do wish you two the best but, well, next time you come into town, stop by my office and let me know. I'd like to keep an eye out, just to make sure trouble doesn't come your way."

"Now, Roy, I think I can handle a little trouble."

"No, Adam. I don't think you can. Not this trouble. A man came through a few days ago, regaling everyone with a horror tale about some renegade Paiutes burnin' down a homestead a few miles west of Elko, that is after they did some unspeakable things to the family. I don't know if it was true or not, but if it was, it was probably only a passing hunting party, as the Army isn't on the move; I would've been notified about anything like that. But some of the men are riled; doesn't take much—just say Paiute or Apache and they're going for their guns. You know that old Bannock woman who sold beads and all that?"

"What do you mean, 'sold'?"

Roy dropped his voice and leaned in. "Well, two days ago, three men upturned her basket, ripped apart the beads scatterin' 'em all over the sidewalk, and threatened her with a knife, said they were going to slit her throat from ear to ear and cut off her tits and then give her another slit for her man to enjoy. Ugly stuff and I don't know if she understood what they said or not but she hasn't been back and I don't think she will be. Old Red Hanley who was in his usual seat outside the saloon heard them and came rushing to tell me about it. They were drunk of course, just two cow hands passing through, but I arrested them, made 'em each give her the money in their pockets, not more'n three dollars together, and threw 'em in a cell to sleep it off. Told them to leave Virginia City and never come back, but with your little wife," and he nodded toward Kopakashe," you need to keep both eyes open during the day and sleep with one open at night. Better yet, you should move her to the Ponderosa. Just to be safe."

I was glad Kopakashe didn't understand English. "Thanks, Roy. I'll consider your advice."

"Well, since I'm here," Roy said and turned to the counter, raising his voice, "August, I need some coffee? 'Bout a pound ought to hold me awhile and give me half a pound of sugar too." He looked at me and smiled. "Sometimes I like a little sweetnin' in my coffee."

Mrs. Flowers was still standing at the counter, waiting for me. She smiled but looked more as if she would cry. I suppose she feared the men would come back after we'd gone and destroy the place or in the morning light, they'd see "Injun lover" scrawled on the wall and their front window smashed. Or something worse. "Mrs. Flowers, I'll make it quick. First, do you have any little dress or skirt and blouse, anything that might fit my wife? Just something around the house to wear for chores or such? And give us a pound of coffee as well—grind it, will you?"

"Of course, but it'll cost more that way."

"That's fine," I said. "And before you go search through the women's clothing, we need a sack of flour, some cornmeal…." I rattled off all the things I intended to buy making it a point to use "we," but my mind was elsewhere, worrying about what Roy had told me. How long before everyone in town knew Kopakashe and I were there in that line shack and someone decided to end the local "Indian" problem with their own cruel hands.