The Gatherers by Marla Fair – Chapter ten

ooooooooooo

"Thoughts are like arrows. Once released, they strike their mark. Guard them well or one day you may be your own victim."

Caroline halted in her pacing to look at the Indian woman. Winona was sitting on the floor with her back braced against the cabin wall. Her eyes were closed.

She'd thought she was asleep.

"What?"

The other woman opened her eyes. "The men are still there."

It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes. They haven't moved."

"Then why do you watch them?"

Caroline resisted huffing. "In case they do move."

Winona rose and came to stand beside her. "And what will you do if they choose to move?" she asked, a slight smile curling her lips.

"I…well, I…." She closed her mouth. What would she do? What could she do against a small army of armed men? There was only one rifle in the cabin and it was meant for shooting bears, not defending a homestead. Their ammunition was low. Caroline looked around the cabin. And her army? It consisted of one elderly blind man, a small girl, a weary Indian woman, and her.

A very frightened woman.

"I don't know," she admitted, "but I have to do something."

"You must trust the Creator," Winona said. "You must remember the days you prayed for the things you have now."

Caroline blushed. "You shame me," she said quietly.

"I do not mean it to be so. There is no shame in fear. Without fear, there can be no courage."

The blonde woman turned back to the window. "Fear," she repeated. "I am so afraid. Not for myself, but for Charles." She looked at the other woman. "And for you and all in this cabin."

"You would go to him, but you cannot. The Creator has decided this. You are here because you are meant to be here and nowhere else." Winona's smile was gentle. "As I am meant to be here."

Caroline returned it. "You can't be more than twenty-five. What makes you so wise?"

The native woman pulled the curtain back and looked out. Her dark eyes saw far beyond the gentle slopes covered with snow and the fires of the men who watched them.

"On the reservation there were many elders. Though I was young when they passed, I remember well the words they spoke. 'You must stand up in the storm, little one. You must face the wind and the cold and the darkness. When the storm blows hard you must stand firm, for it is not trying to knock you down. It is really trying to teach you to be strong.'"

"Those words are beautiful."

The Indian woman nodded. "The elders said as well that there is a battle of two wolves in us all. One wolf is evil. It is anger, jealousy, greed, and lies. The other wolf is joy, peace, love, kindness, and truth." She had been staring out the window. Now Winona looked directly at her. "The wolf that wins? It is the one you feed. These men, their food is greed. Even though we die, let our food be truth and love."

Caroline took the other woman's hand and squeezed it. "Yes. And thank you, for reminding me of what I already knew."

"Ma?"

The blonde woman started. She hadn't heard Laura rise, but turned now to find her child by the door. It was open a crack and the little girl was peeking out.

"Laura! What are you doing?"

"I was goin' to the privy, but…" There was a tremble in her voice. "…there's a man standin' beside it."

Caroline put a hand to the door and widened the crack. She caught a glimpse of a man's figure – tall, dressed a dark coat. He was leaning with his back to the door; his eyes locked on the cabin. The blonde woman pushed the door to and dropped the bar into place.

"You'll have to use the pot," she said, her voice breathless.

"It's awful full, Ma," Laura whined.

"We'll dump it out a window." As she said it, the vision of another man waiting outside the window flashed before her eyes. "You wait for me to do it!" she ordered. "I'll be there in a minute."

Her daughter sighed, but did as she was told and headed for the back of the cabin.

Winona was standing by the window when she returned. She had Sam Shelby's rifle in her hand.

The siege had begun.

oooooooooo

Ben Shelby gripped the bars of the cell he was locked in and rattled them. "You let me out of here! I ain't done nothin' wrong, I tell ya!"

He could see Alabaster Pettigrew through the door that opened onto the office. The sheriff was seated at his desk. Pettigrew raised his head and looked above the newspaper he held, and then went back to reading.

The skinner was just about as frustrated as a man could be. Here he was, sitting in jail on a trumped up charge while deceitful and cheatin' men were plottin' to steal his pa's land! He'd overheard Pettigrew talkin' to that rascal, Jake, and he said the circuit judge was due any day. There was no way Ben could be sure the judge wasn't on the take too, but he had hopes the man was honest.

If he wasn't, well then, that was that.

Sheriff Pettigrew was shrewd and mean as a snake. The other man what kept watch on him – Jake Florian – was just as mean, but it would be kind to call him pig-ignorant. The skinner had learned enough from listenin' to know that Jake was the sheriff's bully boy. It was Jake what did the dirty work, so Pettigrew could keep his nose clean. The sheriff was in and out all day, but it was Florian who guarded him at night.

So, night was when he planned to escape.

Ben rattled the door again in frustration, and then backed off and dropped onto the meager cot pushed up against the wall. He made a show – well, maybe not so much a show – of bein' mad by tossin' his pillow against the wall and lettin' out a few choice words that would have got his mouth washed out with soap when he was a young'un.

"Keep it down in there!" Pettigrew groused. "Can't you see I'm tryin' to read?"

Ben looked up. "What is it you're readin'?" he asked.

The sheriff folded the paper and laid it on the desk. "Land transfers. I was lookin' for your pa's name, but it ain't in there…yet."

The angry young man clasped his fingers, forming a fist. 'Not yet', he told himself, 'not now. Don't let him get your goat!'

"And it ain't gonna be, once I talk to that judge," he shot back.

Pettigrew rose and swaggered across the floor. He leaned on the wall and shook his head. "You gotta be thick as a brick if you think you're ever gonna talk to that judge."

"You gonna kill me?"

The sheriff snorted. "Don't have to. Just have to keep you locked up here 'til he leaves town. Once he rules, there ain't nothin' you or that old man of yours can do but pack up your things and move."

Ben rose and came close. "How long ago did Greeley buy you?"

Pettigrew glared at him. "Ain't no one owns me."

The skinner snorted. "You just keep on tellin' yourself that. One day you might believe it."

"I got the keys, Shelby," the sheriff threatened. "I can come in there any time, and ain't no one gonna question what happens."

"Was there a time, I wonder," Ben asked, "when the law meant somethin' to you? When seein' justice done was worth more than a wad of bank notes in your pocket? A time before you became a no-good cheatin' liar and thief?"

The key was in the lock when the sheriff started laughing. "Good try." The crooked lawman took the key out and placed it back in his pocket. "But not good enough."

Ben shrugged. "A man's gotta try."

"You don't know nothin' about me," Pettigrew scoffed as he returned to the office and his desk.

He knew enough.

Enough to know that if that ruse had almost worked on shrewd Alabaster Pettigrew, it would most certainly work on stupid Jake Florian.

And he would be free.

oooooooooo

Laura was at the front window. Her ma had told her to stay away from it –but not ordered her to – so there was wiggle room. Ma was busy tending Mr. Shelby and she was just dyin' to know if those awful men were still out there. They reminded her of turkey buzzards sitting in a row on the top of the barn, keeping watch for some poor animal to die.

The little girl shuddered.

She'd asked her ma what the men were doing out there and all her mother would say was 'keeping watch'. Ma, of course, didn't know she'd hear what Winona said – that the 'siege' had begun. She knew enough from history books to know what that meant. They'd studied the Crusades. Well, Mary had and she'd been listening. So the one that came to mind was the Siege of Jerusalem in ten ninety-nine or nine-ninety-nine, or something like that. It was awful. Thousands of people died. Before they did, they were trapped inside so they couldn't get any food or water and stuff like that. The idea of a siege was to make the people inside the fort or house or whatever hungry and thirsty enough that they would surrender and come out with their hands up.

Laura stood on tiptoe and looked out. She was careful not to disturb the curtain. The snow had stopped falling, though a six inch blanket of the white stuff covered the ground. There was frost on the window too, so it was really cold out there. The men beyond Mr. Shelby's fence had a couple of fires going. Their smoke trailed up into the air. That meant two things. First of all, they weren't going anywhere soon,

And second of all, they weren't afraid of someone knowing they were there.

Night was falling. It was that time of day poets liked to call 'dusk' or 'eventide'. One of their neighbors called it 'gloaming'. He was Scottish. Ma most often said 'candle lighting time' and that's the one Laura liked because candles meant you got to stay up late and they brought warmth and light. 'Twilight' was kind of scary, 'cause it made her think of All Hallows Eve.

The men outside were scary too.

Unexpectedly, Laura sensed someone behind her.

'Now, I'm for it!' she thought.

A tanned hand reached out to draw the curtain back. After a moment, Winona said, "There are fewer of them."

Laura counted. One. Two. Three. Four. Only four. There had been at least six men and maybe more, or so Ma said.

"Where do you think they went?"

"Maybe to find food. Maybe to report to the one who owns them." As the Indian woman continued to watch, a wicked smile curled her lips. "Or, perhaps, to meet the Creator."

She frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

"The man by the fire, what is he doing?"

The little girl looked. "Pacing, like Pa does when he's got a problem." Mention of her father made her wince.

"Just so. And the man near his horse?"

She looked. That man was holding a rifle and turning in a circle, looking all around.

"He seems kind of nervous."

One of the men was crouched by the fire, reaching for a coffee pot. Matt Sparks stood beside him. His hand rested on the pistol he wore at his hip.

"Your father is a hunter. Has he taught you the signs of the hunted as well?

Laura blanched. "Ma doesn't hold with a girl huntin'. I went with Pa once, but…." She shook her head.

The Indian woman turned to look at her. "Perhaps one day you will honor me with the story. Still, even if you do not hunt, you must learn the ways of the hunters' prey, must you not?"

"I've helped Pa set traps. He's taught me about sign and that sort of thing."

Winona nodded. "When an animal feels it is in danger, its senses are heightened – eyes, ears, even skin sense that death is waiting."

"You mean like when a mouse smells a cat and it just stops and goes kind of rigid? Sometimes it will stand up on its back legs and squeak?"

"Yes." The Indian woman pointed. "Look."

It was getting really dark, so it was hard to see what she was pointing at. All four men were close together now and standing back to back.

"And listen," Winona added.

Laura frowned at the Indian woman. Then she heard it – a high-pitched bird call. Kik-kik-kik. She wasn't familiar with it, but it sounded like a hawk, or maybe a falcon.

"What's that?" her mother asked, breathless.

Laura turned to look at the older woman who had come up behind them. Her mother was staring out the window and not at her. So, maybe being with Winona made being by the window okay.

Whew!

Winona turned to her mother and smiled.

"The end of the siege."

oooooooooo

Caroline had retreated to the stove and was cooking up another pot of soup for Sam Shelby; this time with meat and dried vegetables. The older man was much better, though still confined to his bed for most of the day. She wondered as she stirred the boiling liquid, what had become of Ben and whether it might have been him making the bird calls. Winona refused to explain. All the Indian woman said was 'wait'. Then she went to a corner, laid down, and went to sleep as if there was nothing more to be concerned about.

The blonde woman blew out a breath as she tucked an unruly lock of hair behind her ear. Night had come and it was pitch black outside the cabin windows. Laura was sitting with Ben's father, reading out of the Bible to him. She'd tried to sit in the chair by the bed to listen, but was consumed with a nervous energy. It was either pace or cook - and she chose to cook!

At least, that way, she was doing something constructive.

While she stirred the soup, Caroline's thoughts flew back to Walnut Grove, to her other two daughters. She knew Mary and Carrie were safe at the Edwards'. She hoped they weren't too worried. Charles told Isaiah as they left that he expected – between travel and their stay – that they would be gone a week.

It was close to that now and promised to be longer.

Of course, from Mary and Carrie, her mind moved on to the man she loved. Dawn would mark the beginning of the fourth day since Charles had left. The length of time alone would have been enough cause for concern, but then there were Winona's words. When she closed eyes, the worried woman could see it even though she had never been to Avalanche. A narrow path at the top of the high ridge. Her husband moving forward. And then –

Caroline's breath caught. She made a small strangled noise.

And then, her husband falling.

Laura had refused to tell her how just high Avalanche was. As had Sam Shelby. Still, she could tell by the look on their faces – especially the older man's – that it would be God's grace alone that would save Charles from certain death.

"Is the soup ready yet, Ma? Mr. Shelby's hungry."

The worried woman looked down. Laura's little face was upturned toward her.

"Almost," she replied. "The vegetables are still a bit hard. They need to –"

There it was again. That sound!

Kik-kik-kik.

"That bird sure must like us," Laura said.

'Or be following us,' she thought with a twinge of fear.

"Do not be afraid," Winona said as she rose from her makeshift bed and headed for the door. Once there, she lifted the bar. Looking at directly at them, she repeated, "Do not be afraid."

Caroline's hand went to her throat as the door opened and a tall Indian man swathed in a buffalo robe stepped in. Several feathers decorated his long, dark, braided tresses, intermixed with silver ornaments and beads. Beneath the robe she could see the tail end of a buckskin shirt. Below that, he wore winter leggings tucked into a pair of fur-lined moccasin boots. The blonde woman took an instinctive step toward Laura and gathered the little girl in her arms.

"I heard the door open!" Sam Shelby called from his bed. "Who's there? You tell me or I'm a comin' to see!"

Laura giggled, in spite of everything. Apparently, she found the idea of Sam 'seeing' anything funny.

"Do not fear, old man!" Winona called out. "It is Chayton, my brother."

Caroline blinked. This was one of the men who were supposed to be looking for Charles. It was out of her mouth before she could stop it.

"What are you doing here?"

Chayton's dark eyes fastened on her. He frowned before saying a few words to Winona.

"My brother speaks very little of your tongue," Winona explained. The pair talked for a minute before the Indian woman turned back to her. "He says Mato, along with a few of their band, is seeking your husband." Winona rolled her dark eyes. "Chayton insisted on following me. He did not believe a woman could succeed against Marcus Greeley's men." Her brother said something that made her turn back toward him. Winona glared, and then laughed. "Now he says different. Chayton says he was more afraid for the white men than me!"

"What happened to those men?" Laura asked. "Where have they gone?"

Caroline gripped her daughter's shoulder. She knew of the ways of the Indian. Most likely, the men were dead – or worse.

Chayton seemed to guess her thoughts. "No kill," he said in English, and then followed it up with more words in the Sioux language.

"This house is now under the protection of our people," Winona said. "The white men will not bother you again."

"Bother us?" Caroline asked. "What about you?"

"It is time for me to go. I will return with my brother and we will search for Mister Ingalls."

"Take me with you!" Laura pleaded.

Winona responded before she could. The native woman shook her head. "You cannot travel as we do."

"I can! I did it before!" Laura declared, turning in her arms. "Ma, you gotta let me go! You know I can do it!"

"Certainly not!" she responded.

"But I did it before!" Her daughter broke free and crossed over to where Sam Shelby lay, listening to everything. "You tell her, Mr. Shelby. I can do it! Can't I?"

"Child," he said softly. "It's too dangerous in the snow…."

"It was dangerous before. Only this time I don't need you to go. Winona and her brother know the way." The child was back in a flash. She stopped directly in front of the pair of natives. "Can I go?"

"So," Winona said, "this is the story you would not give me. You have crossed Avalanche before?"

Laura nodded. "I went all the way to the road-head. I had to go or my pa would have died! He was bleedin' bad and we couldn't get it stopped. Pa needed a doctor! I had to find Mr. Edwards so he could go fetch one."

"And Sam Shelby?"

"I didn't know the way. I was his eyes and he, well, he had a map in his head." Laura stood up straight. "We went all the way there by ourselves. I did it once and I can do it again!"

Caroline opened her mouth to declare that – uncategorically – she would do no such thing! Then, she heard Charles voice in her head. They'd talked into the wee hours of the morning as they lay in bed together the night before they began their journey to Sam Shelby's.

'It's like Laura's got a movin' picture book in her head, and she can't move off the page she's on – the one where I was shot. She needs this, so she can move on.'

"In my tribe, one such as this is almost a woman," Winona said, sensing her dismay.

"In our 'tribe', Laura is a child."

"Ma…."

"Hush!" she said.

Chayton motioned to his sister and said something to her. He pointed to the necklace she wore. It was the one she had given to Charles. She nodded, and then drew it off her neck and handed it to Laura.

"Mato will keep her safe until we return," Winona said – as if that said everything.

Laura was staring at the bear claw necklace. Her child had had one before, when they lived in Kansas – perhaps she had it still, safely tucked away in their new home. The man who gave it to her had said much the same thing.

Of course, it was nonsense.

Caroline was pretty sure it was nonsense.

The little girl looked up at her; tears in her eyes. "Ma, please. Can I go? Pa needs me."

Caroline sighed.

What could she say to that?

But…yes.

oooooooooo

to be continued….