Charlie's Choice

by Zina Abbott

  Charlie’s back stiffened when he heard the swish of the leather curtain that separated the storage area from the main store. He slowly turned to face his father who stood in the doorway, each forearm resting against the doorjamb.

  Owen Jones cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. “This is regarding a woman, is it?”

  His breath still heaving, Charlie folded his arms and tucked his chin towards his chest while he glared at the man from whom he had inherited his gray eyes. Sometimes he felt resentful that his father, a white man, also knew the Kaw language. He turned his gaze away and responded in English. “Yes. It’s my own fault. I should have known better.”

  Owen dropped his arms to his sides and stepped into the room. “What should you have known better? Is this about Malinda Campbell?”

  “Yes. More to the point, it’s about her father, burly old goat.” The slur that followed, uttered in Kaw, Charlie knew one did not repeat in polite company.

  Charlie watched Owen run his fingers through his dark brown hair, pulling part of it loose from his queue. Owen studied his son with his distinctive gray eyes—eye color his two oldest sons had inherited from him. “Aye, well, the man lost a lot of his people to wars with the Cherokees and Shawnees before he came here. He’s blind when it comes to seeing the differences in tribes.” He stepped into the room and folded his arms. “My son, you will need to accept the fact the world is full of men like Fergus Campbell—men who hate those not like them. They hate what they don’t understand. If you let people like him eat at you, it will consume you.”

  Charlie expressed his distain with a dismissive jerk of his hand. “Fergus Campbell means nothing to me. He is less than the dust of the earth.”

  “Aye, but that’s not your feelings about the young Miss Campbell. You’ve had your eye on her for some months now. Unless I miss my guess, she feels the same about you.”

  Charlie stilled in place, and stared at the far wall as he waited for his father’s next words.

  Seeing he had his son’s attention, Owen kept his voice casual. “No doubt her father has figured it out, too. You can’t blame a man for being protective of his daughter.”

  With a violent shake of his head, Charlie turned to look his father in the eye. “It’s more than that. I posed no threat to her. I happened to be walking behind the Campbell place…”

  A knowing grin spread across Owen’s face. “Just happened to be, were you?”

  Charlie glared at his father and raised his voice. “Yes. I happened to be walking by, and Malinda was harvesting some early peas. I caught her eye and waved to her. She was the one who hurried over to greet me. We spoke for a couple of minutes before Campbell ran out his back door like a swarm of hornets chased him. He called to Malinda and ordered her into the house. Like a dutiful daughter she obeyed. I thought that was the end of it, but he kept coming. I didn’t know what he intended—maybe to fight me—but I refused to run. Even though he’s a big man, I turned to face him.”

  “Glad to know you stood to meet him. Don’t have that much against him other than he thinks too highly of himself. From the looks of you, there wasn’t much of a fight.”

  Encouraged by his father’s approval, Charlie continued his tale. “He didn’t physically attack me, or he would have ended up with my knife in his gut. It’s what he said.”

  Owen sighed in resignation. “I can just about imagine. I’ve known for years you were going to run up against this kind of thing.”

  Charlie narrowed his eyes with suspicion as he studied his father. “What are you saying? You already knew Fergus Campbell refuses me for his daughter, that he wants me to stay away from her? It’s not like he’s some grand lord. He’s as dirt poor as anyone else with his patch of land and meager cabin he barely keeps together by picking up laboring jobs where he can. On the other hand, I’m the son of an established merchant. This may have started out as a trading post bartering mostly with the local tribes, but it’s bigger than that now. There is enough for all of us, even my brothers when they are grown.” Charlie paused, then his voice softened with uncertainty. “What has he told you?”

  “Nothing. I just know about men like Fergus Campbell. I’m more interested in what he told you.”

  Charlie huffed in frustration. “About what you’d suspect. It’s not like it’s the first time someone has thrown my Kaw blood in my face. He minced no words in telling me his daughter’s no squaw, and he’d not allow her to take up with some half-breed, no matter who my father is.”

  “The man’s mean-spirited. I wouldn’t take what he says to heart.”

  The sound of men talking in the public room of the trading post alerted the pair customers entered the store. Owen shook his head and pointed to the pile near his son’s feet. “I need to go out front, Charlie. Re-stack those pelts over in the far corner by grade and break open those two crates next to them to sort. We’ll continue this when I’m done with whoever is out front.”

  Charlie called out towards his father’s retreating back. “He said I’m a bastard.”

  Charlie watched his father halt in place and arch his back. Owen twisted around to face his son, his voice reflecting a quiet empathy. “It doesn’t pay to get riled at every slur tossed your way, especially when they come from the likes of Fergus Campbell.”

  Charlie closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply. “He didn’t say it as an insult, Pa. He spoke it as a statement of fact—because my mother was Kansa.”

  Owen glanced at the hide curtain separating the two rooms and turned back. “I need to go take care of customers, Charlie. Stay here. Once I’m free, we’ll talk.”

  While Charlie worked on his tasks, his anger simmered. He thought over the words that had passed between him and Fergus Campbell—mostly the disrespectful words Malinda’s father had directed towards him while he had maintained his stoic mien, refusing to look or walk away, forcing Campbell to be the first to turn his back. Yes, after listening to the litany of Campbell’s complaints, Charlie had more than one question he expected his father to answer.

  Charlie dropped the stack of dry goods he held on top of a barrel when Owen returned to the back room. He watched in silence as his father pulled loose the knot on the strip of rawhide he used to tie his hair back into a queue. He finger-combed his long locks before he gathered them once more to tie at the back of his neck. All the while his father avoided eye contact.

  Owen finally looked up, his gaze meeting that of his son’s. “I locked the front door and pulled the blind. I can’t afford to close up for too long and lose business, but it will give us a few minutes to talk uninterrupted. Now, tell me about the nonsense Fergus Campbell spouted off to you.”

  Charlie folded his arms, refusing to admit to himself he did so as a defensive measure against what he feared his father had to tell him. Campbell had told him plenty, but he wondered how much of it his father would confirm.

  “I told you what he called me, but he didn’t say it as an insult. He claims because my mother was Indian, you weren’t legally married.”

  Owen turned away and cursed as he shook his head. Then he looked Charlie full in the face. “Bigots like Fergus Campbell prefer to think the only kind of marriage is a Christian one, or one performed before a judge. I was married to your mother, Charlie. Anyone in the Kaw nation old enough to remember knows Owl Woman and I were joined according to their custom. Among them, our marriage is recognized.”

  Charlie glared at his father as he struggled to keep his emotions under control. “What you’re saying is, Campbell has the right of it. According to American law, you and my mother were not legally married. That means my sister and I were born illegitimate.”

  Owen shook his head. “That’s what some may claim now. It wasn’t that way at the time I married your mother. There have been many changes since that time, Charlie. Even though the United States bought this land from the French when I was a child, for decades this was all considered Indian land. When I was growing up, just about the only people who came
to trade were white trappers—mostly French—and the tribes, especially the Kaw.”

  “And that is why you married my mother?”

  Owen stared off to the side, focusing on nothing in particular.

  “Yes. I was getting up in age, and my father thought it might be a good idea to foster goodwill among the Kansa people for me to take one of them for a wife. There was no such thing like judges or churches, to speak of. A body needed to cross the river to find anything resembling white civilization.

  “You need to understand, at the time my father and I first came here, the Kaw were still a strong tribe. Unfortunately, they were among the first to make contact with the whites, and among the first in this region to succumb to smallpox and other European diseases. Their men who did most of the trading, were especially hard-hit. Between that and fighting with the other tribes, especially the Pawnee, their enemies to the north, they aren’t near as numerous today as they were then. At the time, they were still smarting over the 1825 treaty where they sold a large part of their territory to the American government. Then, after your mother and I married, the Kansa reluctantly agreed to a treaty taking more of their land in exchange for the reservation where they live now. Many of the younger warriors did not agree with the elders, but it was done. From that point on, more whites came on their way to the lands by the Pacific Ocean.”

  “Yes, I understand about the gold in California.” With his arms folded, and his expression accusatory, Charlie forced out his words. “So, marrying my mother was a business decision?”

  Owen turned his gaze to focus on his son. “Yes, in many ways that’s true. But, Charlie, you need to realize even though I always have been more married to my work than any woman, I came to care for your mother very much.”

  “Yet, you left us with the tribe.”

  “That was your mother’s wish, not mine. When we first married, I brought her to live here at the trading post. She stayed the first few years. Although there were those men who treated her with a measure of respect because they knew she was my wife, unfortunately, the frontier draws men from the dregs of society. You know yourself men who cannot live peaceably or lawfully within a civilized community come through here all the time. Too many times men made insulting remarks towards her, or tried to catch her off by herself so they could use her to satisfy their base desires. Of course, I put a stop to it each time I became aware of it. I’ve been in more than one fight over her, and not every adventurer who arrived here continued further west. However, she came to hate it here with me and wished to go back with her people.”

  Wordlessly, Charlie studied his father, guessing Owen paused his narration to gauge the effect of his words on him. Not wishing to discourage his father from continuing, Charlie said nothing. Much of what he just heard was new to him. Neither his father nor his Kaw uncle, Hawk Beak, had ever before explained how he ended up living with the tribe until he reached almost eight years, which was many months after his mother’s death.

  Owen resumed his story. “Not long after you were born, she begged to go live with her brother. Even though I hated parting from you and your sister, I would not deny her. I took as many trade goods as I could as gifts for the chief of your uncle’s band as well as your uncle. Once Hawk Beak agreed to look after her in exchange for me providing for her support by regularly bringing trade goods, I left her.” Owen’s eyes narrowed as he intensified the focus of his gaze on Charlie. “You do recall I came often to visit you, don’t you? Your younger sister, the one who died shortly after her birth, was born long after you moved to live with your uncle.”

  Charlie kept his face expressionless and his voice quiet. “I remember. I also remember you did not come for many moons after you married your white wife. My mother and sister Nose-twitches-like-rabbit died of the smallpox, and still you did not come.” Charlie shifted his gaze to the far wall behind his father. His expression grew wistful as he thought back on that time. “Even though I was away from the tribe during the epidemic and Hawk Beak cared for me, it was many months before you came for me.” Charlie again focused on Owen’s face. “Was your white wife also a business decision, or did you care for her more than your Kaw family?”

  Charlie watched his father run his fingers through his hair, once again pulling it loose from its rawhide tie. Owen paced in place several steps before he rested a hip on a nearby barrel.

  “No, I did not care for my second wife more than your mother. Things were more complicated then. By that time, I had a business partner. More whites were coming to Westport to cross the river. We knew it would be to their advantage to be able to ferry their wagons across without a load heavy with provisions bought on the other side of the river. We wished for them to provision themselves for the journey to Oregon or California from here instead, even though Westport, by then, was a bigger supply center than Independence. However, we needed to convince them of the wisdom of buying from us. He felt it would help draw business to us if we both were married businessmen—more settled, you might say. You could say it was a business decision to marry your brothers’ mother, although I also came to care for her.” Wearing a stern expression, Owen faced his son. “I was not unfaithful to your mother with my decision to marry my second wife. The Kaw allow for plural marriage.”

  “And, yet, the whites do not allow for more than one wife. You are not Kaw. The mother of my brothers did not know about your Kaw family.”

  A guilty expression flittered across Owen’s face. He shook his head and looked away. “No, she didn’t. Not at first. ”

  Charlie glared at his father as understanding dawned. Fergus Campbell spoke the truth. Charlie fought down the heaving breaths that threatened to change to screams of rage. He struggled to keep his voice calm. “Unlike my mother, did you marry your white wife in a manner acceptable to the American laws?”

  “Yes. We crossed the river to Westport and were married by a Methodist preacher.”

  “You were able to marry her legally because, in the eyes of the Americans, your marriage to my mother wasn’t legal. Based on the American laws, you were not a bigamist. Now, even more of the Americans are coming into Kansas Territory not to travel through, but to stay and work the land. According to their laws, I am not your legitimate son. Only my brothers by your white wife are.”

  “Charlie, I don’t look at it like that. To me, all my sons are on the same footing.”

  Charlie stepped forward and raised the volume of his voice. “But even you must live with American laws now that Kansas belongs to the Americans, especially now it has been opened for white settlement. If what you say is true, and my mother was your true wife, then to the Americans, the only thing that prevented my white brothers from being bastards was that my mother died a few months before the oldest was born. Since the law does not recognize my mother’s marriage to you, it means I’m the one who is not a legitimate son.”

  Fists clenched, Owen rose to his feet and stepped towards his son. “I care nothing for that. All three of my sons are equal to me. Why should the rantings of someone like Fergus Campbell matter to you?”

  Charlie dropped his arms to his sides, his fists also clenched as he puffed out his chest in defiance. “Because it means I cannot inherit. I cannot go to an American judge because he will not support my right to part-ownership of your business. Only my brothers are entitled to the store once you die.”

  Owen cursed loudly. “It’s my store. I’ll decide who gets it. If I say it goes to all three of my sons, then that’s how it will be.”

  “Not in the eyes of the Americans. To them, I have no rights at all. According to Fergus Campbell, American law is based on English law, which was written so the nobility could be with as many women as they choose, but the by-blows—that’s the word he used, but I gathered it means the same as what he called me—could have no claim upon the inheritances of the legitimate sons. In addition to him not wanting his daughter to have anything to do with a half-breed, he won’t have her end up with someone who can’t
promise to support her because, legally, I have no claim to your business when you die.”

  Owen turned away, shaking his head in denial. “That wouldn’t happen. Your brothers love you almost to the point of hero-worship. They would never cut you out of your fair share.”

  “Not now, but they are still young boys. People can change as they grow. If one of them develops a greed for more and learns I’m not entitled because of the law, they might push me out with nothing.”

  “Do you think so little of your brothers, then?”

  Charlie considered, and then shook his head. “No. It is not their fault they were born to a white mother who did not know about me at first. They had no say when she would not allow you to bring me into her home after my mother died and you finally came for me. Then, when she died, you treated the three of us the same. At first, I did not like that you brought them to Susan Morningstar to live with me. I soon realized you could have chosen for them to be raised by whites. Instead, they were raised by a half-breed like me. She is a good woman, even though she is half-Potawatomie, not Kaw. Amos Jackson chose well when he married her.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Jackson has done right by all you boys. She has taught you all to look after one another. That is why I don’t understand why you won’t give your brothers a chance to prove they won’t try to cheat you.”

  “They may or they may not. I don’t wish to wait around to see. I’ll choose my own way.” Charlie felt he regained a measure of empowerment with his last statement. He watched his father study him. Finally, Owen nodded in resignation.

  “You’re a man, Charlie. What do you wish to do? Maybe you could…” Owen inhaled as if to give himself time to consider the wisdom of what he was about to say. “Amos is getting on in years although he refuses to admit it. Maybe you could go with him and help him scout for the freight train that is due to leave soon for Santa Fe. That’s all new country, Charlie. You might enjoy seeing it. At first, it does almost follow the Kaw Path to their hunting grounds you traveled with your uncle last summer, only its a few miles to the north. Once you get past that, it is all new territory.”