Charlie's Choice

by Zina Abbott

  With her peripheral vision, Meadowlark caught a movement in the brush several feet away. Sensing it was not the limb of a plant moved by the breeze, she froze in place. She had no idea if a human or animal tracked her. She reached for the knife she carried at her waist as she cautiously stepped to the side so she could press her back against the trunk of one of the few trees in the area.

  Meadowlark sucked in her breath as she listened to the soft voice that called to her. Although she had not heard that voice since before the tribe returned from the summer buffalo hunt, she recognized it. Her childhood friend Gray Squirrel, now the warrior known as Gray-cloud-speaks-thunder, followed her. With the barest whisper of a step in the dead leaves that carpeted the ground, Gray-cloud-speaks-thunder stepped around the trunk of the tree she stood next to and appeared a few feet away at her side. Like most of the young men, during this time of summer heat, he wore no shirt, only his breechcloth and a wide shell and quill necklace.

  “You do not need the knife, Meadowlark. I mean you no harm. I am here to protect you if danger comes.”

  Her throat tight with excitement and anticipation, Meadowlark put her knife away and allowed the gathering pouch to slip to the ground. Several seconds passed before she found her voice and responded. “I did not expect you. Why have you come?”

  She watched him smile wide and his eyes light up with laughter.

  “I see you get straight to the point, as usual. I came to see you.”

  Meadowlark’s heart pounded. Her senses heightened, she raised her hand as of to touch the man before her. Then she remembered her manners and allowed it to drop at her side. “I am happy you have come. It is good to see the warrior you have become. The name you earned speaks much power.”

  “It is good to hear that, Meadowlark. I will tell you later what my father said about my new name, but not now.”

  Hope surged inside Meadowlark. He planned to speak to her of his father at another time. He did not plan on speaking to her only this one time. He reached over and took her hand in his. Instinctively, she tightened her grip and stepped towards him. She waited for him to continue.

  “I have made my decision. I choose to live the life of a Kansa warrior and stay with the tribe rather than live in the world of the Americans. I will need a wife—a good, traditional Kansa wife who will not be ashamed to be married to one of mixed blood.”

  Meadowlark swallowed as she studied the man before her. Tanned by the summer sun, except for his gray eyes, as long as he did not smile, nothing about his appearance and dress revealed his white ancestry. As much as she wanted this man for herself, she dared not assume too much. Perhaps he had found another woman among the half-breeds, one with a French father or grandfather, who lived near the same camp as his uncle. Perhaps he had visited those along the Kansas River, the descendants of White Plume and the other mixed-bloods who owned property. Perhaps he had found a woman who could provide him land he could hold title to, not reservation land held in common by the full-bloods. Perhaps he had come to her for advice regarding the woman he had chosen since she was a trusted childhood friend.

  She had to know. She did not want to hear the details about him asking for a woman other than her from Chases Quail or another of the old women. “Have you found the woman you wish for a wife?”

  Gray-cloud-speaks-thunder held her gaze with his and smiled again, this time with a gentleness that flowed into his words.

  “I have. But there is something she must be willing to accept if I ask for her and her father allows me to have her for a wife. My father owns a freight train that travels to Santa Fe each year on the trail that passes by the reservation. His scout is getting old and wishes to teach me to replace him. My father also desires this, and promises to pay me with food and goods I can use to support my family. This will be good for the Kansa, but it will mean I will be gone many moons each year. I will be here for the winter buffalo hunt, but not the summer hunt. When I am gone, I must rely on family to look after my wife and any children we have.”

  Meadowlark looked away as she pondered what that might mean for her if he chose her. He would be gone many moons at a time. Then again, the women were used to the men leaving on hunting or raiding parties while they stayed behind to tend their corn fields and children. The reward for enduring his absence with patience would be he would bring her and whoever she lived with while he was gone food and supplies not always available at a good price from the reservation trading post.

  However, there was the issue that the Santa Fe Trail crossed hunting territory of tribes hostile to both the whites and the Kansa. She had heard the Apache far to the south could attack with fierceness if they did not wish others crossing their land. “How many years do you plan to scout for your father?”

  Almost afraid of what she might see in his expression, Meadowlark glanced at his face with caution. She realized he studied her with a seriousness that matched her concern.

  “Probably as long as my father needs a scout for his freight wagons. I do not know how long. There are railroads east of the Missouri River that have large wagons for freight. They are pulled by a great iron engine that is stronger than many horses. They say a railroad will soon come to St. Joseph, Missouri not many days travel north. It may be if they bring the railroads to this side of the Missouri River my father will send his freight that way. Until then, he needs a scout he can trust for his wagons.”

  Meadowlark nodded with understanding. “I have heard the elders speaking in council. One reason the Americans want to take more land from the Kansa is to use it for one of these railroads you speak of.” She jerked her head up and focused her gaze on the man before her as she felt his fingers trail the side of her face.

  “Meadowlark, you must know it is you I wish for my wife. It is from you I must learn if you are willing to accept me for a husband even though I am not full Kansa by blood. It from you I must know if you can be happy as a wife to a trader scout who will be gone many moons of the year. It is you I choose, Meadowlark. Before I go to your father and ask for you, I must know if you will accept me.”

  Emotion welling up within her, Meadowlark swallowed and sought her voice. She hesitantly reached up her free hand and cupped Gray-cloud-speaks-thunder’s cheek with her palm. “Yes. I accept you. I will not like you being gone so long each year, but for the good of our family and our people, I will agree to it.”

  ~o0o~

  Overcome with relief and exhilaration at Meadowlark’s declaration that she would accept him as her husband, Charlie dropped her hand and wrapped both his arms around her. As he pulled her body towards his, he felt her arms wrap around his neck. He pressed his cheek against her temple as he squeezed her tight. “You make me very happy, Meadowlark.”

  Instead of pulling away as he feared, Meadowlark buried her forehead into the side of his neck. He could hear the emotion in her voice.

  “We have always had a connection, even when we were children. It may have dimmed as we were kept apart, but it has not left us. It is right that we join together. My father will be a challenge, but I will work to smooth your way when you ask him for me. You must speak your words of thunder to convince him we belong together.”

  “I will talk to your father soon. Ever since I saw you that day you came to speak to me, I realized you had a purpose beyond telling me to pluck my face hairs.” With a teasing grin, Charlie leaned his head back far enough to rub his chin against Meadowlark’s cheek. “See, woman, I obeyed you. I have the smooth face of a warrior.” At Meadowlark’s soft laugh, he pulled her tight against him once more.

  “I am surprised you are willing to speak to me again after I told you that. My father says I’m too bossy.”

  “You are bossy. However, you were right. That day it helped me settle my mind on the choices I must make and what I must do to achieve them. I succeeded in becoming a warrior.” Charlie pulled away until his gaze captured hers. “Now I must work towards getting a proper Kansa wife. You, Meadowlark. I long for you.” Charl
ie placed his palm to the back of Meadowlark’s head and guided it until he could whisper into her ear. “I came here to choose the direction for my future. I choose you, Meadowlark. You are my future.”

  Charlie very much wished to kiss Meadowlark but did not know if he dared. He did not know how Meadowlark would feel about being kissed. Besides, he had never kissed a woman and was not sure he knew exactly how to do it. He had seen it done many times. Even though Susan Morningstar Jackson was not the most beautiful woman and was almost as round as she was tall, Amos seemed to like her well enough he kissed her often. Charlie had caught them more than once hugging each other while they kissed. Most of the time he managed to observe while undetected so he could study how it was done. Rather than risk offending Meadowlark, he decided to wait until they were married before he explored the wonders of kissing with her.

  Charlie’s heart nearly burst with joy at Meadowlark’s next words.

  “I choose you, Gray-cloud-speaks-thunder. Please go to my father soon to ask for me.”

  .

  .

  .

  .

  Chapter 11

  ~o0o~

  Hard Chief’s Camp, Council Grove Kansa Reservation

  Kansas Territory

  September, 1856

  C harlie felt like snakes crawled through his body. He had not been this nervous at the time of the raid against the Cheyenne when he had captured his horses. However, this was different. If he wished to marry the woman his heart longed for, he must first face her father, the old traditional warrior, Spotted Horse. He must convince the man that even with his white blood mixed with his Kansa, he was a worthy choice for Meadowlark.

  That morning, Charlie had diligently prepared himself physically in the same manner as when he had visited with his father. Accompanied by Eyes-like-hawk who would hold the horses captured from the Cheyenne while Charlie negotiated with Meadowlark’s father, he now rode towards Spotted Horse’s lodge to present him with the two ponies and other gifts he had acquired. Hopefully, the stubborn old man would accept his gifts as worthy and allow Meadowlark to become his wife.

  Charlie smiled with the realization that once they saw him and his cousins leading the gift horses, many of the camp to which his uncle belonged left what they had been doing. Keeping their distance and their conversations quiet, they trailed along behind him and Eyes-like-hawk.

  Word of Charlie’s intentions spread quickly as they approached Hard Chief’s camp in which lived Spotted Horse and Meadowlark. Charlie suspected by the time they arrived, a large audience would surround the door to Spotted Horse’s lodge to view the event.

  His apprehension regarding the outcome of his talk with Spotted Horse tied Charlie’s insides in knots. To have his possible rejection and humiliation witnessed by so many added to his anxiety. Even though he knew he had proven himself as a hunter and comported himself well as a warrior, would that be enough for Spotted Horse to accept him? Or, in spite of all he had accomplished, would Spotted Horse reject him as a worthy husband for his daughter strictly because of his white father?

  Charlie reached an acceptable distance from the doorway. “Spotted Horse, Gray-cloud-speaks-thunder, the son of Owl Woman, wishes permission to speak with you.”

  Charlie knew Spotted Horse had been made aware of his presence and the purpose for his visit. At the moment he first caught sight of Spotted Horse’s lodge, he had seen Chases Quail, Spotted Horse’s sister by marriage, hurry through the crowd and disappear inside Spotted Horse’s lodge. Even though she did not live in the same camp as his uncle and cousin, she was known to be quick to spread the word of anything that happened among the entire tribe. He, along with Eyes-like-hawk, dismounted. They handed the horse they rode off to two young boys in the crowd who stepped forward to take them. Eyes-like-hawk held the lead ropes of the two Cheyenne ponies Charlie intended as gifts. Now afoot, Charlie patiently waited to see if Spotted Horse would extend him the courtesy of either inviting him into the lodge, or coming out to speak with him.

  Several minutes passed before Spotted Horse stepped into the open and stood before Charlie. For all his traditional ways, he wore a red broadcloth shirt trimmed with blue piping beneath his quill and bead medallion neckwear. Like many senior warriors, he wore a scarlet brocade turban-style headdress with feathers jutting up in the back. Charlie’s anxiety eased a smidgen. The old man would not have taken the trouble to dress in his best or even step out to meet him if he did not wish to consider Charlie’s request seriously.

  Charlie almost forgot about the presence of Spotted Horse as he watched Meadowlark, also carefully groomed, step out and stand off to the side behind her father. She glanced up at him. As their gazes locked, nothing existed for Charlie except the two of them. He lost focus of Spotted Horse standing before him, and the crowds surrounding him. He knew with a certainty greater than he had ever known before Meadowlark was his choice—she had always been his choice from the time they were children. It had required him to escape the white man’s world to remind himself of that.

  Eyes-like-hawk’s nudge to his spine and the titter that rippled through the crowd brought Charlie back to a consciousness of his surroundings. Eyes-like-hawk spoke into his ear, his message intended only for Charlie.

  “Better answer him this time, fool, instead of gawking at his daughter.”

  Charlie focused his attention on Spotted Horse. He had not heard what the man said, but he spoke with what he hoped was a proper response. “I bring you gifts, Spotted Horse, to prove I am able to provide for a wife and family. I ask for your daughter, Meadowlark, to be my wife.”

  Charlie stood still and watched as Spotted Horse first studied his face, and next, the wool trade blanket woven in a pattern of red, black and natural colors draped across his forearm. Spotted Horse’s gaze next turned to the two horses Charlie brought with him. As if on cue, Eyes-like-hawk led them by their halters in a circle so Spotted Horse could study them from every angle. Although Charlie knew they were fine ponies, young and strong, except for a flicker of want that faded almost as soon as it appeared, Spotted Horse gave no indication that he approved of them. Then again, Spotted Horse was known to be a tough negotiator. His gaze met Charlie’s.

  “Gray-cloud-speaks-thunder is a warrior’s name I have only heard recently. During the years you should have become a warrior, you lived in the world of the Americans. There are many Americans, far more than Kansa. They have used their power to take much from the Kansa. Why do you now come before me as a Kansa when you would be better off among the Americans?”

  “I will not be better off among the Americans. Just as you, Spotted Horse, find it difficult to accept me because of my white blood even though you know my father, Owen Jones, is a friend of the Kansa, most white Americans reject me because they only see my Kansa blood. I have chosen the Kansa way. It is true the Americans hold much power, but they are not a people of honor when it comes to their dealings with the Kansa. One government man comes and makes treaties promising fairness to the Kansa. Later, others come and say the treaty is no good, and they will not honor it. Instead, they steal the money intended for us. What little food they do bring us in exchange for what we gave them is not enough to feed us and often not fit to eat. Americans come onto Kansa land bought with money the government paid the tribe so it would give up the rest of Kansa territory. The Indian agent that is to protect us with American laws looks away and tells the white squatters to stay, that he will not call in the soldiers to drive them out. Even if the Kansa tribe is weaker than the Americans coming into his land, I choose the way of honor.”

  Charlie waited several seconds while Spotted Horse studied him.

  “You say you choose the Kansa way after only a few moons among us. How can I know that you will not return to your place among the Americans before the winter hunt like you did before? How do I know you will not grow tired of the dangers and losses faced by the Kansa and seek an easier life among the Americans? I will not allow my daughter to marr
y a man who will take her to live among the Americans.”

  “I have turned my back on the American way, Spotted Horse. I have learned how it was for Owl Woman among the Americans, and it is far worse now as more Americans come to chew up this land with their plows. I would never take a Kansa woman to live among them. I will be here for the winter buffalo hunt. I wish to make my home among the Kansa and raise a family with a traditional Kansa wife.”

  “Then you give your word you will not return to the Americans?”

  Charlie hesitated. He knew what he said next could forever end his chances of having Meadowlark for a wife. However, it was better to take his chances and treat Spotted Horse honorably by telling him the truth from the start. “I will return to the Americans, but not to live. My white father has asked me to work as a scout on his freight train he sends to Santa Fe each year. It is in the land of the Apache far to the west and south of here. He values the skills I have learned as a Kansa warrior. Once the wagons return, he will not pay me in whiskey or rifles, but in food and goods which I will bring home to my family and the Kansa people. When I do not scout for the wagons, I will live among the Kansa and join in their hunts.”

  Several more seconds passed before Spotted Horse responded. “Before you reach the land of the Apache, you must pass through the land of the Cheyenne and the Comanche. Perhaps my daughter does not wish a husband who will leave her behind many moons at a time to risk his scalp among our enemies.”

  Before Charlie could think of a response, he watched as Meadowlark stepped forward and spoke a few words in her father’s ear. Without a change in his expression he turned and entered his lodge. Meadowlark followed close behind.”

  Charlie inhaled deeply and fought to settle the anxiety which coursed through him similar to what he had experienced prior to battle. Asking for a wife turned out to be even more nerve-wracking than he expected. He cringed as he felt the heat radiating off his cousin’s skin warm his shoulder. He recognized the teasing humor in his cousin’s words meant only for his ears.