A Dream Unfolding

by Karen Baney

  “Sure boss,” both men answered.

  “First priority is securing the herd.”

  The cabin filled with the smoke of spent gunpowder as Will and Ben provided cover fire. Though few of their shots connected with the Apache thieves, they were able to distract them enough for Whitten and Owens to make it safely to the barn. They mounted bareback and bridle free since there was no time to saddle the horses. Owens aimed his revolver at the Indian holding the gate open. The shot connected and propelled the raider into the path of the frantic cattle crushing him under their weight. Owens, now having control of the gate, swung it closed. The bulk of the herd was secure. Whitten rode out toward Pedro, Miguel, Diego, and Raul to round up the remaining cattle.

  Will and Ben darted from the safety of the bunkhouse, shooting the direction of the now retreating Apaches. Hearing more than just horse hoof beats, Will knew he lost some cattle in the confrontation. Hopefully that was all they lost.

  “Whitten, did you see how many they got away with?” Ben asked.

  “I’d say about twenty head, no more,” Whitten replied. “Doesn’t look like any of the new breeders are gone. None of the horses are missing either.”

  Twenty head. Not bad considering they could have gotten a whole lot more. The full moon had been his ally tonight, allowing the night herders to spot trouble and sound the alarm quickly.

  Will asked Whitten to stand guard tonight near the stables. The Indians had been bold enough to ride right into the heart of the ranch and Will was not taking any more chances. Starting tonight, he would post someone near the stables or outside the bunkhouse in addition to the men in the field with the cattle. Again he was starting to feel they were being stretched thin. Tomorrow they should be able to finish up the barn then they could concentrate on ranching—and their own safety.

  Chapter 17

  Albuquerque, New Mexico Territory

  December 4, 1863

  Drew’s palms grew sweaty as he concentrated on the target before him. This was a bad idea. I can’t shoot a gun.

  “Hold steady,” Harrison reminded him, “and look through the site. When you’ve got your mark lined up, just pull the trigger.”

  With jerky movements, Drew tried to line up the target. It always seemed to move more than he wanted it to as he adjusted his position. Sighing in frustration, he lost the target completely—and it was a stationary target.

  “Patience, Drew,” Harrison encouraged. “Don’t let your frustration get the best of you.”

  “It shows that much?”

  Harrison let out a deep belly laugh. “Yes. Tell me, how do you keep steady when you remove a bullet from a man’s gut?”

  Drew smirked, lowering the rifle to his side without taking the shot. That was a hard question. How did he keep a steady hand in surgery? “Practice I suppose,” he admitted, remembering how shaky and nervous he had been the first few times he operated on someone.

  “Well, that’s how you’re going to learn how to shoot,” Harrison said. Picking up the rifle, he thrust it towards Drew.

  Slumping his shoulders, he took the rifle. This seemed far more difficult than medical school.

  “What’s that?” Harrison mock scolded. “Sagging shoulders is horrible form.”

  Drew straightened his back and shot his friend a woeful look.

  “You still want to go through with this, right?”

  Hesitating, Drew wanted to back out. He could not shoot a gun. He could not take a life. Could he?

  Grabbing him by the shoulders, Harrison gave him a shake. “What will you do if Mrs. Anderson needs you to protect her from the Navajo? Will you slump your shoulders in defeat then? Let her fend for herself?”

  Remorse lodged in his throat as he remembered his motivation for asking Harrison this favor. “Of course not. I will give it my best attempt.”

  Raising the rifle to his shoulder, Drew closed his eyes. Slowly he opened them, looking through the site. Seeing the target he squeezed the trigger. The gun fired, jamming hard against his shoulder, almost causing him to drop the weapon.

  “You did it!” Harrison exclaimed.

  Rubbing his sore shoulder, Drew propped the rifle against a nearby tree. He walked toward the target, amazed that he actually hit it, though not exactly in the spot he expected. Perhaps he would do well enough in an emergency—just as long as he did not think about his target being a man.

  Maybe this wilderness living was toughening him up. Within the last month, he finally felt comfortable around the oxen. He was no longer the last one ready when the wagon train pulled out. His arms were bulking up, probably from heaving all those full water barrels into the back of the wagon.

  Even though he felt more at ease, he still missed doctoring. He would be more than happy to settle down in Granite Creek and start living a normal life again. He would build a quaint house with attached clinic. Paul already agreed to help him with the furniture. Hannah would have her kitchen, likely smaller than before, but he was certain she would be happy in it.

  Thanking Harrison for the lesson, Drew headed back to camp. Turning his face towards the sun, he closed his eyes. An image of a small log cabin filled his vision. Hannah smiled at him, a little boy propped on her hip. Bounding in from outside was a little girl, perhaps a bit older than the boy. She had the same lovely deep blue eyes as her mother. They all smiled at him, love bursting forth.

  Opening his eyes, he looked at the circle of wagons. The beautiful image faded too quickly, followed by a rush of disappointment. He never shared with Hannah how incredibly sad he was that they had no children yet. He did not want her to feel worse than she already did. He knew she thought about it often. The way she would gaze longingly off at nothing in particular. Or the way she followed the movements of each of the children on the wagon train.

  She would make a wonderful mother with her kind heart and her eagerness to take care of others’ needs. He remembered the way she would take time to teach the young children that came into the clinic. She always spoke to them in a way they understood, easing their fears of what Drew was doing to set their broken arms or stitch their gashed foreheads.

  A smile erupted from the love overflowing his heart. Hannah truly was an amazing woman and he loved her dearly.

  Here they were, now in Albuquerque. Waiting. Again. The train arrived in the town four days ago and had remained. The Navajo had been particularly active in the area for the past few weeks, so the fort’s commander insisted the travelers remain for several more days until the threat of Navajo attacks diminished. The commander was not taking any chances with the governor’s group.

  As usual, Hannah filled the waiting with mending or laundry, such as today. As she mindlessly hung the clothes out to dry, Hannah thought back to her conversation with Betty on Thanksgiving.

  “Are you afraid of what we will find once we settle near Granite Creek?” Hannah asked, still quite unsettled by her recurring nightmares.

  “Some. Although I’ve learned a long time ago that God will provide. If he has a mind to take me when we get there or along the way, then I trust He knows what He’s doing,” smiled Betty.

  “But aren’t you afraid of the Indians? What if they attack us? What if your son dies?”

  “Hannah, when Jesus told the crowd not to worry, he meant it. All of your ‘what ifs’ are what he was talking about. Certainly he could take my son or me. I could get sick and suffer greatly, or I might just be healthy as an ox and live a long life. I don’t know what the future holds, so I choose to trust my heavenly father that does.”

  Hannah could not stop thinking about what Betty said. Did she really trust God, no matter what? Sure she knew that Jesus died for her sins and she knew she would go to heaven. But was all her fear of the unknown and the “what ifs” a lack of trust? She wanted to trust God with everything.

  The dream she had last night, did not help her with that trust. She had tossed and turned most of the night. When she finally fell asleep, the nightmare of the floati
ng head returned—only this time she watched her husband die in her arms, unable to save him. She woke up in a sweat this morning, despite the cold temperatures, and had yet to shake the horrible sensation of impending doom. Could she trust God no matter what? Could she trust him if this nightmare became reality? Would God really bring her all this way to leave her alone?

  After the dreadful years of loneliness, both living with her father and after he passed, meeting Drew had been such a blessing. Not only were they in love, but they were truly friends. They worked alongside each other at his office day after day enjoying each other’s companionship. He made her feel special and cherished. And his faith served to strengthen hers. It was his shoulder she cried on when she missed her mother or needed to grieve the loss of her father’s affection. Hannah was the same for Drew. When he needed to talk out his frustrations over his brother’s rebellion or when he missed his parents, she was there to comfort him. All of this came so easily and naturally between the two. Hannah knew their bond was rare and uncommon.

  What would she do if that bond was broken, if Drew were suddenly gone? Ah, there was that “what if” again. Maybe the dream served as a prodding from God to place Drew in his hands. Lord, I know you want me to trust you, but it is so difficult. I want to believe that I can trust you with Drew. Please help me trust you.

  Hannah waited, expecting her heart to be at peace. But it was not. Wasn’t that how it was supposed to work? You pray, then you feel at peace? It seemed like a lot of her prayers were left unanswered on this trip.

  Frustrated, Hannah shook out the next piece of wet clothing. She knew better. She knew God did not always answer quickly. She need not even talk to Betty to be reminded of that. Why was it so hard to trust?

  Stretching her sore back, Hannah willed her mind to rest. Maybe that is what the Bible meant when it said to take captive her thoughts. Maybe it was sometimes just a matter of telling herself to be quiet. She smiled at the mental image of her shaking her finger, scolding herself. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and forced a smile to her face. She could do this.

  As the sun lowered in the sky and Hannah finished preparing the evening meal, she already heard the music starting for another fandango. This strange custom seemed to occur nightly no matter what town they stayed at in the New Mexico Territory. She longed for a peaceful evening.

  After spending eight days in Albuquerque, the commander felt the hostile Navajo were no longer a threat and allowed the wagon train to be on its way. The old familiar routine of the trail prevailed. Hannah was always much happier moving forward than spending days on end camped in the same location.

  Toward the middle of the afternoon on the second day of travel from Albuquerque, the wagon train came upon another village, populated mostly by the peaceful Laguna Indians. The town was an odd mix of adobe structures, stacked native pueblos, and the tall white façade of a Spanish mission. The surrounding area was blanketed in snow-covered farm land.

  The people were rather friendly hosts. They treated the wagon train to a display of their native dances. The more than one hundred dancers were dressed in war costumes and their bodies were painted with symbols meaningful to their tribe. They howled and chanted, moving fluidly to the steady beat of several loud drums. Hannah thought the display very interesting, although she understood none of their native language.

  Even though the wagon train was not planning on stopping for any length of time in Laguna, they remained for two hours before continuing on to the designated camp for the evening. Much of the conversation at camp centered on the strange display they witnessed. When they first met the Lagunas, Hannah had been frightened. Her dream about Drew being killed by Indians was still fresh in her mind. She almost thought these were the ones who might take his life. But she quickly discovered they were truly a peaceful farming community with an interesting blend of native and Catholic beliefs. She supposed the latter was from the strong Spanish influence in the area and that Mexico had owned much of the territory for the past quarter of a century.

  The next few days of travel were relatively quiet. They arrived at Fort Wingate, the last fort in the New Mexico Territory along their journey. Soon they would be in the Arizona Territory and Hannah was excited by the news. Since they were staying a few days at the fort, the normal cleaning routine started the morning after their arrival. Hannah wanted to get the chores done early this morning, as the governor requested their presence for supper.

  That evening the meal with the governor’s party was informative, as usual. The commander of Fort Wingate, a major whose name Hannah could not recall, was particularly concerned about the Navajo in the area.

  “Governor, I know you have a company of cavalry assigned to your party to take permanent residence at Fort Whipple. However, those forces are insufficient to offer adequate protection for your party, especially against the threat of Navajo attacks. They have been particularly active in the eastern corner of the Arizona Territory and western corner of the New Mexico territory. My men had several encounters this week alone,” the major emphasized the seriousness of the situation. “General Carleton has assigned two additional companies to travel with you. One will return here once you are safely settled at Fort Whipple. The other will head south towards the Tucson area.”

  “When will they arrive to escort us? We have been delayed longer than we hoped and desire to be on our way,” Governor Goodwin questioned.

  “They should arrive in the morning,” the major replied in his nasally voice. Hannah found his tone almost condescending. “We should be able to have you on your way in a day or two. Please keep in mind the gravity of the situation. The Navajo are not like the friendly Lagunas you encountered on your way here. They are fearless and would have no qualms about killing you in your sleep.”

  At Hannah’s gasp, Secretary McCormick reprimanded the major. “You have made your point, Major. No need for dramatics. We welcome the escort. Let’s not forget ourselves and that there are ladies present.” Turning to Hannah, he added, “I do apologize for the major’s behavior, Mrs. Anderson. I am certain we will all be quite safe.” The last word he emphasized while glaring back at the major through narrowed eyes.

  The major, obviously embarrassed by being put in his place, opted to concentrate his efforts on his meal.

  “How much farther to the border?” Mr. Richmond asked.

  One of the captains seated next to the major answered, his tone much more pleasant, “Our best estimate is that the border is just a day or two from here. The true border has yet to be properly surveyed and mapped.”

  “We were thinking of waiting until a few days into the territory before holding the formal inauguration. Can you recommend an area that might be safe?” the governor asked.

  “Navajo Springs would definitely be within the territory,” replied the captain. “It is a small watering hole about four days ride from here. The Navajo do not typically occupy that area.”

  “Perhaps when we are finished dining you can sketch us a rough map,” suggested Secretary McCormick.

  The captain nodded his agreement.

  Hannah yawned before she could catch herself. While she enjoyed hearing the discussions of the government officials, she found they often carried the conversation rather late.

  “Mrs. Anderson,” Secretary McCormick started. “Tell us, what have you found most interesting about the journey west thus far?”

  Hannah thought for a moment. There were so many things that were foreign to her. “Well, the thing I have enjoyed the most is the beauty of the varied landscape. The vast wide open prairies were so different from the rolling hills of Ohio. I never dreamed one could see forever,” she said smiling. “When we were winding through the mountains in Colorado, I loved the way the sun highlighted the snow caps. The water there was so clear.”

  “Yes, the mountains in Colorado were magnificent,” Mr. Richmond was quick to agree, “even if climbing them seemed rather daunting.”

  The group chuck
led. Hannah continued, “In Santa Fe, I was most impressed by the vibrant colors the residents used in their blankets and clothing. It is a far cry from the bland colors of wool and calico.”

  “Very astute observation, Mrs. Anderson,” commented Secretary McCormick. “Not only were their blankets and clothing colorful, but the people seemed to be as well.”

  Hearty laughter around the table provided a response. As the noise died down, Mr. Richmond asked, “What of you, Dr. Anderson?”

  “While I agree with Hannah, I think the most memorable part of the journey for me has been making the transition from doctoring to driving a wagon,” Drew answered with a glint in his eye. “I must say I will be glad to leave driving behind and get back to doctoring.”

  The men around the table caught on to Drew’s attempt at humor and rewarded him with a laugh. “Indeed, I shall not miss sleeping on the ground,” Mr. Richmond responded.

  “And, Mr. Richmond, what did you find most interesting?” Drew asked.

  “The prairie dogs. I so loved their funny barking and the way they popped their heads up from the ground, looking at us as we passed by.”

  Murmurs from other men indicated they agreed with the young man.

  “I most enjoyed,” Secretary McCormick good naturedly said, “seeing the governor picking up buffalo chips for fuel in the prairie.”

  This brought another hearty round of laughter from all. Several others shared fun anecdotes of their experiences so far and the supper concluded in a light-hearted manner.

  As they were walking back to camp, Drew confessed, “I lied when I answered Mr. Richmond’s question.” Placing his lips close to her ear he whispered, “The thing I will remember most was our time in Santa Fe.”

  Hannah blushed, knowing exactly what he was referring to. Honestly, she would remember that afternoon, too.

  Chapter 18