by Rita Hestand
"So, you stand for Texas?"
He snickered, "I'm a Texan first, an American second and a southerner last. I'd rather fight Indians than be in this damned war. Excuse my English."
She exhaled a breath. Then shook her head. "Only a short time ago, back in New York, I was excited to come west, to see what Johnny spoke of in his letters. I have fallen in love with this land. So, now, I don't know. War is so damaging, needless killing and for what. And who wins?"
"In war, no one really wins." He sighed. "But you shouldn't worry about this. There's not much you can do."
"I know, that's what's so aggravating about it."
"When we fought for independence, it wasn't hard to choose a side. You came here, you wanted to make a better place for your children to grow up in. There was a chance to start all over from the mistakes made in England. But this war is so different. You can sit down at the table with your family and everyone has a different view of it. No one agrees. The sad thing is, we will fight our families. We will kill family and friends and when it's over, what have we accomplished? The only good thing that can come of it is that the slaves will be free. If that's the case, why not avoid the war and set them free, then pay them to pick the crops. The north must not put stiff taxes on the south, as the south produces what the north needs. There are answers, but no one likes them. And no one can agree."
"I wish I could stop this war. It reminds me of an ocean coming at us. Will we all drown?" She cried. "And I want to understand."
He hesitated a moment, then took her hand and walked her to the edge of the cemetery and leaned against the fence post, as his hand waved toward the open part of the fort. "No one understands it totally, Jenny."
He looked at her, "Can I call you Jenny?"
She nodded, with a slight blush.
"This war is like a chess game. One side makes a move, then the other will. Even though someone will win, the winner will lose something too. The price of not finding a solution for it, is death, lots of death. Until we see this, we won't know what it cost us to fight it. But the south will lose."
"How do you know this?" She asked perplexed by his statement. "How can you be so sure?"
He sighed heavily. "I'm no expert on war. Although, I've seen my fair share of it. The north makes guns, ammunition, the things the south will need to run their side of the war. Our men have few uniforms, and the guns and ammunitions will run low fast. We've been so busy supplying the needs of the north, we forgot to forge some industry here for ourselves. We will have to make our own guns and our own supplies now, as will the north. And, despite it all, slavery is not the answer to anything. We have no right to enslave people. So, we are wrong, even though economically we must do it this way. We are wrong. We will lose. The wrong side always loses. But the north is wrong too, it was wrong of them to bring those people here, and then sell them because they couldn't use them in their factories. The sad truth is, if the north could use these people, they'd have them as slaves too. Slaves bring money to the south, to the north by selling them. Money is evil. On the slave issue, the south is wrong. It is wrong to enslave a whole people because they are black. So, the south will lose. But the north will see and feel the losses too, their families torn apart, their friend's dead. Both will lose in the end. The only hope comes from if they learn something from all of this." He sighed heavily.
"You are right."
"The north has the industry to make what they need. We don't. You see the big plantation owners made big profits, and all because of the slavery. The small farmer did not make those kinds of profits whether they had slaves or not. And everything about this war is not black and white. Some slave owners were cruel, intentionally cruel, evil even. Treating those people as though they were not people at all. Separating families, killing them for not working. And then there were the good slave owners who made them part of their own families, who gave them opportunities to earn their freedoms. Some taught them how to work and make a living at something here in this country. You see there is good and evil on both sides."
"We had a few house servants ourselves." Jennifer added.
"And how are they treated?"
"Quite well actually. But we do keep them in their place, which is wrong."
"No one man can stop this war now. Not even Lincoln. A hard lesson will be learned from it all. Just like the Indian. We've fought the Indians ever since we came to this country. It was their land, not ours. The Indian fights to keep the land that was his to begin with. Can you blame them. No, you can't, it was theirs, we took it away from them. The stronger or bigger armies always win. And we arrogantly call taking them over, progress. Which it is, but it also costs. The price is lives lost. The price of all wars is lives lost. And the civil war is going to tear this country apart."
"Can't the south build too?"
"Yes, and we will, but it will take time, know how and a place to do it. I've heard that some of the prisons will be used for that purpose. The south is arrogant enough to think they will win. But right and wrong has a lot to do with it too."
"You sound as though you might be a Yankee sympathizer." She whispered.
His glance slid over her slowly, enjoying the sight of her, as though he put that sight to his heart. Then he exhaled heavily. "I'm a realist. I love Texas, and we are so far from the front of the war, we might not suffer as much damage as other states. Sometimes I think about how Sam Houston didn't want to secede, and I agree. Other times I wish Texas had remained independent altogether. The only thing I see that the north might want from us, is our ships and shipping yards to the south. And our crops. They'll want our cotton. Texas is a land to itself. And one of the reasons we finally agreed to join the south was the lack of protection the union promised us from the Indians. Now the Confederates with their noble cause are doing the same thing."
"How will the Indians react to this war?"
"It's hard to say. They are the real Texans here. I imagine they would only fight for their own lands. But they won't hesitate to take what they can during this war we fight. And a lot of people will die from them too."
"No one really wins in a war, do they?"
"No. Not usually. However, we fought, we gave our all, to win the independence from Mexico. And we won. But it cost dearly. It made instant heroes of the men from the Alamo. Mexico had more men, Texas had better sharpshooters. I don't want to see Texas in this battle. It hasn't been that long since we won our independence." He shifted his weight and looked at her, a smile on his lips. "Do I bore you with this talk of war?"
"No, some men think women do not want to hear of it, but we must. We are in this too. And it's much easier to think, if you know some of the details about it."
"Yes, you are in it," he agreed. "This war is a war of arrogance and pride. It won't be won easily. The first real battle will prove what I'm saying. Many, many lives will be shed. And the first time someone looks around them and sees a sea of bodies, it will hit them, that the price of war is much too high. Some of them will be family. When the battle of the Alamo was fought, those men knew they would die if they stayed, yet they did stay, for Texas. We are a proud people because of that one battle. And strangely enough, what we call Texans were men from all over this country and men from other countries that lived and died for the word…. Freedom. It's the same as when we fought England for this country. That was a bloody war too, but I gotta admit, that was worth it."
"I can't imagine that kind of bravery. To stand up and die for something you believe in so strongly."
"That's why we hold it so dear."
"Is it too late? Can't they stop this madness?"
"Yes, it is too late. They've talked too much now. When secession began, this community voted 48-0 against it. Other forts voted the same. Even the enlisted felt strongly about the Union. Except El Paso they voted for it. It carried as the majority. Naturally, if they left, it would leave this country wide open to the Indians once more. When they left with Captain Blake leading them, they
cut down the flagstaff and took as much as they could. There weren't enough animals to carry all that needed to go. So much was left behind. Some of the settlers joined them. Colonel Reeve took command of the men marching toward San Antonio. I hope they made it safely, as there were a lot of them from this fort."
"What do you mean, safely. Weren't they called to leave?"
"Yes, but that doesn't mean the Confederate might not overtake them. They are on Confederate land and the war has begun, so it's legal. Small skirmishes will break out everywhere, and many will die. I truly believe Lincoln wants peace, but a house divided against itself….it won't work, and he knows it. It will take a war and many deaths to make men understand what they have done. When it's over they'll see the destruction, they caused. But nothing can change the loss of life, the loss of family. And when it's over, there will be people who make money off that too."
"You paint a dismal picture…"
"Don’t fret too much, I was just blowing off some steam. You women will be taken care of, somehow."
"I don't want to be taken care of," she exclaimed, "I want to end this senseless war…."
He came closer now, standing before her, a sad smile crossed his face. His hand reached to gently stroke her tear-stained cheek. She didn't pull away or act as though she wanted to. "It's too late. But it's a very noble thought." He murmured.
She stared into his eyes as another tear rolled down her cheek.
"Don't worry," He whispered. As his gaze went over her hungrily. "I'm not about to let anything happen to you!" His voice lowered to a whisper, as his eyes searched her out.
The way he said, "you", made her think he meant only her, and it sent a strange tingle through her to think he might personally care about her. It wasn't the time to have feelings and emotions like this, but she couldn't help it.
Their eyes locked onto each other for a moment, and she moved her cheek toward his hand slightly, as she hungered for his touch. With any other man, she'd be ashamed to feel so much from just a look, but she saw what was in his eyes.
The tenderness in his gaze made her breath hitch.
Swept up in his gentle promise, Jennifer tried to smile back at him.
When he smiled again it warmed her heart so. She couldn't voice her feelings. All she could do was stand there. The moment was electrical. They stood motionless, and yet the connection was clear. Her heart filled with sudden hope. His thumb wiped a tear away from her rosey cheek, and then he walked off as though it never happened.
But it had! He had touched her, ever so gently, and it had been as full of meaning as a kiss.
Jennifer stood in silence, wondering at what had just passed between them. Had she imagined his compassion? Was she blowing things out of proportion? She didn't think so. He seemed to will her his strength. Just that slight touch to her cheek reassured her somehow that things would work out and she felt a renewed strength awaken in her, as though his strength became hers.
She realized she was a fighter, not a quitter. Whatever it would take, she would endure. Because she was fast becoming a part of this land, this people, this man!
Chapter Eleven
The stark loneliness of the prairie led many of the soldiers bored and depressed. They had to devise their own way of enjoyment.
The men had built a theater some time ago and now even the Confederates indulged in play acting to entertain.
It was warming up now, but not hot. The sun came up early and rested in the west late. In the evenings it was very cool.
Fort Davis was famous for its mild weather. Other parts of Texas could be treacherous, from tornadoes in the spring, to drought in the summer, and ice in the winter.
Around the thirty-first of May, an old Apache Indian chief came to the fort. Chief Espejo was claiming to be over one hundred and six years old. He brought two elderly Indian women with him. The were colorfully dressed, and the chief wore all his feathers and beads. The old chief spoke fluent Spanish and when Captain McAllister got a translator they talked for some time. The old chief related about his past with the Spanish and the Comanche who controlled all the area east of the Pecos River. Chief Espejo said his people were no longer strong anymore.
Because he came peacefully, and related so many interesting stories, McAllister was pleased and prepared a great party for the old chief. Music was played by some of the soldiers, and there was dancing with the women. Fresh deer meat was cooked on a spit outside, and for once the women seemed to enjoy it.
Quirt asked Jennifer to dance and as he glided her over the floor, war was forgotten for a short while. In Quirt's arms she found comfort.
However, she didn't want to assume too much, as she still didn't know him well enough.
Lost in his arms for long lingering moments, she clutched his arm tightly, as he looked into her eyes. "Did you attend many dances back in New York."
It was small talk, but Jennifer didn't mind. "A few."
"I imagine they were in grand ballrooms though." He smiled.
"Some, yes."
"Tell me, is there someone waiting for your return back in New York? You've never said."
She stared into his eyes, "No, unless you count my father."
"Surely you had a crowd of beaus." He prompted.
"No, I didn't. As I'm sure you're aware, I was quite a tom-boy."
"That wouldn't discourage all men. Your young, beautiful, and well read."
"My mother is ill, and I have a younger brother who has been sick a lot. I took care of them mostly." She told him. "And I'm too tall, most men feel intimidated with a tall woman."
"No time, huh?"
"I have three older sisters, all of them married with children. I was the youngest."
"I'm sorry your folks are ill?"
"Yes."
"What happened?" He asked softly.
"She has a tumor, inoperable, and has had complications from it. My brother had scarlet fever as a child and had complication from that."
"I'm sorry."
"And you?"
"My parents are dead; my folks were butchered by the Comanches."
"Oh my, then why did you become a scout…of all things?"
He smiled wanly, "To find their killers."
"And," she hesitated a step, "Did you find them?"
"No… and it's probably best I didn't."
"How old were you when they were killed?"
"Eleven."
"So very young, but you were there… you saw them being killed?" She frowned with worry.
"Yes, we were hidden in the bushes, not far from the house. I had two sisters and a brother. I watched, as they drug my mother out, killed her and scalped her. I held a hand over my sister's mouths, so they wouldn't scream. My father staggered out some minutes later, but he was dead too."
"How terrible for you. And yet, today, you can speak with the Indians without remembering?"
"No, I always remember. But I have let go of the hate, as a padre took me and my siblings into his parish and raised us. I learned to forgive with his help. I became a Christian while I was there as did my two sisters and brother." He explained.
"You were fortunate to have someone take you in like that."
"Yes, I was."
"What happened to your siblings?"
"My brother became a merchant. Last I heard he was in Georgia. My sisters married and settled near the village where we were raised, one married a Mexican, they have five children. The other became a schoolteacher and married a sheriff later, they have a baby now."
"Are they in Texas?"
"Yes, down in Brownsville."
After several dances and some refreshment, he took her by the hand and guided her outside into the cool night air.
"I haven't danced in ages," she laughed.
"Neither have I. I don't usually dance."
"Then I'm flattered, that you ask me." She smiled. "It's a nice change, but it won't last will it?" she asked.
"Moonlight becomes you, and I promise we won'
t talk of war tonight." He whispered as he came near. "There will be plenty of that kind of talk later. This is their war, and women can help, but they should try to live their life with some semblance of normal."
"Alright, suits me. You flatter me. You must realize by now that Sylvia is a much better dancer, I'm surprised you didn't ask her to dance. All the soldiers wanted a turn."
"She seems quite taken by one Corporal Hayes. Besides, I like the fact that your head fits right on my shoulder and I don't have to bend so much to do this…"
And then he kissed her.
It was a soft, exploring kiss, not meant to raise the temperature but when she responded readily, he took her fully into his arms.
There was a moan when his tongue shot out to open her lips up to him. Jennifer didn't hesitate to comply. She clung to him for long lingering moments. She'd been courted by men, but she'd never been kissed so boldly before. Quirt swept her off her feet.
Wrapped in each other's arms, they didn't hear the approaching Indian who stood in front of them.
Pulling away reluctantly, Quirt's eyes opened, and he studied the Indian before him. He hadn't let go of Jennifer yet though.
"I am the Chief Nicholas of the Mescalero tribe. I have come to offer my daughter in marriage to your soldier."
Quirt studied him closely, "Which soldier?"
"I do not know his name. He has yellow hair, and he has been to our camp several times to pay court."
"I see, come along with me…" Quirt excused himself from Jennifer and led the Indian to Captain McAllister. Jennifer was curious and followed behind them.
The Captain was shocked, but the young soldier stepped up quickly to acknowledge the chief and his visits with the chief's camp.