The Spirits of Nature

by Michelle Post

  “I know that they are safe with you. They could not have a braver man to protect them.”

  The brothers embraced each other. The tragedy they had both experienced had brought them to a new understanding of each other. It made the separation much more difficult.

  Before The Mourning Dove mounted her horse she called to her son one last time. She held out her Bible for him to see. “I want you to have this. It belonged to my mother and my father gave it to me when I left home on my journey here.” She carefully placed it in his hands. “I want you to have it and keep it in the family.”

  Strong Eagle looked at the weathered book. He could read the inscription in the front. He had grown up with this book. He had many fond memories of this book and his mother reading to him from it during the long winters. He was moved that she had entrusted it to him.

  “I will hold it close to my heart always, mother.” he promised.

  ~

  Long after they had left the camp The Mourning Dove looked back for one last time. She could see the figure of her son at the highest part of the mountain watching as they left his sight. He was holding her grandchildren. She could see Gentle Wind After The First Thunder waving. She waved back and turned knowing she would never see them again.

  ~41~

  The Journey to Hidden Meadows

  The trio had been traveling for two months. The hand of The Mourning Dove had healed well. She no longer needed bandages. The hurt in her heart was still very tender.

  Swift Fox Who Enters Quickly could see that the journey was difficult for his mother. He questioned the wisdom of this endeavor. It was his devotion to his mother and the vision she had shared with her children that kept him perusing this journey.

  It had rained for several days. The weakened state of The Mourning Dove had reduced her strength. She had seemed to have a cold that had become worse in the past several days. She needed rest. Rest she could not get while traveling. Her children were very concerned about her and did not want to lose her as well as their father. It was obvious she had lost her desire to live. When she became too weak to sit on her pony Swift Fox Who Enters Quickly made a travois for her to lie in. She did not seem to improve.

  “Tonight we will take the time to rest,” Swift Fox Who Enters Quickly told his sister.

  Sparrow Song was grateful for the attention she could give to her ailing mother.

  It was nearly nightfall when they saw a man approaching on horseback with great speed. They were instantly cautious. Their concern grew when they saw the flag flying in the wind as he carried it. He was a white man who was in a blue American army uniform. As he drew closer Swift Fox Who Enters Quickly became ready to defend his family. The Mourning Dove stopped him.

  “No, he is the one we need.”

  Swift Fox Who Enters Quickly did not understand his mother but did as she said. The Mourning Dove knew that he was one of the strangers that would help them to return east.

  The man waved his hands to let them know that he was coming in peace. “I mean you no harm,” he tried to reassure.

  When he was close enough he could see the condition of The Mourning Dove.

  “It looks as though she needs some care.”

  Not knowing whether to trust him they began to converse.

  “She is our mother, she has the fever. We do not want her to die. We are on a journey but we will rest here for a few days until she is better.”

  The young soldier was relieved that they understood and spoke English.

  “I agree that if you do not get her help soon she will die.” He surveyed the area. “I have been in these parts for some time now. I do know of a ranch about five miles from here. There is a family there that has helped a lot of traders and soldiers. I believe the name is Wainwright. The husband died last month but, I am not sure if his widow is still there. I know she was planning on selling the farm.”

  They rode the distance of approximately five miles and much to their relief saw light flickering in the small house. They could see a woman and a young man in the distance. They seemed to be very busy for this time of day. The woman was on her horse corralling the other horses. She signaled to her son.

  “Do you see that?” she asked pointing to the horses approaching.

  He nodded.

  “Let’s go and see what they need,” she commanded.

  He reluctantly followed her. When they met with the strangers the woman noticed the travois. It was apparent they had someone who might be ill. She was alarmed when she saw the condition of The Mourning Dove. She observed she was dressed as an Indian but very clearly white.

  “What happened to her?” she said looking at the ashen face of The Mourning Dove.

  “She has become sick with the fever,” Swift Fox Who Enters Quickly told her.

  The woman knew that she must act quickly if she were to save her life.

  “Let’s get her inside. She needs attention right now.”

  They rode to the house. Upon arrival, the woman sent the men out and asked Sparrow Song to help.

  “We need to undress her and get her temperature down.”

  Sparrow Song quietly did, as she was told, grateful for the help. They tended to The Mourning Dove for the remainder of the night. After several hours Sparrow Song fell asleep on the bed in the cabin. The men were sleeping in the barn.

  It was early morning before The Mourning Dove had reached a normal temperature. She began to stir. The woman was in a chair next to the bed. When she began to move the woman immediately woke.

  “You don’t need to talk. You will be okay. You were pretty sick,” she said as she wiped her face.

  This woman looked like an angel to The Mourning Dove. She had saved her life and she was grateful to not have died in route to fulfilling the prophecy. In her state of illness she seemed to recall a young man also. She immediately knew that this woman was another person that was part of the dream of Running Wolf. She had saved her life. Without the help of this sainted woman The Mourning Dove might have perished. She and her son must be the other two who would accompany them back to Boston.

  The woman’s son quietly entered the room and inquired about The Mourning Dove.

  “She will be just fine. You can tell her son so he need not worry,” the woman informed him. She was also relieved.

  The young man nodded. The Mourning Dove noticed there was tension between the young man and his mother.

  “I hope that I did not cause the problem you seem to be having with your son?” she asked.

  “Oh no, not at all,” she looked to see that he was not within hearing range. “This has nothing to do with you folks at all.” She hesitated. “It is a family matter.”

  “Oh, I see,” said The Mourning Dove understanding the situation better. “How can I ever thank you for your kindness to me and my children? Had it not been for you and the young man we met in route, I may not have lived.”

  “I am grateful to see another woman,” the stranger said to The Mourning Dove. “I have had only men to converse with for a very long time. They are the only ones to travel through these God forsaken parts.”

  “The young man who led us here said that you were recently widowed. Is that why you are leaving?” The Mourning Dove asked.

  “Yes, in the spring. Now I am free to leave a place that I have loathed for almost thirty years. Maybe I can give my son a chance to meet a nice woman and have a life of his own.”

  “I have lost my husband, too.” The Mourning Dove said. She indicated her hand to the woman. “This is a sign that I am in mourning. My husband also has a part of me until I can join him in the spirit world.”

  The woman looked on the severed hand of The Mourning Dove. She knew of this custom but could not help to comment.

  “I’d like to meet that man!” she shook her head.

  “It is obvious we did not share the same feelings about our faithfully departed husbands,” she said in a playful tone, not wanting to offend The Mourning Dove. “With all due r
espect, I gave my husband plenty, more than he deserved.”

  The stranger had a far away look in her eyes.

  “No, my situation is not the same at all.” She looked into the eyes of The Mourning Dove.

  “Can I share something with you? It is the reason that you see such anger in the eyes of my son.”

  The Mourning Dove nodded.

  “My story is a long one and very sad. I am returning to Boston to reunite my son with his father, God willing he is still alive. You see, the man who raised my boy was not his natural father.”

  “I see,” said The Mourning Dove.

  “Enough of that,” The stranger seemed to be uncomfortable with sharing more. She changed the subject.

  “You are not Indian, or at least you were not born Indian. And I can tell that you have had a formal education.”

  The Mourning Dove nodded.

  “I am on my way to Boston. I promised my husband I would return there to fulfill his prophecy.”

  The woman did not understand but respected what seemed to be a deep conviction. “Do you have an English name?”

  “I am from a family in Boston and I am returning there also.” She hesitated. “It has been so many years since I have said the name given to me at birth.” She paused for a minute. “I was born Rebecca Butler.” She paused and looked into her lap; it was odd to say that name after so many years.

  The woman was wringing out a rag to apply to The Mourning Dove’s face. When she heard what she said she dropped the rag and consequently spilled the water from the basin on her skirt.

  “You are who?” she said even though she was sure that she heard her correctly.

  The Mourning Dove knew she had said something to make this woman behave this way but she was confused as to why she would be so rattled.

  “I said that I was born Rebecca Butler.”

  “Oh, my God in heaven,” The woman exclaimed. “You do not know me but I certainly know of you.” She had tears in her eyes. “You know that boy who is so upset with me? He is your brother’s son. My name is not Emma Wainwright. My name is Molly, Molly Spencer Black. You do not know anything about me, but I know all about you!”

  Molly was almost hysterical with excitement and disbelief. “I know all about you and your childhood. How you nearly drown one time. How you decided to take a wagon train to the west with your cousin. I also know about your abduction.” She suddenly became very somber. “I know how you chose to stay with the man you loved when you had the chance to return home.”

  She recalled the day she learned this. It was also the day of the shooting. She shook her head.

  “I have sold this farm. I am on my way to bring Andrew to his father. I have waited for over thirty years to do this.”

  Without permission she hugged The Mourning Dove. “You are Rebecca? I just cannot believe it!” She began to cry.

  The Mourning Dove held her as she cried. She was grateful to her for saving her life. There was more. The Mourning Dove felt very close to Molly in the short time they had spent together. Molly had a spirit that was so genuine and unpretentious.

  The Mourning Dove was confused about the series of events. How could she tell Molly that when the drifter had come to her camp he had mentioned that Philip was married and that he had a baby on the way? The Mourning Dove had thought for all these years that Philip was happily married. How could this be?

  Molly saw the look on The Mourning Dove’s face. “What is wrong?”

  “I don’t know how to start this or ask you but I am very confused.” She began to explain.

  “Many summers ago there was a drifter who was sent to find me. My father and Philip sent him across the country because they feared I had been abducted. When he came to our camp he told me that Philip was married and a child was on the way. Why is it that you two are not together anymore?”

  Molly thought for a moment and shook her head. “You mean his wife Rose.” Molly continued to explain. “It is such a tragic and long story, but I will tell you. I used to be employed at the Butler mansion. I fell in love with your brother. When your father learned of my affair with Philip I was told that he was better off without me. I was strongly persuaded to write him a letter telling him that.”

  She paused for a moment. “Oh, the foolish things we do when we think we have no other option. The end result is that there was a fisherman who began to live quite comfortably after he was in contact with Jeremiah Butler. I learned that I was pregnant shortly after I was away from your brother. I had to protect his child. I thought that if I were to marry Lester, Andrew would be taken care of. I conceded to marry him. I allowed Lester to believe that Andrew was his.”

  Molly was wiping the brow of The Mourning Dove. “Philip hired a man to find me. When the search seemed hopeless he married Rose and they were going to have a family. That was until she died tragically from small pox.”

  “In the meantime, Fletcher Stone, the man hired by your brother found me.”

  “I know of this Fletcher Stone,” The Mourning Dove said. “He was the filthy man I mentioned before.” She realized that she had interrupted Molly.

  “I’m sorry, please continue.”

  “Philip was married and was true to his wife. However, after she passed away and he learned of your life with the Indians, he came to find me.” She smiled a bittersweet smile.

  “I opened the door one day to find Philip standing there. It was bound to happen that we would remain lovers.” She shook her head. “I know this may sound very insensitive to you who have lived your life faithful to one man. I loved your brother; or rather I love your brother very much. We were torn apart because of the fact I was a mere servant.”

  Molly put the rag in the basin. “You know, had I not been convinced that Philip was better off without me I would have left the day he came to see me. I will never forget how he pleaded with me to take Andrew and run away with him. I wish I had.”

  “One day when we were together we were caught. All I can remember was the sound of the gun shot and the burning pain before I was unconscious. I was not hurt as badly as believed at first. Had it not been for the corset that I had always cursed I would not have survived. I had some damage as a woman that would prevent me from having more children.”

  She stood and displayed the scar on her abdomen.

  The Mourning Dove’s heart began to break for the pain her brother must have felt. She thought about Fletcher Stone.

  “I am surprised that he did not try to find you and Andrew?”

  Molly smiled. She did not want to hurt The Mourning Dove with the nasty truth but she deserved to know.

  “To be sure that we would never be together again Philip was told that I was dead. To make the story believable your father, as I am told, has a marker over an empty grave with my name on it.”

  Molly seemed to be living in a moment that was in the past.

  “Philip did not give up on his son,” she said proudly. “He eventually caught up with us. We were living in Virginia at the time. Lester had changed our names because he feared Philip would return. He was also a wanted man, for my murder.”

  Molly sighed. “I was so close to Philip when he found us. But, I could not cry out to him. I wanted to tell him that I was alive.”

  She looked off. “It was too late. I wished I had left with him when he came to find me in Connecticut.”

  “Lester figured out that Andrew was not his son when Philip appeared in Virginia.” She paused for a minute. “That was the only shred of decency that man had. He never told Andrew he was not his father. I would like to think he had some heart, but I really think that it was just another way of punishing me. He had taken me from Philip and now he also had his son.”

  The Mourning Dove was listening with a heavy heart. She was stunned by such a tragic story. In all her years away from Hidden Meadows she was sure that Philip was living a life that ran parallel to hers in tranquility. Her heart ached for him and the painful tragedies he had lived through.
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  She felt guilty in that moment that her life had been so full and his with such despair. She was also distressed that her father had caused so much pain. She knew when she returned home he would not be alive. She wondered when and how he died. She would have the answers to this and more once they arrived at Hidden Meadows. She wondered what else Molly could tell her.

  “What about Andrew?” she questioned. “Did my father know that he was his grandson?”

  “I cannot tell you that for sure. I know that Philip had it figured out from the beginning.” She was patting The Mourning Dove’s forehead with a cool cloth. “Does it really matter anymore? Philip and I missed all those years together. He missed seeing his son grow up. Probably the only child he will ever have. My husband let me know that he took his manhood, when he tried to kill him. He liked to remind me of that quite often.” Molly looked very somber. “He reminded me daily of my sin. He felt as though he had served justice by hurting Philip in that way.”

  Molly laughed ever so slightly. “If he only knew the times I closed my eyes and thought about Philip.” She looked away as though she was deep in thought. “How very odd that you would show up here, today, had it been later this week you would have not found us here. I was leaving to take Philip his son.”

  The Mourning Dove knew that it was not fate. There was no such thing. She was fulfilling the prophecy for Running Wolf and all things were falling into place, just as he told her they would.

  Night had turned to day and the men were in from the barn and looking for food. Things had been too hectic the night before for The Mourning Dove to notice. Now, in the morning light her son who always reminded her of Philip was standing beside Andrew. Except for the distinct darker coloring of Swift Fox Who Enters Quickly they looked as though they could pass for brothers. She wondered if Molly had seen the same similarity.