Love's Compass

by Gade, Carla; Franklin, Darlene;

  Eliana’s tears flowed freely. “I could never despise you, Yiska. You are an honorable man.” The corner of her mouth curved. “Even if you are a half breed.” A whirlwind of laughter and tears mixed together. She leaned her chin on her clasped hands.

  Yiska enclosed her hands in his and took in her sweet, precious face. “And now we know that the shadow catcher’s daughter is also a half breed. A Comanche, you say?”

  “Yes, and that’s all I will ever know of him. But what is more important is that Papa loved me as his own, and I him.”

  Yiska look deeply into her eyes, her heart. “Your eternal heavenly Father knows all about you, and how you feel right now. At least, this is what I am learning.”

  “You’re a good student.” Eliana smiled.

  Yiska pulled her close. “I’ve had an excellent teacher. She’s quite the taskmaster.”

  After picking at her dinner, Eliana joined Yiska and the others who gathered on the porch of the trading post with their coffee. She sat to the side looking in the direction of the converging rivers, listening to their camaraderie and storytelling. Even so, she felt alone—until Chandler Robbins approached.

  “Eliana, I’m sorry about your father. He was a good friend of mine back in the infantry. But now I’m in quite a quandary. You’re no longer under his protection, and it’s highly inappropriate for me to have a single woman in such a situation on this expedition. As you know, I’ve already gone against my better judgment to keep you with us, although you have proven yourself, and I don’t regret it.”

  “Then let me stay.”

  “This goes beyond all protocol. I’m sorry, my hands are tied.” Mr. Robbins looked at Reverend Mattheson, and his eyes narrowed. “Harland, you’ll have to marry her.”

  Everyone quieted.

  Reverend Mattheson’s brow wrinkled. “Marry her? She’s like a daughter to me.”

  “I know that. I mean you’re a man of the cloth. You’ll have to perform a marriage ceremony.”

  Eliana stood and stomped her boot. “I am not going to be forced into a marriage, Mr. Robbins. How could you suggest something so absurd?”

  “Hold on now. Women have married for far less important reasons. If you can’t find a suitable match among the men here, then you’ll have to go back or wait here for us to return. And the latter is not advisable.”

  Eliana scanned the cadre of bachelors, all who averted their eyes. But there was one man that she’d consider as a husband—and he was looking right at her. Her face prickled with heat.

  “If you won’t marry, then I’ll have to send you home. And there is only one person capable of seeing you back safely.” Mr. Robbins looked directly at Yiska.

  “No.” Eliana planted her hands on her hips. “I cannot ask Yiska to give up his goals on my behalf.”

  “Eliana, I’ll take you, if that’s what you want,” Yiska said.

  She shook her head. “I don’t want.” What I want is to…

  “Please calm down, Eliana,” Mr. Robbins said. “Like the three rivers, it looks like you are faced with your own confluence of choices.”

  Mr. Robbins was right. The rivers flowed from various directions and she, too, must decide which way to go. She only wished someone else would make that decision for her.

  “Walk with me,” Yiska said.

  He took Eliana by the hand and headed toward the San Juan River, where he found a place for them to rest. The setting sun filled the horizon with vivid pinks, oranges, and reds. The colorful array reflected on the water, though nothing compared with Eliana’s beautiful soul.

  “It’s so serene here. I wish I could capture it and put my thoughts to rest.” Eliana faced Yiska. “I don’t want to go back. I’ve made such progress with the photography on this trip. I want to see the project through. For my father. For me.” She lowered her chin. “Is that selfish?”

  Yiska shook his head. “Not at all. I understand. I have goals of my own to see through.”

  “And I would never want you to compromise them for me.”

  “I hope that won’t be necessary.” Yiska took some sand in his hand and let it sift through his fingers. “You know, Navajo healers create sandpaintings to help in times of grief and decision making. They draw a picture with different colored sands to reveal an answer for the troubled soul.”

  Eliana propped herself up with her arm. “Perhaps this Navajo can help me find a solution.”

  “I know you are seeking the path of God. Has He given you any insight?”

  She shifted on the dry grass. “Some.”

  “Is marriage not an option?”

  “Who would you want me to marry? Mr. Robbins? Warren Cates? Cornelius?” Eliana stifled a giggle.

  Yiska did not laugh, and his stomach tightened. “I don’t want you to marry any of them.”

  Her eyes widened. “Good, because I will only marry the one who loves me, the one whom I love.”

  The two sat in silence for several moments. Yiska drew a heart in the patch of sand in front of them. Eliana looked up at him, her hazel eyes dawning with understanding. She placed her hand over his and retraced the heart.

  One heart.

  Eliana whispered, “This is what the Lord has shown me, but I knew not how to ask.”

  “You don’t need to ask. My heart already belongs to you, Eliana. I want to be your husband and journey through this life with you.”

  Crystal tears streamed down her cheeks. Yiska placed his hand behind her head and laced his fingers through her soft, full hair. The tender kisses that he placed on her lips mingled with her tears of joy and relief.

  “We will marry tomorrow, if you’ll have me. We can tell Mr. Robbins in the morning.”

  Eliana placed her hand on his face, and it warmed him down to his boots. “I love you, Yiska Wilcox.”

  “And I love you, Eliana. I think I always have.”

  Eliana glanced down at her shirt and trousers. “I suppose it’s a good thing that I have my gingham dress along.”

  Yiska planted a kiss on her forehead. “You’ll be lovely.” Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of lace ribbon. “I’ve been meaning to give this to you for a long time now. Maybe you can wear it in your hair for our wedding.”

  “Yiska, it’s beautiful.” Eliana examined the lace. “This is from the mercantile in Del Norte. Don’t tell me you’ve had it since then.”

  Yiska gave her a sheepish grin.

  Eliana threw her arms around his neck. “Yiska Wilcox. Now you’re blushing.”

  Chapter 19

  How could a woman sleep the night before her wedding, the very day her father had died? But in the untamed southwest, deserts became sandstorms, reservoirs became raging rivers, iced peaks released avalanches, mountains buried treasure, and life went on. The rising sun greeted Eliana as she emerged from her tent and greeted the new day.

  She yawned and stretched her arms high into the sky. Having slept some, she at last relinquished her struggle when early morning light brightened her tent. She sat outside and read Mama’s Bible for over an hour, finally turning to the family record in the front pages. John Van Horn, father. Josephine Leman, mother. Eliana Esther Van Horn, daughter. Now she knew. Not only was Essie—Esther—Mama’s best friend, but Eliana’s middle name honored the mother who gave birth to her.

  She turned the page. Deaths. She needed to enter Papa’s death record. Her heart burned with sadness at the thought. The following page revealed a blank marriage certificate, and her pulse quickened. Reverend Mattheson would fill this in for her today when she became Mrs. Yiska Wilcox. Eliana Wilcox. She liked the sound of that.

  “Miss Van Horn. Eliana.” Warren Cates stared at her.

  Eliana startled. “Really, Mr. Cates, must you always sneak up on me like that?”

  “I have a solution to your dilemma,” he said.

  She closed the Bible in her lap. “Mr. Cates…”

  “Hear me out. Come with me to Chaco Canyon and be my photographer. We wil
l fully document the area and make a grand name for ourselves. Imagine the notoriety. You’ll be published in the top scientific journals. You’ll be the first woman photographer with that type of acclaim. Think of it!”

  “I will have to decline, Mr. Cates. I’ve made other plans.” I would not marry a scorpion like you in a million years.

  “What could be more important than an opportunity like this?”

  “My wedding,” she said.

  “You’ve no need to marry. You can create your own renown. You and I will make a team. And then we’ll see.”

  “I’m marrying for love, not for opportunity.”

  Mr. Cates’ face creased with frustration. “Are you intending to marry that half breed?”

  Eliana stood and crossed her arms. “I’m marrying Mr. Wilcox.”

  “For love?” Cates laughed. “What could he know about…Let me put it this way, Eliana. If you don’t come with me, his short career will be over before it even begins. I will smear his name all over—” Cates grabbed Eliana by the arm.

  Yiska, Mr. Robbins, and Reverend Mattheson walked up behind Cates. Yiska twisted the man’s arm behind his back. “That’ll be enough, Cates.”

  Mr. Robbins jabbed his finger in the man’s chest. “Let me put it to you this way. You’re off the expedition and going back the way you came. And if you dare make one disreputable remark about this fine correspondent, the Atlantic Monthly and every other magazine will have a full report from the government to discredit anything you write regarding any of the territories in these four corners, or anywhere else for that matter. Do I make myself clear?”

  Warren Cates scowled and spit on the ground missing Yiska’s boots. “Yes.”

  Mr. Robbins gave him a push. “Pack your gear and go.”

  Yiska wrapped his arm around Eliana, and Reverend Mattheson came alongside them. “I believe we have a wedding to plan.”

  Yiska bathed and readied himself for his wedding. He put on clean trousers, a fresh shirt, and combed his hair—deciding not to wear his headband. Then he knelt down and prayed to his Maker to help him to fill the role of a husband in a way that would bring honor to God and give joy to his wife.

  At the trading post Eliana waited for him with Reverend Mattheson, Chandler Robbins, and the rest of the survey team.

  Yiska greeted her with a wide smile. “I’ve come to collect my bride.” She had pinned the strand of lace in her hair. He took the end of it between his fingers and whispered in her ear, “You are beautiful.”

  A Navajo weave scarf adorned her gingham dress, and she had fastened a silver concha at the neck. She must have purchased them from the trading post.

  Cornelius handed her a fist full of desert flowers—Indian paintbrush, larkspur, fiddlenecks, and others. “Every bride needs a bouquet.”

  “How thoughtful. Thank you, Cornelius.” Eliana then eyed Yiska and pointed to the spot where her camera was all set up.

  “Mr. Robbins has agreed to take a wedding photograph of us after the ceremony. That is, if you don’t mind.” Yiska recalled the day she had taken his picture and captured his heart forever.

  Reverend Mattheson walked up to the two of them and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. “Are we ready?”

  Eliana hesitated. “We have no rings.”

  He reached into his pocket and held two gold rings in the palm of his hand. “This is your father’s wedding band. I thought you might need it.” He smiled at Yiska.

  Eliana looked at the smaller one. “And the other?”

  “I’ve carried this with me for nearly twenty years. It belonged to my wife…your mother.” Mattheson choked. “I’d be honored if you would wear it.”

  Eliana pressed her hand to her chest, and tears welled up. “The honor will be mine.” She reached out and hugged him.

  Yiska and Eliana led the procession down to the river’s edge, where they pledged their lives to one another. After they exchanged rings, Reverend Mattheson handed Eliana an earthen vessel that Yiska had obtained at the trading post. “It’s a Navajo wedding vase,” Yiska said.

  She studied it with curiosity. “It has two spouts.”

  “The bride and groom each drink water from it to symbolize two souls drawing spiritual nourishment from a single source.” His eyes penetrated hers. “Our source is Christ, the river of life. He is the sun in my shadows, the light that brightens the shadows of my past. And He has blessed me with you.”

  “And me with you.” Eliana took a sip from the vase, her glistening eyes upon him. She handed it to Yiska, and he drank from the opposite spout.

  Yiska gazed at her, memorizing the moment, the way he felt with the late afternoon sun shining down upon him…them.

  Tears of joy streamed down her cheeks and trailed over her lips. Yiska brushed light kisses over her moist mouth, sealing his love for his bride.

  Eliana knew her face was as bright as the crimson sunrise when she exited her wedding tent with her husband the morning after they celebrated their holy matrimony. How wonderful it was to lie in Yiska’s strong arms that night, reflecting on the joy of their marriage. But today was a new day, and the team would make the final leg of the journey toward Wilson’s Peak.

  The heat of the day as they rode through the desert would have been unbearable, if not for the light breeze coming off the San Juan River.

  Yiska pointed to a huge, jagged rock formation protruding out of the sand several miles away. “There it is. Wilson’s Peak. Some call it Shiprock, saying it looks like a clipper ship. But the Navajo called it Tse’ Bit’a i’, ‘rock with wings.’”

  “I can see how it got its name.” Eliana looked at the mysterious pinnacle and thought of how strange her life had become. Would they live in her house in Lake City? Could she keep the photography studio? Did Yiska want a family? “What else do you have in view, Yiska? I mean after the expedition. Will you continue to work for Mr. Whiley as a guide?” What would become of her if he was gone for many months?

  “I plan to make a home for my wife. For my children. Mr. Whiley is thinking of opening a second store in Lake City. He might let me run it, and I could also write for one of the newspapers. I have some money saved, so I hope we might keep your house and your photography studio.”

  “Oh, Yiska. Your plans are wonderful. It sounds like you’ve given them much thought.”

  “That’s what a man does.”

  “And a woman.”

  Yiska rode Shadow closer to her, leaned in, and planted a kiss on her lips.

  When they arrived near Wilson’s Peak in the late afternoon, the surveyors set up their equipment and spread out in a triangular formation at points surrounding the pinnacle. It took quite some time to complete their measurements and document the astronomical coordinates. Eliana set up a camera on its stand to photograph the massive rock and the landscape of low plateaus and interesting formations.

  By nightfall the team had settled down and gathered around the campfire. Rich blues and reds cast a luminous glow in the cloudy evening sky, creating an eerie backdrop against the great winged rock. Eliana missed Papa. She could imagine him sitting there chewing on his empty pipe, gazing up at the brilliant colors.

  Cornelius slapped his hat against his leg. “Take that!” He looked up, all eyes on him. “A sand spider.”

  “The Navajo believe that killing a sand spider can make one bald,” Yiska said. He leaned over to Mr. Robbins as he pointed to Cornelius’s balding skull. “He has killed too many sand spiders.” Laughter echoed into the night.

  “You know so much, why don’t you tell us about that fearsome rock over there.” Cornelius nodded toward the silhouette of the pinnacle.

  “All right,” Yiska said. “A long time ago, the Diné were saved from their enemies after praying to their gods for deliverance. The ground rose, and they were transported into the east and lived on top of the rock. One day during a storm, while the men were away working the fields, lightning split off the trail, and only the sheer cliff remained. The w
omen, children, and old men left on top starved. Their bodies are there to this day. It is forbidden to go there, so no one can stir up their ghosts or rob their corpses.”

  “That’s a cheerful tale,” Cornelius snickered.

  Eliana hugged her coat around her and inched closer to Yiska. “Do you know any other Navajo legends?”

  “There is another one of a large bird named Picking Up Feathers. He was the child of Diné gods, Sun and Changing Women. He lived on top of the peak and fed on human flesh. Each day he flew to Where the Mountain Went Out on Top to get men”—he leaned into Eliana’s shoulder—“but never women. He now lives in the Sun’s house.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I wouldn’t want him to come down and take you away from me so soon,” she said.

  Mr. Robbins stood and stretched. “All right, time to call it a night. Remember, we’re more exposed out here, so we’ll tighten our watch. And as you can tell, the temperature will continue to drop during the night.”

  Eliana smiled. She had Yiska to keep her warm.

  Robbins continued, “We’ll pull out at dawn and head north to Darling’s Line to locate the four corners marker.” He looked over at Yiska. “Oh, and thanks for the stories, Yiska. Let’s hope they won’t give us nightmares.”

  Four Corners – July 10, 1875

  The next afternoon Eliana marveled when they reached the Colorado–New Mexico border in such good time. She was excited to finally see the original marker that Ehud Darling set in 1868. Mr. Robbins and his crew would install a new monument in its place, a seven-foot pillar of hard sandstone, and Eliana was here to document the historical occasion. She set up her camera, this time with Yiska’s assistance. She thought it best to begin instructing him on how to handle the equipment. She’d need his help for the many hundred miles that awaited them as they continued south to survey the boundary between the Arizona and New Mexico territories.

  “Is this where you want it?” Yiska asked.

  Eliana turned around and checked the position. “Perfect. Thank you.” Beyond him she noticed Chandler Robbins talking to his assistant surveyors. He seemed disturbed, and his hands flailed in every direction as he spoke.