A Necessary Woman

by A. E. Easterlin

  He loved her, too, though he hadn’t said the words but in other ways demonstrated his affection. A glance, a smile, a warm touch. If only she could have his child, her life would be perfect. She could be completely happy.

  The ranch hands built some low tables and benches suitable for the children to use as desks. The men were as excited about the school as the mothers and Suzanna. Every father hoped for a better life for his child. An education could open doors that had heretofore been closed to them. They worked with smiles on their faces and gratitude in their hearts. And Suzanna became precious—and yes, necessary—to the people on Cantrell lands.

  One morning, she brought her coffee and sat on the top step of the entrance to her school. It was going to be a hot day, and she wanted to take advantage of the cooler temperatures early in the day. Closing the door, she glanced up and watched a bird soaring high in the blinding Wyoming sky. He flew in circles and eights, free and joyful. She grinned at his playing and laughed. Happy. Content.

  Something caught her eye. A feather lying on the ground near the bottom step, almost as if it had been placed in her path. It was beautiful, perfectly preserved, an eagle’s feather. How odd it had come to rest here. She hadn’t noticed any eagles nearby—hawks, yes, they were a common sight, but not eagles. They tended to stick to the mountains, where they could hunt small rodents, rather than perusing the rolling hills filled with cattle and larger prey.

  A warning prickle rose at the back of her neck, again the sensation that she was not alone. Had someone deliberately left the feather here for her to find? Was someone watching her?

  Her peace in the morning broken, Suzanna hurried back to the house. She laid the feather on a table near the door to the kitchen and went in to help Martha with lunch preparations.

  The women chatted and worked. She had no enemies here, only friends. She was safe; no one would dare hurt the boss’s wife. Surely it was her imagination.

  Jake joined them for lunch, his smile fading at the sight of the eagle feather. She stopped rolling her pie dough as he picked it up and rolled it in his fingers.

  “Where did you find this?” he asked, his expression grim.

  Suzanna glanced at the feather, then at Jake’s concerned face. “I found it on the ground by the steps to the school this morning. Why? Is something wrong?”

  “We don’t see many eagles at this elevation. They mostly roost up in the mountains. You say it was on the ground by the school?”

  “Yes, I thought it odd myself. It was almost as if someone placed it there. And Jake, I’m sure it’s nothing, but a few times when I’ve been working there, I’ve gotten the strangest feeling someone was watching me. I intended to tell you before now, but it slipped my mind.”

  Martha paused in her pastry-making to stare at Jake. The look they exchanged made Suzanna suspicious. “What?”

  Jake shrugged. “An eagle’s feather has significance to Indians. A sign of high regard. A symbol of authority or a gift meant to convey favor. They present them as tokens of respect and affection. You say you think someone’s been watching you?”

  “I haven’t seen anyone, Jake. It’s only a feeling.”

  “Yes, but there’s the feather.”

  Martha wiped her hands on a towel. “Suzanna, you best steer clear of the school for a while. Let Mr. Jake and Pete have a look around. No use taking any chances. We haven’t had any Indians near here since last winter, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t around.”

  “But I thought most of the natives had been relocated to reservations.”

  “Most, not all.”

  “Martha’s right. Pete and I will ride over and check it out, take a look in the woods. Meanwhile, stay close to home. This feather could mean something, and I don’t want to take any chances.”

  After their ride, Jake reported there was no evidence of Indian presence near the school that they could find. “But I don’t like this, Suzanna. I’m going to make sure someone keeps an eye on you when you go to the school.”

  “Do you think I’m in danger?” she asked, alarmed.

  “Not as long as you’re vigilant. If you see or sense anything unusual, let me or one of the boys know. I intended to head out on the fall roundup two weeks earlier than last year. The weather’s unseasonably cool, and I don’t want to leave you alone if we get an early snow.”

  “Snow? At this time of year?”

  “It would be unusual, but not unheard of. We’ll divide the herd and drive them to the train for shipment east to McKinney and north to Red Lodge. I shouldn’t be gone too long. I don’t like being away from you.”

  Suzanna laughed and teased him about becoming a soft old man.

  “I enjoy your company, Suzanna. You make me happy,” he replied.

  And Suzanna was a happy wife. The only thing that clouded her joy? No indication of a pregnancy.

  The next morning, Suzanna came down the stairs and came upon Jake and Martha deep in conversation. She stopped on the stairs, knowing she shouldn’t be eavesdropping but unable to resist.

  “I don’t know what I can do,” Jake was saying. “I hate to see her so disappointed. Suzanna was born to be a mother. I watch her with the ranch children. The way she is with those little ones? It’s a wonder. She’s got a natural, gentle manner. Really cares for them, and they know it. Hell,” he groused, “There’s something about her, an innate loving nature that draws everyone.”

  “Have you told her?” Martha asked.

  “You mean, have I tried to reassure her of her worth? Show her how much she’s come to mean to all of us? I’ve tried. Before she came, the hands did what was expected, worked their jobs, earned their wages. Now, the ranch hands, the wives, the children—we’re all one big family. This place has grown from a business enterprise into a community. She’s the heart of us, Martha. Suzanna is the glue that knits us all together. She deserves a baby. She’s a natural for it.”

  Martha patted his arm and leaned in to catch his attention. “You need to tell her. She needs to hear those words from your mouth.”

  “I’m not much for words. I show her every chance I get.”

  Her tone hardened and came out sharp. “She needs to hear it, Jake. A woman needs words. Don’t sit here and say it to me…tell her.”

  He nodded, “I know.” Silence. She peeked around the corner—both her husband and Martha stared at the table, lost in thought.

  “I married her to have a son,” Jake finally said. “To carry on my bloodline, to inherit what I’ve worked for all these years. She married me for the same thing—a child. But it just isn’t happening, and it breaks my heart to see her want it so and not to be able to give it to her. Sometimes I wonder what will happen to us if we can’t have the one thing that brought us together in the first place. Will she stay? Will she leave me for another man? One who could possibly give her what I haven’t?”

  Suzanna’s heart stuttered. Jake was as concerned as she about a babe. More importantly, he doubted her commitment to him. A burning knot formed in her chest. If her disappointment at not conceiving caused him such distress, she’d have to find a way to put his mind at ease. He had too much to do to worry about her. She wanted to be a helpmate, not a burden.

  “She won’t leave. She loves you, Jake. I’ll tell you the same thing I told her. These things happen when they happen. You said yourself it hasn’t been a year yet. Be patient. Give yourselves some time. Look at what you’ve been through. Give yourselves a chance to breathe and just enjoy each other. Knowing you, it’s not for lack of trying. Make her feel like she’s enough for you. That even without a baby, an heir, she’s the woman you choose to spend your life with. Nothing’s more rewarding than that, Jake. You make her feel secure in your love, then everything will turn out all right. Trust me.”

  “I hope you’re right, Martha. I hope you’re right.”

  Suzanna tiptoed quietly back up the stairs. She had a lot to think about.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jake kept Pet
e occupied with the cattle in the lower pastures and those ranging the prairie beyond the river, while he focused his attention on the horses. A week before the fall roundup, Jake organized a trip into the mountainous back country to bring down some wild mustangs. He had a month to gentle and train the mounts and deliver them to Fort Laramie.

  The Army had placed an order for two hundred head, and the men had their work cut out for them to bring in enough horses to supplement the existing stock. Jake worked long days and often skipped supper, too tired to eat. He fell exhausted into bed each night and was gone before Suzanna woke for the morning. She marveled at the workload and did everything she could to see to his comfort when he finally made it in each night.

  Endless work occupied the drovers and ranch hands, as well. Adding to the long hours were the food and grain preparations that needed to be done in the time remaining before winter set in. Jake stressed about the possibility of early snows and hurried the branding of new calves and the breaking of the wild horses. The ranch was a flurry of activity from sun-up to sundown, with cowhands moving quickly from one task to the next.

  Jake came to bed each night preoccupied with the demands of the ranch but never too tired or lost in thought to make love to his beautiful wife. They each craved the closeness of the other, and the passions ignited during the early days of their marriage still raged between them. The only thing that marred her happiness was…no baby.

  Suzanna knew Jake would never, in a million years, reveal his concerns. But it was always there between them. An invisible wall, impossible to ignore. Was she barren? Did the fault rest with him? Perhaps, as Martha said, it was far too soon to worry, but with the frequency of their intercourse, she had expected to be pregnant by now.

  It hurt. And Jake hurt for her—for them.

  She’d have the school to occupy her in a few weeks. She resolved to stop carrying on about it, even though it was just to herself, and concentrate on something other than babies. They’d keep trying, of course. Just as he’d intimated, the “getting” was indeed something special. Remembering his brash comments when they first met put a smile of anticipation on her face, and she felt a sudden yen to see her handsome husband and lover.

  Suzanna was inside the house wiping a cloth over the furniture—a daily necessity due to the endless amounts of dust the prairie breezes brought in. She heard Jake stomp one foot on the first step and came to greet him with a kiss. She’d been thinking of him all morning and wanted to enjoy a little of his special kind of nearness. Just as she opened the door, he wheeled toward a commotion in the yard and the startling yells from the men as they came riding up in a cloud of dust.

  ****

  Pete skidded to a halt, and slid out of his saddle. “Boss! Indians. About twenty braves riding steady, just beyond the east pasture.”

  “They all painted up?”

  “Can’t tell. They’re too far away, but the way they’re riding, this isn’t a social call.”

  “Take five men and send them to guard the back of the house and the barns. Is Martha inside with Suzanna?”

  “Yes, sir. Lon and Dusty are warning the women in the cottages to stay inside and bar the windows and doors. We haven’t had any trouble with Indians since you let Black Hawk and his tribe camp out down by the river last year. I can’t see them being hostile, but with Indians, you never know. They’re all stirred up about the government ordering them onto reservations.”

  Jake grabbed the reins from Pete and had one foot in the stirrup when the native riders came into view, a tall man with about twenty braves and a smaller figure in the background. Jake dismounted and waited cautiously for them to approach. The women were secure, and the house was surrounded by his men; there was nothing more that could be done if they’d come intent on mischief. He rested his hand on the stock of the Remington secured in Pete’s scabbard.

  Black Hawk.

  As the Indian came closer, Jake noticed a small woman holding a baby riding behind the chief. Highly unusual—women always stayed in camp doing the endless chores while the men hunted.

  Or made war.

  Black Hawk halted about three feet in front of him, his dark gaze on Jake. Urging his mount closer, he stopped, glaring down at him. No friendly welcome—this was not a social visit. The Indian had something on his mind, and it wasn’t good.

  A cold fist of dread lodged in his belly. His gaze swung between Black Hawk and the woman with the baby. Frowning, he briefly studied the woman. She seemed familiar.

  Jake schooled his features and stood his ground.

  The young mother removed the blanket hiding her face, and the ground disappeared from under his feet. Holy mother of God. It can’t be.

  The infant was tiny, tucked close to the breast of its mother. It looked to be a few months old. A sick trembling started in his bones. His eyes riveted on the child. Making lightning calculations in his mind, the fist of dread in his belly turned to lead. His legs gave way and he staggered, his astonished eyes swiveling to Black Hawk.

  Jake spared a quick glance over his shoulder toward the house. Where was Suzanna? With a dark sense of foreboding, he saw her open the door, walk out onto the porch, and wrap her arms around the rough-hewn column.

  She watched the Indians, and he sucked in a breath the moment she locked onto the woman and child. When she took a step in his direction, Martha put a restraining hand on her arm and shook her head. God, he wished she would go back inside.

  Jake felt his life slowly sinking into the dusty ground beneath him. Along with it went the love and respect his wife had begun to feel for him.

  Suzanna crossed her arms at her waist, holding in panic, watching and waiting to see what would unfold.

  There were myriads of issues he should be concerned with, but all he could think of was Suzanna. He couldn’t lose her now. Not over something like this. A mistake; a simple indiscretion. One night. It had meant nothing. But the consequences would affect them all.

  He sickened at the possibility of what this would do to her—to them.

  Black Hawk stared, cold and angry, as Jake took a step forward to stand directly before the Indian. Pete and two of his men followed as backup. Four braves flanked their leader. Four more surrounded the woman.

  Black Hawk glared, his rage and contempt evident. The muscles in his body quivered, tense, ready for action. White knuckles tightly gripped the lance held ready at his side. The fierce warrior nodded, his voice like iron as he spoke in English.

  “Jake Cantrell. Greetings to you.”

  “Greetings to you, my friend Black Hawk. Have you come to winter on my lands again? If so, you are welcome. And you are welcome to eat from my beef, if your people are hungry.”

  From the corner of his eye, Jake saw Martha step closer to Suzanna.

  “That is not why I come. Many moons have passed since we have seen you.” He gestured with his lance. “My sister, Little Bird, waited many nights for you to come for her. It is the custom of our people that when a brave enters the tepee of a maiden, she becomes his wife.”

  “I am not—” Jake began.

  “Still you did not claim her,” the warrior interrupted, raising his lance. “Little Bird grew sad. She has great shame that her husband did not want her. You have been good to my people. You gave us food for our bellies and a place to camp without fear. We do not forget such things. That is why you are alive. But there is a child. And Little Bird is not well since it was born.”

  Jake resisted the guilt slugging through his veins. There was no doubt where this was going.

  Little Bird was not his wife. Suzanna was his wife. “I am not an Indian or bound by Indian custom or law. No words were spoken in front of a minister.”

  He spared a glance at Little Bird. She struggled to remain upright on the pony she rode. Something was wrong.

  He was wrong. But when she came to him, he hadn’t refused. He was lonely, and it had been a long time since he had been with a woman. And Little Bird was beautiful and warm and
willing.

  Little Bird held his child, his baby. No need for equivocation. Both men knew the child belonged to him. Panic grabbed his chest, and a great pain seized his heart. His blood turned to ice.

  This could mean the end of everything he had with Suzanna.

  “There was no marriage with Little Bird. She knew this.” Jake waved his hand toward the woman. The woman who had borne him a child. He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat.

  “No matter, Jake Cantrell.” Black Hawk’s lip curled over his teeth. “You can see she is not well. The gods have decided Little Bird will soon go home to the Great Father. You will be free of the wife you did not want. She asked only that I bring her to you before she dies. Do you see this child with silver eyes?” His voice dripped with hate.

  Jake’s voice cut through the tension-filled silence. “I see, Black Hawk.”

  “I bring him to you.”

  Pete growled low under his breath. The four men standing with him slowly moved their hands nearer their gunbelts. The Indian formation tightened as Jake became aware of the restless pawing of the horses’ hooves, of men shifting uncomfortably in the saddle, and of the footsteps approaching a short distance away.

  God. No.

  Suzanna.

  He couldn’t bear the thought of hurting her, losing her, but he knew, as surely as this child was his, a terrible change was coming to their relationship. She would hate him being with another woman.

  And the child? The irony tortured him. Suzanna wanted a child more than anything. His child. And she’d been unable to conceive. Now a child bred in lust, not love, was presented at her doorstep, half white, half Indian.

  Nausea rumbled in his gut.

  Black Hawk inclined his head. “It was Little Bird’s request that I bring your son to you, that he be raised among the white man. My people are moving to the north, away from our home and the death this land brings. You whites have killed us all—our women, our children. You burn our tepees, steal our horses, take our lands. You kill buffalo for sport and leave the flesh to rot in the sun while we starve. We will not live like a herd of animals. Reservation life kills the spirit of my people. I will take us to a place where we can live as our forefathers taught us, while some of us yet remain.