Desert Hearts

by Marjorie Farrell

“Yet you found him attractive?” said Mrs. Gray in a puzzled voice.

  “No, no, I mean I didn’t with Thomas. Feel the same.” Elizabeth was twisting a pair of gloves into a knot and Mrs. Gray gently removed them, sat down on the bed, and pulled Elizabeth down next to her.

  “So you desire your new husband in a way you didn’t Thomas Woolcott?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “I feel so ashamed.”

  “Nonsense, my dear. It is natural that Sergeant Burke should awaken these feelings in you.”

  “But I loved Thomas.”

  “Of course you did. And sometimes, when we are lucky, love and desire go hand in hand. The colonel and I have been lucky that way. But it is not disloyal to Thomas to feel differently about Michael Burke.”

  “But Thomas was so loving to me, so good, and I couldn’t give him this,” protested Elizabeth.

  Mrs. Gray patted her hands. “Yes, he took care of you very well, my dear. And you were grateful and gave him your love in return. And were an affectionate wife, I am sure?”

  Elizabeth nodded and whispered, “But that was all I was.”

  “Well, perhaps that was all Thomas Woolcott wanted. And perhaps,” she added gently, “he did not know how to awaken your desire.”

  “He was a wonderful husband,” Elizabeth started to say, and then remembered the nights that Thomas would roll over and leave her there, wanting something. Something Michael had known exactly how to give her.

  “It is hard when someone has gone, to remember what he was lacking. Thomas may not have been looking for a passionate response from you, but I would think Sergeant Burke is very different.”

  “I thought so last night, but this morning he told me that he would not…uh, initiate anything. He didn’t want to rush me, and he feared he had last night because I cried for Thomas afterward.”

  “A sweet, chivalrous response, my dear,” said Mrs. Gray with a smile. “A bit foolish, but then he is young,” she added, getting up. “So you will wait, of course. I can see that. Well, perhaps it will give you both time to get to know one another better.”

  Elizabeth stood up and Mrs. Gray’s tone became more serious. “But you’d better not wait too long, Elizabeth. The new commandant, Colonel Chavez, is a New Mexican. He and Christopher Carson are not going to give the Navajo much time. Your husband will soon be very busy and quite possibly in danger. Things are different in the army, Elizabeth, you know that. In civilian life, you would have had a year of mourning and perhaps a year of courting. But you are not a civilian, and you don’t have that kind of time,” she said, closing her trunk. “There, I’m ready.”

  “Oh, Janet, I don’t know what I’ll do without you,” Elizabeth cried.

  The colonel’s wife opened her arms, “I will miss you too, dear. You have been like a daughter to me.”

  When they separated, the colonel’s wife dabbed at her eyes with a crumpled handkerchief and then gently patted Elizabeth’s cheeks dry. “I’ve been crying off and on all morning, so this is all wet and almost useless.” She laughed! “I hate leaving,” she added fiercely. “Charles has worked so hard and Carleton is out to ruin everything.”

  “What do you think will happen?”

  “They want this country, my dear, and. they are going to get it. In all my time with the army, I have yet to see a tribe keep their land. The Navajo will end up at Bosque Redondo.”

  All of a sudden, Elizabeth’s troubles seemed quite small. What were her problems compared with what was happening around her? She had not been able to imagine going back East when Thomas died, for the red rock country had claimed her. And she was only a newcomer to this land. What must it feel like to be Antonio or Serena? How could they even think of leaving?

  “Do you think some will try to stay?”

  Mrs. Gray nodded. “I am sure Manuelito will never give in.”

  “He’ll fight?”

  “And be overcome. I am glad, at least, that if we couldn’t stop it, we won’t be a part of it.”

  * * * *

  The post band played “Garry Owen” softly as the colonel bade good-bye to his troops and officers, and then a more rousing rendition of the “The Girl I Left Behind Me” as he and his wife rode through the gates.

  “Sure, and they are happy enough to use an Irish tune and Irish men for their killing, aren’t they, Mahoney.”

  “Mahoney, sir,” said the boy with a grin.

  “But ‘No Irish need apply’ when a man is looking for work,” Michael continued bitterly.

  Mahoney looked over at Michael curiously. He had never heard his sergeant be anything but spit-and-polish army.

  “Are you disappointed that the colonel has been transferred. Sergeant Burke?”

  “He is a man who acts humanely, whatever his orders, Corporal. And he is a career soldier. Our new commanding officer, Colonel Chavez, is only from the New Mexico Volunteers and so are the troops he is bringing. All any of them is interested in is removing the Navajo from their land.”

  “But this is all United States land now, Sergeant,” said Mahoney. It was a statement, not an argument.

  “And isn’t that just what the English were saying when they came to Ireland, lad? Pushing us all off the land we had lived on for centuries. When a people have been in a place for so long, when the very dirt and air and water of it are in your cells, then you belong to the land, not the land to you.” Michael looked over at Mahoney, who looked like he was trying to understand. “Ah, you were born in the great city of New York and you don’t know what I am talking about, do ye? All I know, lad,” said Michael, more calmly, “is I have been doing this too long.”

  * * * *

  It was his first night coming home to Elizabeth after a day of regular duty and only his second in a real house and not the barracks. The lamps were lit, the stove was hot, and Elizabeth had prepared a delicious meal, if the smells coming from the kitchen were to be trusted.

  “ ‘Tis lovely,” said Michael as he scraped his boots and hung up his coat.

  “Is that you, Michael?” Elizabeth called from the kitchen.

  He almost answered “Yes, my love” but caught himself just in time. “ ‘Tis indeed.”

  Elizabeth emerged carrying a bowl of stew and a plate of homemade bread.

  “Let me just wash up, Elizabeth,” he said, thinking how lovely she looked, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the kitchen stove.

  When he came back, hands clean and hair slicked back, she was sitting at the table.

  “How was your day, Elizabeth,” he asked politely as he sat down.

  “I helped Mrs. Gray finish her packing, Michael. I will miss her,” she added, her eyes filling up.

  “She was a great friend to you, I know. And we will all miss the two of them.”

  “I think underneath her sadness, she was almost glad to be leaving, Michael. She said if they couldn’t prevent what will happen, they are happy not to be part of it.”

  “I think the colonel and his lady are surely the lucky ones. The Ute and the New Mexicans have been trying to get rid of the Navajo for years and now Carleton is going to give them their chance.”

  “And there is no hope of making one more attempt at a peaceful settlement?”

  “They don’t want a peaceful settlement, Elizabeth, if they ever did.”

  “I have always loved the army, Michael. It has been my home for eight years. The only home I have had as a grown woman. I never questioned much before now. I saw Thomas’s job as keeping the peace. But Serena and Antonio are my friends…our friends,” she added shyly. “How can we stand by and let them be driven off their land?”

  “I don’t like it any better than you do, Elizabeth.”

  “And the army is even more of a home to you, Michael.”

  “It has given me a job I am good at, and home and friends, I’ve been lucky up until now. I’ve been in skirmishes, Elizabeth, but I have not had to be part of a full-scale war before.”

  “Will there be much fighting?” she ask
ed, suddenly remembering Mrs. Gray’s words to her.

  “In a fight, Elizabeth, you forget your moral qualms, if ye ever had any,” he said with a sad smile. “You get caught up in it, you can’t do anything but react to whatever is coming at you. I’d hate to be fighting Manuelito and his people, but ‘tis what I’m trained to do. What I fear, muirneach, is that this will be a very different kind of war. If Carson is as smart as they say he is, he won’t be doin’ what all the others have done: seeking a fight and wondering where all the Indians disappeared to. He’ll go after their fields and stock, if he’s anything like they say he is. He’ll starve them out, is what I am afraid of.”

  Elizabeth reached out her hand and put it on top of his. “We are husband and wife now, Michael. And we are friends. We must try to be each other’s home,” she said softly, afraid to lift her eyes to his.

  Elizabeth’s words went straight to his heart and Michael turned his hand over and grasped hers.

  “Thank you, Elizabeth,” he whispered, stroking her fingers with his thumb.

  They finished their dinner in silence and after Elizabeth finished the washing up, spent an hour in the parlor, Elizabeth knitting and Michael trying to read.

  “Em, have ye ever read Mr. Dickens, Elizabeth?” he asked, looking up from his battered copy of Nicholas Nickleby.”

  Elizabeth lifted her eyebrows. “Why, yes, I have. Is that whom you are reading?”

  “Ye sound surprised.”

  Elizabeth blushed. “Why, no.” She paused. “Well, yes, I confess I am. I suppose I didn’t expect an enlisted man….”

  “Ye mean an uneducated Irishman….”

  “Truly, I didn’t mean that, Michael.”

  “I am only teasing ye, Elizabeth. Not all enlisted men or Irishmen are illiterate, ye know. Anyhow,” he said, putting the book down, “I’ve read this one so many times and I never get any further….”

  “Why, which one is it, Michael?”

  “Nicholas Nickleby. Em, ye see, I’ve only got the first volume to read and I know it by heart. There are not too many booksellers on the plains, I am afraid!”

  Elizabeth looked over at Michael’s book. The leather cover was worn, exposing the cardboard underneath, and the pages looked soft, almost tissue thin. She thought back to her own school days, when she had never heard anything but “Watch out for the dirty Irish children,” and was once again ashamed of herself. Michael’s book was obviously a treasured possession and his hunger for the written word almost palpable to her.

  “Not everything of mine was destroyed by the Comancheros, Michael. My father brought his books with him and I saved a few. I haven’t unpacked completely, but I think I have the three volumes of that book.” She hesitated. “Thomas wasn’t fond of reading, but my father used to read aloud to us in the evenings. It would be nice to do that again. That is, if you would enjoy it?”

  “ ‘Twould be heaven,” said Michael with a smile that lit up his face.

  Elizabeth set her knitting down. “Tomorrow night, then.” She cleared her throat. “Today was a long day, and I think I am ready for bed.”

  “I’ll be joining ye soon. After I bank the fire.”

  She was in bed by the time he had finished with the stove, her back turned away from him. He crawled in and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek and then turned away himself. “Good night, muirneach,” he whispered.

  Elizabeth lay awake for a while. She could feel the warmth of his body and hear his breathing, which became soft and regular after a few minutes. Obviously he wasn’t suffering from thwarted desire, the way she was. She wanted him. But she couldn’t, for the life of her, show it so soon again. At the same time, she could hear Mrs. Gray’s words, “Don’t wait too long, Elizabeth. Don’t wait too long.”

  Chapter Thirty-two

  The hostilities started slowly and gathered momentum. Kit Carson, who had acted as agent for the Ute, hired the best warriors and Mexican guides from Abiquiu and by early June raids on Dinetah were being led out of Cubero and Cebolleta as well. Slave traders, claiming to be part of “volunteer” companies, captured and sold several hundred Navajo women and children. One of them was Serena’s niece.

  “What will happen to her, Antonio?” Serena’s throat was hoarse from crying and she was exhausted from the night she had spent attempting to comfort her sister and brother-in-law.

  “She will become someone’s servant. If she is lucky, the family will treat her well. If she is very lucky, someday they will release her. Perhaps someday someone will even marry her.”

  “But she was to have married the son of Left Hand this spring!”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t know if I can bear it. It reminds me too much of our own daughter.”

  Antonio sat beside her and pulled her into his arms. “You must rest,” he said, putting his hand on her belly. “You can’t do any more for your sister. She will have to live with this the way we have. What is important now is our new child.”

  “And where will he or she be born, husband? At Bosque Redondo?” Serena asked bitterly.

  “Never. I promise you that. Our daughter will open her eyes upon Dinetah.”

  “So you think it will be a daughter?”

  “I hope so. Not to replace our lost one,” he added.

  “No, I understand you. And I feel the same. I hope for a daughter too. May Changing Woman give my niece strength,” she murmured.

  “May Changing Woman bring us all strength, wife. Chavez has given us until July twentieth to come in. After that, any Diné who is not willing to go to Bosque will be considered hostile.”

  “You can tell that Colonel Chavez and Rope Thrower that I am already hostile,” said Serena, her anger taking over from her grief.

  “That is what I have always loved about you, wife. Your spirit. You would have made a fine warrior,” he teased. “Like the women of the Indeh.”

  “I will fight next to you if need be, husband, you know that.”

  “For right now, why don’t you lie here next to me, and get some sleep,” he said, drawing her down against him.

  They lay there quietly, Antonio’s hand resting on her slightly swollen belly. “Our daughter must be tired too,” he whispered. “She is being quiet.”

  Serena nodded.

  Antonio reached under his wife’s dress and stroked the soft skin of her belly. “You are as round and tight as a little drum,” he whispered.

  “Soon I will be more like a giant melon,” she joked. “Too big to lie with.” It felt good to have him stroke her and she gave a little sigh of pleasure. Antonio brought his other hand around her and cupped her belly, pressing her close against him. Then his left hand wandered between her legs and he began to stroke her there too.

  Serena could feel him hard against her buttocks and started to turn toward him.

  “No, no,” he murmured into her ear. “Let me pleasure you.”

  So she let herself relax against him as he gently brought her to climax. He was her husband and all male and she could feel him stiff against her. But as much as he was husbanding her he was also mothering her, holding her and their unborn child in his hand as she sobbed out her release against him.

  “Go to sleep, wife,” he finally whispered, and after a few minutes of blessed peace, she did.

  But Antonio lay awake, considering their options. A few Diné had begun to surrender, reasoning that there were too many bilagaana to fight. They would be pushed onto the reservation anyway, so why not go of their own free will?

  “But you are not free,” Manuelito and Barboncito had told them. “How can you be free away from Dinetah?”

  But the words of the headmen could not overcome the hopeless resignation of those first to go.

  Antonio knew that soon more and more would join them. He would not. He could not. He would follow his uncle. Disappear into the red rock canyons with his wife. They had never been defeated before, they would not be now.

  * * * *

  Antonio’s
optimism was well founded: the army had always come after the Diné with full troops, supply wagons, and large guns. Time after time they had entered Dinetah only to find their enemies had disappeared into the remote canyons of the Chuska mountains. But this time, Carleton was determined to fight differently and the soldiers were sent out in small groups carrying their own supplies with them. And they were not so much hunting Navajo as Navajo sheep, horses, and mules. There was a bounty on all livestock and money was a great motivator for the ill-paid soldiers.

  The troops at Fort Defiance were drawn in slowly. At first they only watched as Carson’s volunteers brought in Navajo livestock.

  “I wish we were out there, making money hand over fist like Carson’s men are,” said Elwell one day as they were unsaddling their horses.

  “Do ye now, Josh?” replied Michael.

  “Why, couldn’t you use a twenty-dollar bonus for a few horses, Michael?”

  “Sure and I’d love a few dollars more a month, Joshua,” he said easily. “But no use grousing about the army. We both know it too well.”

  These days Michael felt he was becoming the walking effigy of a soldier. The only place he was able to speak his mind was to Elizabeth. Despite their lack of physical intimacy, he felt closer and closer to his wife. It was a new and wonderful thing for him: to have someone of his own to come home to. To have someone who greeted him with warmth, who was truly interested in his thoughts, in his day’s work. He would sit down at the dinner table facing his wife and the cares of the day would fall away for a bit. Then later, over coffee, he would pour out his concerns. With Elizabeth to share them, he didn’t feel quite so isolated. And somehow she always knew just when they had both had enough of problems they couldn’t resolve and, opening Dickens, they would read for half an hour before bedtime.

  The first few weeks of their marriage, Elizabeth had half expected Thomas to walk through the door at night and had to hide her surprise and guilty pleasure at seeing Michael. Their routine was very familiar and yet different. Thomas would talk about his men and the other officers, it was true, but he took his orders for granted and had never questioned what the army asked him to do. As the summer wore on, Michael was becoming more and more concerned about Carleton’s policy, especially as more and more Navajo arrived at the fort on their way to Bosque Redondo.