To Tame A Rebel

by Georgina Gentry

  “Where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere.”

  Tommy grinned. “You know we got a little pay, and some of the men wanted to shoot dice.”

  “No wonder you always have money,” Jim snapped. “I wish you’d spend more time on soldiering and less time gambling.”

  “I hate the army,” Tommy reminded him. “I wouldn’t even be here if Mother hadn’t insisted I enlist with you.”

  “We’ve had this discussion before,” Jim said.

  “When the war is over, I’m not going back to that miserable ranch. I’m moving to a big city and marry a pretty girl who wouldn’t look at me if I was just a poor rancher.”

  Jim didn’t answer. His mind went to the girl he’d fallen in love with, and he hated her for it. What future was there with a whore who might also be a spy?

  Tommy shook his head. “Jim, can’t you see the South is losing? We ought to desert and go over to the Union side like Will did.”

  Will. His beloved brother. Absently Jim began to scratch the sign of the Keetoowa in the dirt. “I’m sure Will did it out of principle.”

  Tommy snorted. “You’d never believe anything bad about him, even if you end up shooting at each other. Just because you’re guided by principle doesn’t mean anybody else is. Money and power are what make the world go around.”

  “Amen to that.” Captain Big Horse joined them.

  Tommy snapped to attention and saluted, but Big Horse motioned him down. “At ease, soldier.” He looked at Jim. “The kid may be right, Jim. We don’t own any slaves, so we’ve got no stake in this war. Have you given any thought to going over to the Yankees?”

  “Never,” Jim said. “I believe General Lee and his cabinet. If we can’t trust they’ll set up an all-Indian state, the tribes are doomed.”

  The mixed-blood Cherokee, Clem Rogers, sauntered up just then. “Who’s doomed?”

  “Anyone who doesn’t support the Union, I fear,” Captain Big Horse laughed.

  Clem frowned. “That may well be.”

  Jim shook his head. “I disagree. My brother Will is a fool to trust the Yankees. That doesn’t matter now. I reckon we’d all better get ready to move out.”

  Clem nodded. “Orders are that we leave at dawn.”

  General Stand Watie and General Douglas Cooper led their ragged, motley troops east toward Fort Smith, Arkansas. On July 27, a little group of Choctaws and Texans under Colonel Gano forged ahead and attacked a small force of Yankees at Massard Prairie, a few miles from the fort.

  Waiting in the distance for the main attack as the surprised Yankees retreated toward Fort Smith, Jim Eagle watched impatiently. “We should have hit them with everything we’ve got,” he muttered to Tommy, sitting his horse at Jim’s elbow. “Now they’ll know we’re coming.”

  “They might anyway,” Tommy said.

  Jim looked at him sharply. “Why do you say that?”

  The younger man shrugged. “Captain Big Horse seems to think they might be tipped off.”

  Jim frowned. “I don’t know who would do that unless. . .” He didn’t finish. One did not accuse a superior officer of treason lightly. “Never mind. Be careful, Tommy, when we go in. You’ve never been in a big battle before, and—”

  “I know,” the other snapped. “I can take care of myself without any help from you.”

  “I’ll forget you’re being arrogant to a superior officer,” Jim warned. “That’s a major offense, you know.”

  Tommy said, “We won’t always be in the army, and someday you and Will will treat me with more respect.”

  “Sure, kid. Now, fall back in the ranks. The troops are getting ready to move out. Unfortunately, those Yanks that got away will alert them at the fort.”

  “Then why are we bothering to attack?”

  Jim sighed. “Because there’s supplies and plenty of horses there, and we need both.”

  As Jim had warned, when the combined Southern forces finally attacked Fort Smith on July 30, the Union troops were well prepared. It was a pitched, fierce battle with shells whistling and men screaming as they were hit by cannon fire. Horses whinnied and bolted, throwing riders to the ground. Gunsmoke hung black on the hot air, so that dying men choked on the acrid scent. Sometimes in the heat of this battle, Jim was not sure where the enemy was. He was fearful of getting cut off from his men and trapped behind enemy lines, but he was more afraid that his younger brother might be killed or badly wounded.

  Jim made sure he kept Tommy close, to protect him, but Tommy was too terrified to fight. He seemed to panic and, with some of the others, turned his horse as the battle intensified. It was clear now the Southern forces were being slaughtered, driven back. Jim yelled at his sergeant to sound recall, and then he reined in his horse, fighting a rearguard action so that his men could retreat. They left a trail of dead and wounded, even though they fought valiantly. In the end, the weary and defeated Confederate forces straggled back toward Indian Territory.

  Jim had a minor head wound that had dripped blood down his face, but his spirit was even more wounded as his tired stallion stumbled along the road away from the fort. “We’re beaten,” he said to his younger brother, “and that was our last chance to lay our hands on Yankee supplies. I don’t know what we’ll do now.”

  Tommy looked very young and scared. “Will the Yanks come after us?”

  “I don’t know; I doubt it. There’s plenty of Yankees left in Indian Territory for us to fight, and they know it.”

  Tommy wiped gunpowder smudges from his face. “You think this will end the war so we can all go home?”

  Jim shook his head. “We’ll do what brave men do; we’ll keep fighting as long as we are able.”

  “That’s plain stupid,” Tommy said.

  “I agree with your brother.” Captain Big Horse rode up and fell into pace with them. “There’s no hope left.”

  Jim glared at both of them. “I’ll pretend this conversation never happened. We fight as long as there’s hope. God only knows what will happen to the Five Civilized Tribes if the Union wins.”

  The defeated troops straggled back west into Indian Territory. It was a long, discouraging ride without the supplies and fresh horses they’d been counting on. Jim Eagle distracted himself by remembering the Cherokee girl and the minutes of ecstasy he’d spent in her arms. April Grant. He hated that uppity white name. Kawoni. Now, there was a musical name that rolled easily on the tongue. He thought about her as he rode, and wondered idly how she would look with her hair in braids and wearing a traditional Cherokee dress of bright calico. For a moment he imagined her weaving baskets, or in the kitchen of the cabin, making fry bread and succotash for the evening meal.

  Jim Eagle, he said to himself, have you gone loco? She’s gone, probably back east, and you’ll never see her again. Anyway, that uppity would-be white girl would never be a Cherokee wife and live on a poor, small ranch. She craves the wealth and fine living of a big city.

  He remembered her with a sigh. Kawoni was pretty. No doubt, if she played her cards right, after the war some rich white man would marry her and buy her that big house back east, give her fine clothes and lots of jewels—all things that Jim Eagle could never give.

  They returned to their old camp, and now the military action was only desperate guerrilla raids as August passed. Jim Eagle stubbornly led his patrols and tried not to think of the beautiful girl who was gone forever.

  As the heat of August made working in the store almost unbearable, April grew frantic. The major had never shown up, and she was without orders. What to do? One wrong step and she might be shot as a spy. In the meantime, the only clue she had was that small slip of the tongue from Will, which might be meaningless. She wasn’t feeling well, either, which she confided to Will as they sat in the swing one hot August night.

  He looked concerned as he took her hand. “Be careful,” he warned. “The water sometimes gets polluted, and people die from dysentery. There’s also yellow fever and malaria every summer, but
no one knows exactly why it happens then. Many think it’s caused by stagnant water.”

  “I’ll be all right,” she assured him.

  “April, as soon as this war is over, why don’t you marry me? I’d spend my life making you happy.”

  “On the ranch?”

  He shook his head. “Jim’s the only one who cares about the ranch. I’m thinking of being a career officer. You’d like being posted to the excitement of Washington, with all its balls and parties.”

  “That does sound tempting, almost as good as Boston.” Then she thought of sleeping with Will while the man she really desired slept with another woman at the ranch. “I—I’d have to think about that, Will. To be honest, I’m not in love with you.”

  He seemed to brush aside her comment. “Oh, I’d be so good to you, I could make you love me. I’ll persist until I wear you down and you marry me.”

  She didn’t answer, her mind busy. She was saving her small salary to buy a stage ticket, but most of the time, the stagecoaches weren’t even running to the Indian Territory. She might have to wait until the war ended to get out. It would be easy to marry Will rather than struggle on her own. “Will, do you have any clues about when the war might end?”

  He shook his head. “It can’t be long, but the rebels are more stubborn than expected. They attacked Fort Smith several weeks ago but were beaten back.”

  He must have seen the alarm in her face, because he hastened to say, “Don’t worry, my brothers are okay, but Stand Watie’s troops are getting desperate for food and supplies. Even Jim must realize that it would be best for all if the rebels would give up their arms and surrender.”

  “Jim never seemed like the type to surrender,” she said.

  “Yes, he’s stubborn, but he’s not stupid.” He kissed her fingertips, and she smiled at him. She must learn more if possible, so she would have something to report if the major ever showed up.

  “What’s the matter, dear? You’re frowning.”

  “Nothing.” She shrugged. “I’ve been worried about you, Will. Some weeks ago, you acted quite undone—something about a major.”

  He hesitated, looking down into her face. “It doesn’t matter. I think I was upset for nothing.”

  She persisted. “You acted as if it was important.”

  He fidgeted, as if trying to decide whether to trust her with his secret. “April, something awful happened.” He lowered his voice and looked around as if to see if there was anyone nearby. The post was quiet in the August evening.

  “Oh, Will, you can tell me.”

  He hesitated. “I—I killed an officer by mistake.”

  “What?” She started, and the swing creaked loudly.

  “I didn’t mean to.” He looked frantic and apologetic. “He was shooting at me from the brush, and I shot back. When I killed him, I discovered he was a Union major.”

  “Oh, my God.” She felt her face go ashen.

  “But I’m not sure he was one of ours.” Will seemed to be attempting to reassure her. “Here’s the funny thing; he also had a Confederate uniform in his things.”

  She had a terrible sinking feeling. “Who—who do you think he was?”

  “I don’t honestly know if he was a Yank who’d been spying on the rebels or vice versa.”

  “But when you told the colonel, didn’t he question. . . ?”

  “April . . .” Sweat broke out on his face now. “I—I didn’t tell anyone. I was so afraid I’d get in trouble, I rolled the body off in a ravine and pretended it never happened.” He paused and looked at her anxiously. “Are you all right? You look faint.”

  She felt faint. She knew now why Major John Smith had never contacted her. She’d waited for weeks, and all this time, was he lying dead in a gully somewhere near the fort? “What—what did he look like?”

  “What difference does that make?”

  She took a deep breath, knowing she must not betray her emotions. “I don’t know; just curious, I suppose.”

  Will shrugged. “I don’t really remember, it happened so fast. Middle-aged, maybe. I think he had a big mole on his cheek, and his nose was crooked.”

  She didn’t say anything for a long moment. She hadn’t counted on this. She didn’t know what to do now.

  “April, say something.”

  “I—I don’t know what to say, Will. You probably should have told your superior officers.”

  Sweat broke out on his dark face. “I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid of being court-martialed. But anyway, there’s been no official questioning about a missing officer, so my guess is, he was a rebel spy.”

  “A rebel spy? Surely you’re joking, Will. Why would a rebel spy be sneaking into Fort Gibson?”

  “We don’t know he was headed to Fort Gibson,” Will said. “He might have been going anywhere. He must have been carrying some important dispatches, because when we rode up, he’d burned them before I killed him.”

  “We?”

  In the dusk, his face turned ashen. “I—I meant me.”

  Somehow, she knew he was lying about being alone, and wondered who else was in on this cover-up with him.

  “April, you won’t tell anyone, will you? It might get me in big trouble, and I’m trying to move up in rank.”

  She blinked in disbelief. “You’re saying that getting a promotion is a good excuse to keep this secret?”

  “April, I swear I never meant to kill him. If I’m to have a career in the army, this can’t come out. Promise me you won’t tell.”

  She patted his hand, her mind busy. “I promise I won’t get you in trouble.”

  “Oh, good. I knew you had to care about me, even though you keep putting me off. We’re going to have a wonderful life together, April.” Before she could react, he gathered her into his arms and kissed her. She was too stunned to do anything but submit, but as he kissed her, her mind went to Jim and the ecstasy of his kisses.

  She managed to pull away, wondering what she should do. The dispatches the major had burned were probably meant for her—so she’d know what to do next. Now she was on her own. She patted Will’s arm. “Everything will be all right.”

  “I feel better now that I’ve told you. I’ve been about to go crazy worrying about getting caught.”

  Not guilt, she thought, not even pity for the dead man; only worries for himself and his career.

  “It’s war,” she murmured, “and you said you didn’t see him when you shot at him, so it’s just a terrible mistake.”

  “That’s right, isn’t it?” He brightened considerably.

  What to do? “If you don’t mind, Will, I’m feeling poorly again. I think I’ll go in.”

  Now his face mirrored concern. “I’m afraid I’ve given you a shock. I never meant to, April.”

  “It’s all right,” she murmured. “I think I must have gotten some bad food; I’ve been sick at my stomach a lot lately, especially in the mornings.”

  “That bacon we get is moldy,” he said, nodding, “and sometimes, the eggs are almost rotten. Be more careful what you eat.”

  “I will.” She stood up and turned toward the store, but he caught her hand.

  “April, I forgot to tell you: I’m being sent to Fort Scott on an assignment soon.”

  “Fort Scott, Kansas?”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t be gone but a few days.”

  “Oh, what for?” This information might be important.

  “I don’t know much yet, but it’s nothing that would interest your pretty little ears.” He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. “Now, go in, dear, and get some rest; you look pale.”

  “I won’t be getting much rest,” she answered. “The owners are gone over to the nearest town, trying to get supplies for the store, so I’m in charge. Good night, Will.”

  She went in to bed, but she didn’t sleep. This expedition to Kansas sounded important. She’d have to keep her ears open and see what she could learn. Then she thought of the dead major. She was in
a tight spot already and didn’t know what she should do next. The Yankees would shoot a spy as quickly as the Confederates would, and she knew it.

  The next evening, right before closing time, she was on her knees behind a counter, straightening a shelf, when she heard the bell tinkle as the door opened.

  “April, dear, are you here?”

  Will. She sighed and started to get up, but about that time, she heard other footsteps.

  “Oh, Lieutenant Eagle, glad to have caught you; we need to talk.” The colonel’s voice.

  “Yes sir. Talk right here?”

  “This is good enough; there’s obviously no one around, although we can’t be too careful about spies these days.”

  “Whatever you say, sir.”

  “I want to give you final details about your trip to Fort Scott. I’ve got maps for you over at my office.”

  “Oh? I’ve been wondering what this was about, sir.”

  “Big news. There’s a huge wagon train of supplies waiting at Fort Scott: three hundred wagons and hundreds of fresh horses and mules.”

  “Three hundred wagons coming here?”

  The colonel cleared his throat. “Yes. Enough supplies to get us through the winter. Good thing the rebels don’t know about it. They need supplies worse than we do. I’m sending you to escort that supply train.”

  Will made a sound of exclamation. “Thank you for the honor, sir.”

  “You deserve it, Lieutenant Eagle. If this campaign is a success, I’ve got my eye on you for a captain’s bars, and after that, who knows?”

  “I won’t disappoint you, sir.”

  “Good. Let’s go over to my office and get those maps.”

  April heard the door close, then silence. Very slowly she stood up and looked out the window at the two disappearing across the parade grounds. She realized she’d been holding her breath as she exhaled, and went over to lock the door and leaned against it, breathless. This was the big event the colonel had talked about that night of the July Fourth dance: thousands of dollars’ worth of food, ammunition, boots, and blankets—items the Confederates needed desperately. If the rebels only knew the wagon train was coming, they could intercept it.