But there was no choice. I sure as heck didn’t aim to be a prisoner again—or dead. I took the rifle up and aimed it, holding it as steady as I could. Just then, Jacobi and Red Eagle staggered up to their feet. Red Eagle took a step or two before Jacobi rushed at him and flung his arms around him.
I felt the metal of the trigger, smooth beneath my finger, beckoning me to pull back and end this wildness. I aimed real careful. The gun boomed and jerked, sending me backward. I tripped over my own feet and fell flat on my butt.
Both men lay still for an instant, then Jacobi pushed Red Eagle’s carcass off of him and sat up, rubbing the back of his neck.
“You okay?” he asked, his breathing hard and labored.
I nodded, then said, “Yes.”
“You’re soundin’ mighty breathless, son. Like you been fightin’ Injuns or somethin’.”
“You do, too.”
He laughed softly, and came to his feet, swaying as he stood up. “Does the sight of blood scare you, Will?”
His voice sounded harsh and strained, as if he were keeping a tight rein on himself.
“N-No.”
“Good. Think you could manage to tie up my shoulder? I’m afraid Red Eagle got his one good lick in before you did.”
I jumped up and walked to him, unsure about what to do at first. But when he looked down at me in the silver moonlight, his eyes glittered with pain, and with the determination to keep from showing it too much. He was worried, but not for himself—for me. Out of everything that had happened, that was what seemed to be what gave me fear of unmanning myself. In the next moment, I had wrapped my arms around Jacobi’s buckskin-clad leg holding on tight as I could. I swallowed hard.
Then, Jacobi’s hand came over my head, his big warm palm smoothing my tousled hair in a comfort I had never known—not even from my own father. It set up a longing inside me that I had tried to deny existed for a very long time. It was the somehow familiar comfort in Jacobi’s touch; not that it should be in any way known from my own experiences, but yet, was recognizable.
Jacobi had had a son. I knew it as well as if he had been my own father, and I the son he had lost. He had taken the risks for me as a father would for a son, even put his own life in danger for me—a boy he hadn’t known until the day he’d had the misfortune of rescuing.
“Will, you’re gonna be fine.” I could hear the tint of a tender smile in his voice as if he were proud of me, and that made me proud in my own heart. Warmth flooded through me, and I rested my head against his leg for a second, his fingers curling into my hair.
“Here.” He pulled a bandanna from his pocket and handed it to me. I stepped back and made a swipe at my eyes with my wrist, and he sank down to the ground unsteadily. In the moonlit night, I could see the darkening stain of blood blossoming out across his shirtfront, and I hurried to tie the cloth tightly under his arm at the top of his shoulder.
“You better lie down,” I said, feeling odd at being the one to suggest what he ought to do. But he nodded and laid back on his bedroll. I reached for the rifle, knowing I needed to be certain it was reloaded and ready for anything else that came our way.
Jacobi Kane was counting on me, now. And scared as I was, I could only imagine how he must feel, knowing a ten-year-old boy was all that stood to protect him against the world of red savage Apaches, packs of coyotes, or anything else that might come our way.
But he needn’t have worried. After the last two weeks, I had become a man. I’d seen killing, and now, I had killed. I’d been taken from everything I knew and with sickening dread; understood what Red Eagle had had in mind for me.
Jacobi Kane had been like one of them guardian angels in the Good Book. He’d been with me a lot longer’n I’d first thought. Again, I remembered that rifle shot that had whizzed past me as I watched the Indians murder Mama and Papa. The shot that had killed Lisbeth, just as Red Eagle had wrapped his devil’s hands in her hair and cut her. Why couldn’t that bullet have killed Red Eagle instead of Lisbeth? But even if it had, there had been too many of them, all laughing and yelling with murder in their painted faces. And me, runnin’ right into the middle of them. I shook my head, thinkin’ on how dumb I’d been. Papa used to say, “He who angers you, controls you.” It was true. Red Eagle had controlled me runnin’ straight to him. But whoever had fired that rifle had killed my sister on purpose. And that hadn’t just made me angry. It had broken my heart. Now, as I sat here watching over Jacobi, I knew I wasn’t gonna let anything happen to him. Me and him was in this together now, no matter what. I wasn’t afraid of the night or the dark, or even the sound of the coyotes calling in the distance. I’d killed me one Indian tonight. I reckoned, if I had to, I could do it again.
Chapter 7
I never slept all that night. I sat beside Jacobi with his rifle loaded and ready across my lap. As the sky began to lighten to gray, he moved in his sleep, then turned his head and opened his eyes.
“Will?”
“I’m here. Been here all night.”
He grimaced as he tried to sit up. I laid the gun down right quick and went to help him. When he’d gotten to his feet, he passed a hand over his face and took a deep breath.
“Any sign of…anyone?”
“No, sir. It’s been real quiet.”
He nodded. “Could be they decided to let Red Eagle come after us on his own. Thought he could handle us.”
“Well, he thought wrong.”
Jacobi gave me an odd look, but in the end, whatever it was he’d been going to say remained unspoken, as if he thought better of it; or maybe, he just didn’t have the strength after bleeding like he had.
“Thank you, Will. I know you were afraid to take the shot. You did what you had to do. It ain’t always pleasant or easy to think on later, but it’s what a man does.”
A lump came to my throat. I reckoned that was almost like—maybe he was telling me he was proud of me. Nobody had ever done that before. It meant everything. I didn’t know what to answer, but he went on, so I just stood quiet.
“Later, you may think about what happened and wonder if you couldn’t’ve figured another way. You may regret, with everything in you, the fact that you had to take another life. But sometimes it’s the only way…and sometimes death is a better answer than the next thing life might bring.”
“You mean like…like what happened to Lisbeth?”
“What was that?” There was a careful, measured tone to his words.
“Gettin’ shot an’ killed like she did—just when that murderin’ savage got his hands on her. If she’d of been his prisoner, he’d of made her a red man’s woman.” I looked at the ground. “I figure it was better she died, than that.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Will, you’re young. There’s a lot worse things that could’ve happened to Lisbeth other than being ‘a red man’s woman’.” He fell silent for a moment, then moved away from me. “Right now, we need to get out of here. I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to ride today.”
I watched in horrified fascination as he walked to Red Eagle’s lifeless body and drew his knife. At the last minute, before he took Red Eagle’s scalp, he turned to me. “Can you saddle ol’ Blackie and strike camp? This is something you won’t want to watch.”
He was wrong. I desperately wanted to see Red Eagle and his scalp part ways. I wanted to see that Injun pay for what he’s taken from me every way he could. But I turned away, and went to get the horses ready to ride.
We headed in a southeasterly direction, making for Fort Worth. Our pace was slow and I rode in silence, though my mind was tumbling with questions. Every so often, I’d hear Jacobi’s breath catch as if the pain of his wounded shoulder was too much. But his hands were steady on the reins, and he never once rested his weight against me.
****
“Why’d you take it? Red Eagle’s scalp, I mean.” The question had been burning my insides all that morning as we rode. Though I wasn’t afraid to ask it, I had felt awkward, some
how. But finally, it got the best of me, bubbling up until I couldn’t stop it.
I felt Jacobi stiffen behind me, as if he felt I might be accusing him, or even looking down on him for what he’d done.
Red Eagle’s bloody scalp was tied on the side of the saddlebag behind us. I was glad I didn’t have to be reminded with every passing mile that I’d killed a man, and me just ten years old. No matter how I tried to tell myself I hadn’t had a choice, my mind kept repeating that scene—me holdin’ the rifle and tryin’ to steady it; the fear inside me that I might miss, and hit Jacobi instead.
But I hadn’t missed, and Red Eagle had stopped moving almost instantly. I had not even wanted to see where I’d shot him—it was enough that I had. Mama, Papa and Lisbeth could all rest in peace now, I thought. But there was a vague uneasiness in my conscience that wouldn’t go away, and it surprised me. I had been thirsty for vengeance, until I’d gotten it. Nothing would ever bring my family back. And I truly had no family to go to. I was an orphan in the world.
“You think I shouldn’t have taken his scalp, Will?” Before I could answer, he went on. “I didn’t like having to do it. But rightfully, it’s yours. And when we turn it in, and I prove to ’em it is Red Eagle’s and he’s dead, that’s gonna be a piece of money for you. I’m…not sure where your family is, son.” His voice had lost the harsh edge, as if he might be sorry to see us part company. “It might take some money to send you to them, especially if they’re back East somewhere.”
I’d never thought of that. I guess maybe I’d gotten so comfortable with him that I didn’t want to think of yet another change. I nodded, and kept silent. He seemed to be waiting for an answer of some kind from me. I said, “I’m not sure about my other family. I never met any of ’em.”
“Know where we might reach them? I can send a telegram, but I need a name. A place.”
I felt like a lyin’ devil. “No.” I didn’t want to go meet my grandfather. I didn’t want to be a ship builder. I wanted to ride a horse, to live in this wild country I was born in. But I sure didn’t want to lie to Jacobi Kane, a man who’d saved my life. So I said, “I’m not for sure.”
As if he knew my thoughts, he said, “Will, I…I told you once I don’t have a home. I live in the world. No place permanent. If I did have a place, you know you’d be welcome to string along with me. But don’t you think we oughtta try to let your folks know what’s happened?”
I thought of what Papa had told me about my grandfather. The harsh words spoken, the ‘unrealistic expectations,’ as he’d called them. I knew I couldn’t handle any of that now. My heart was wounded. I just wanted to heal up, and feel safe. And that was what I was doing right now. But Fort Worth was getting closer with each passing hour. I wasn’t going to be able to stay safe in this world, no matter how big it was, much longer. Suddenly, I felt tired. And very, very old.
Chapter 8
The rest of the trip—three days’ worth of long, hot riding—Jacobi and I stayed away from talking about my folks. In fact, we didn’t talk much at all. It seemed like on top of the knife wound paining him, somethin’ else gnawed on Jacobi as well. I knew what was churnin’ at my own guts. I’d put a lot of my own sadness in a secret place and locked it down tight. But uncertainty was a monster I had no weapon for. Jacobi didn’t want me. Neither would my relatives in Boston, I felt quite certain.
That didn’t leave me any choice but to figure out something on my own. We’d reach Fort Worth by late afternoon, Jacobi had said. My time was running out. And riding one horse as we’d been doing, though slow going, had allowed us to make better time than with me riding Arrow with no saddle.
We’d stopped by a small creek to stretch our legs and eat the last of our provisions, and I can tell you, by then, I was getting sick of hardtack and jerky. Jacobi squatted down on his haunches, looking off into the distance.
“Why couldn’t you get a place? A cabin somewhere—” I stopped, horrified to hear myself voicing the question I’d wondered ever since we’d talked three days earlier.
He didn’t look my way, just took another bite of the jerky. “I was wonderin’ when you’d get around to that.”
I was too embarrassed to say anything. The heat flamed my cheeks, and I knew I was ‘red as a beet,’ as Mama used to say.
“Will, you’re heartsick right now over losing your folks—probably especially your Pa. A boy needs a pa—” He broke off, then more softly he said, “And I reckon every man wants a boy—a son—that he can teach things to and bring up to be a strong, good man.” He finally looked at me, and there was a longing in his expression that turned, even as I watched, into a studied blandness.
“I reckon I’ve had a chance at that already. And it didn’t work out. I don’t have any desire to—to fail again, Will. No. I figure you better head on to wherever it is your family’s at and throw in with them.”
“But—I don’t want to! My father—he and my grandpa didn’t get on too well.” I had hoped to withhold that bit of information until much later, if I ever had to tell it at all. But I was desperate to make him see what a mistake it would be.
“What do you know about it?” He stood up and walked over to tower over me, his mouth set grimly.
“Just that. He told me my grandpa was a ship builder in—”
He looked at me steadily, expecting the truth.
I sighed and finished. “In Boston.”
“Green,” he murmured. “You said your last name was Green.”
I nodded.
Jacobi’s lips turned up reluctantly. “Well, boy, I don’t think we’ll be needing Red Eagle’s hair to help you get back East. Your grandfather is one of the richest men alive. Robert Green owns half of Boston. I think he’ll be awful glad to have his grandson with him.”
I jumped up, fists clenched. “Don’t you understand? I don’t want to go to live with him!”
Jacobi stooped down eye level with me. “Listen to me! You can have anything you want. You’ll be able to go to school and learn all kinds of things I can’t teach you!”
“I don’t want it! I don’t want him! I want you! I want to be William Kane—your son!”
Jacobi straightened up swiftly as though someone had hit him. His eyes widened in shock, and he and I both squared off as if we were intending to fight.
Our breathing was coming ragged and quick.
“Will—” He reached a hand out to me, silently beseeching me for understanding I didn’t have. Then, he turned away and stalked toward the horses, finally squeezing out the words that came so hard to him.
“My son is dead.”
Chapter 9
So it was settled, then. When we got to Fort Worth, I’d go my way and Jacobi would go his. That was fine with me. Just fine. I’d thank him for saving me, as he’d done earlier for me saving him. We’d just be all polite, each thanking the other for our services. Then he’d ride off to go to the nearest saloon for a drink and to think how good it was to be free of me and able to go on back to his life as a citizen of the world.
I’d be left with some army officer to take care of me until my passage could be bought on a stage back to Boston. If my grandfather wanted me. If he even still lived.
But what fate awaited me if he had already passed on? Or if he didn’t want me? What then?
As the first sight of the booming settlement came into view, my heart fell. I had been hoping, without realizing it, that Jacobi would change his mind and decide he might like to try his hand at being a father one more time.
“Well, there it is. End of the journey.” The relief in his voice was unmistakable.
I never said a word.
“We’ll eat good tonight, Will. I know you’ll be as glad as I will to have a home-cooked meal.”
“Yes, sir.” There was no enthusiasm in me for anything. I might just as well have been Red Eagle’s captive, still, for all the joy I felt.
Jacobi didn’t try to talk to me anymore. My disappointment was keen and cut so deep that
I didn’t care what he thought. He’d be gone soon anyhow, and I’d be left to try to figure things out and make some sense of my world, alone.
I was surprised to see him head for one of the hotels in the settlement that had sprung up around the fort. I’d thought sure he’d go straight to the fort command post and drop me off. The town that surrounded the fort was bigger than about anything I could remember seeing. But not as big as St. Louis. That had been so long ago, though. This town was surely able to support one more person. Me. I liked what I saw here—the activity, the people…
But I sat sullen and quiet, not asking any questions. I made it up right then in my mind I wasn’t going to go to Boston. Even if Jacobi didn’t want me, there were other things I could do here. I’d run away, that’s what, if anyone tried to put me on a stage for Boston.
We reined up at the hotel, and Jacobi dismounted, his eyes scanning the street for any kind of trouble. He raised a hand to help me down, but I ignored it, sliding off ol’ Blackie’s back and nearly falling. My legs were numb from the days of riding, and we’d pushed on that afternoon steadily to get to Fort Worth by nightfall.
“Let’s check in and leave our gear, then we’ll head to the livery.”
I nodded and turned away to begin unstrapping the saddlebags. Jacobi’s big hand came over mine, warm and steady. “Let me, Will.” His voice was kind and I knew he was feeling sorry about the awkward distance between us since earlier that day.
I wanted right then to tell him to go to the devil; that I was sorry too—sorry I’d ever brought up the idea that I might stay with him. His son was dead, he’d said. And he didn’t want to be any kind of father again. I had been wrong to suggest it. My own father had not been as good to me in many ways as Jacobi had been, but he had still been my Papa. No one could take his place.
I moved back a step as Jacobi deftly unfastened the saddlebags and swung them over his shoulder, wincing at the movement.
Red Eagle's War Page 3