Miss Annie And The Chief

by Joany Kane

  Miss Annie And The Chief

  By Joany Kane

  Copyright 2013 Joany Kane

  All Rights Reserved

  MAY 1864

  Annie Landon raises an ax over her shoulder. She swings it down, splitting a piece of wood in two. She is pretty handy with an ax. She has to be in order to survive, living alone in the Pennsylvania countryside while her husband Caleb is off fighting in the war between the states.

  She picks up the pieces and placed them in a woodpile next to a red barn. She stops for a moment to smile at her beautiful black horse grazing in the pasture, her one and only companion. It is a glorious spring day; Annie catches the scent of lilacs on the wave of a breeze.

  Four Union Soldiers on horseback approach her homestead. The men look weary from years of Civil War fighting. Captain Harmon Taylor, aged beyond his thirty-something years, the battle experiences covering up his farm boy sweetness, leads the soldiers. He dismounts.

  Annie stops her chores and approaches the soldiers.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Landon. I'm Captain Harmon Taylor,” he says, an unwanted and ill-timed blush flushing his cheeks. He hadn’t expected to find her so comely.

  “Good afternoon, Captain Taylor. My husband has written often of you. He holds you in high regard.” Annie replies.

  “As I him.” Captain Taylor smiles warmly before taking a heavy breath. “It is with deep regret that I am here today, Mrs. Landon.”

  Annie's face goes pale. She has feared this day.

  “Your husband, Caleb, fought admirably. He continued to fight, even after he was shot. He was not alone when he died. I was with him. His last words spoke of you.”

  “Thank you. That's a comfort to hear, Captain.” Annie quietly responds. Burying her pain she turns her attention to the soldiers, noting their tired, ragged condition. “You and your men look exhausted. Why don't you camp here for the evening and I will fix you supper.”

  “That's a kind offer, Mrs. Landon. Thank you.” Captain Taylor motions for his men to dismount. “Finish chopping the wood and make camp.” He orders.

  Later in the evening after dinner, the three soldiers sit by a fire near their tents. One plays a fiddle while Annie sits with Captain Taylor near the front of the Colonial house.

  “You have a fine home here, Mrs. Landon,” the captain comments.

  “It's just a house. A home is for a family.”

  “It broke your husband's heart that he couldn't be here with you when your son passed.”

  Annie looks away, the words bringing back more painful memories. “They're now together in God's care,” she whispers.

  “You've suffered more losses than any woman should have to endure,” the captain says with empathetic anguish. He would give anything to comfort her.

  “Do you have family, Captain?” Annie inquires, wanting to change the subject.

  “The Army has been my family.”

  “Seems awfully lonely.”

  “Not much time to feel alone these past three years,” the captain shrugs. Maybe not for the captain, but certainly for Annie as shown in her eyes.

  “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Landon, that wasn't the most thoughtful of responses,” the captain stumbles his reply. “I know it's been nearly three years since you've seen Caleb.”

  “Long years,” she quietly sighs.

  “Too long,” he adds.

  Inside the house, after the soldiers have called it a night, Annie busies herself with baking. She focuses on her task trying to keep her mind from dwelling on her loses, though tears are escaping her eyes and rolling down her cheeks.

  When daybreak arrives, the soldiers are ready to leave. The three soldiers have already mounted their horses while Captain Taylor stands with Annie. She hands the captain a basket. “Some muffins and bread for your travels.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Landon,” the captain says kindly, as the three soldiers give their thanks to Annie for the food and shelter.

  “You're most welcome. I appreciated the company,” she manages a smile.

  Captain Taylor mounts his horse. He tips his hat to her. “Good-bye, Mrs. Landon.”

  “God speed, Captain.” Annie watches the men ride off. She returns to the house and enters it. It seems so big and empty now, more so today than yesterday.

  She looks around. It's quiet. Lonely. Painfully lonely. Her toddler son is dead, taken by the pox. Her husband is dead. Now what does she do? She takes a wooden box from a shelf, opens it and removes a small pile of hand-written letters.

  Annie looks through the letters, they're all written to her from an Aunt Selma. She reads one. "Dear Annie, We crossed the Mississippi today. I've never seen such a wide river. Everything I've experienced on this trip west thus far has been exhilarating. As I travel across this beautiful country, I eagerly anticipate my new life in the Colorado Territory. I wish you were here to share it with me. With much love, Aunt Selma"

  *****

  A horse-drawn buggy, driven by Annie, rides down the main road of a small Pennsylvania town. Annie parks the buggy in front of a tavern.

  Dressed in mourning black, she steps down from the buggy. She pats the nose of her horse, showing true affection for her beast of burden. She looks at the tavern, at first unsure about entering. Mustering determination, she enters.

  Not one man in the place looks like a gentleman, an observation not lost on Annie. She clears her throat and looks at the bartender. “I'm looking for Mr. Emmet Howes.”

  The men seated at the front of the bar turn their attention to a rough ole coot seated at the end of the bar. “He's at the end of the bar,” the bartender replies.

  Emmet slinks down on his bar stool, not wanting to be acknowledged. He looks tough in most spots, lovable in a few others, and could stand for a bath and a shave.

  Annie approaches him. “Mr. Emmet Howes?”

  Emmet gives Annie the once over. “If you're recruitin' for the Lord, ya picked the wrong man.”

  “I'm Mrs. Annie Landon. You took Selma MacHattie, my aunt, to the Colorado Territory a couple of years ago.”

  Emmet furrows his brow, trying to recall. “Was she that teacher?”

  “Yes, she is a teacher.”

  “I remember. I took her to Beaver Creek. Went with the missionaries. The good bookers determined to bring Jesus to the savages.”

  “I wish to hire you to bring me to Beaver Creek, to my aunt.”

  “Sorry, missy. If yer anything like yer aunt, I ain't interested. She got me so riled I had to drink warm milk for a month to calm my stomach.”

  “Please. I can pay. Handsomely.”

  “Have you ever seen a savage?” Emmet asks.

  “No.”

  “Good. You should keep it that way.”

  “My husband is dead, Mr. Howes. My little boy is dead. I have no family other than my aunt. Please.” Annie implores with quiet determination. She reluctantly adds. “I will give you my horse.”

  Emmet looks away from Annie. He gave her his answer. Annie, now embarrassed by her pleas, leaves the tavern. She hops up into her buggy.

  Emmet exits the tavern. He studies the horse. “Is this the horse?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fine animal.” Emmet pets the horse's nose.

  “He is. He was a present to me from my husband.”

  “We leave at daybreak the day after next. If you ain't ready, you ain't going.”

  “I am ready.” Annie answers with conviction.

  *****

  At daybreak a covered wagon rides up to Annie’s house, Emmet is at the reigns. He whoa’s his horses to a stop. Annie exits the house. She approaches Emmet. “Good morning, Mr. Howes.”

  “It is good and it's gettin' away from us. We best be g
ettin' a move on,” he says surly as he hops down from the wagon to help Annie with her trunk and two bags.

  “This all ya taking?” He asks as he looks at the trunk and two bags.

  “This is all I need.”

  Emmet ties Annie's horse to the back of the wagon. “What's gonna happen to yer house?” Emmet inquires.

  “I gave it to the church. It was built for a family and a family should live in it.”

  Emmet helps Annie up into the wagon. He hops up next to her. “You got the money for yer passage?” Emmet asks.

  Annie hands a small bag of coins to Emmet. “Half now and half when we arrive at Beaver Creek.”

  “Fair enough.” Emmet giddy ups his horses. The wagon moves away from the homestead. “We're meeting up with some abolitionists who will be riding along with us.” Emmet shares with Annie.

  “Escorting teachers, missionaries and abolitionists, Mr. Howes? I think the good Lord has already recruited you,” she smiles.

  “Now that's just plain not true.” Emmet scoffs.

  The wagon rides down the road, heading away from the homestead and away from the rising sun. Annie does not look back, only forward.

  *****

  Emmet’s wagon reaches a crossroads. Another wagon waits by the side of the road. There seems to be some sort of activity happening in the back of the covered wagon, unseen to anyone.

  Emmet's wagon approaches and pulls up alongside the waiting wagon. He calls out. “Ain't the best time to be professing yer love for each other, you abolitionists.”

  Peter and Jenny Newton, a middle-aged couple, hop out of the back of the wagon. They're careful to close the flap so no one can see into their wagon.

  “Good day.” Peter greets. “I'm Peter Newton and this is my wife Jenny.”

  “It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Mrs. Annie Landon.” Annie warmly shares.

  Emmet adds. “She lost her mister in the war. The day ain't waiting fer us, you all have your "good book" with ya and ready to go?”

  “If, Mr. Howes, you are referring to the words and wisdom of some of the great transcendentalists, then yes, we have good books with us.” Peter retorts.

  “Transendlists?’ I thought you was abolitionists.” Emmet scratches his head.

  Peter and Jenny hop up into their wagon. Jenny peaks into the back of her wagon as if making sure all is okay. The wagons proceed down the road - heading west.

  Several days into the journey west the two wagons reach the mighty Mississippi River. The wagons load onto a barge and begin the river crossing.

  Annie stands near the edge of the boat, looking out at the river. She holds the letter that Aunt Selma had written her about the excitement she had felt in crossing the river. She rereads the letter when Jenny joins her.

  Jenny studies Annie. “It takes a special kind of spirit to travel alone, Annie.”

  Annie hands the letter to Jenny for her to read. “My Aunt Selma traveled alone. She's very forthright, determined. I have always admired her for that and for her strength of character and her wisdom. She's my inspiration, my moral compass.”

  “Watching how well you have handled this vigorous trip has been my inspiration. There have been times I wanted to turn back, but watching you focused on the destination and handling everything we have encountered with steadiness and conviction has been heartening.” Jenny shares.

  The ladies see that they are now closer to the western bank of the river than to the eastern bank. “Once across this river I know there is no going back for us now.” Jenny tells Annie.

  “I will never go back.” Annie responds. “Pennsylvania holds more painful memories for me than pleasant ones.”

  *****

  The travelers have made camp for the evening out on the plains. The sun is just starting to set on the horizon and the sky is aflame with color. Annie and Jenny marvel at the sight. “’Nature always wears the color of the spirit.’" Annie quotes.

  "’It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see.’" Jenny adds.

  Emmet scratches his head. “What are those two chickens squawking about?”

  “The ladies are quoting Emerson and Thoreau, respectively.” Peter elaborates.

  “I ain't never heard of no respectively brothers.” Emmet declares.

  Peter just smiles, no use trying to explain things to Emmet.

  A short time later, now dark, the sky teems with millions of stars. Emmet, Annie, Jenny and Peter sit around a small campfire drinking coffee.

  “If the weather stays calm and we don't run into any savages, we should make it to the Colorado Territory in a couple of weeks.” Emmet offers.

  “Not all Indians are savages, Mr. Howes.” Peter corrects.

  “All the ones I know are.” Emmet retorts.

  “How many do you know?” Jenny challenges.

  “I know what they do. They butcher people. In their sleep. Women. Children. With hatchets. That ain't no quick way to die. No siree.” Emmet states firmly, not backing down from his beliefs. “Hacking on a youngin's leg. Then her stomach as she cried for her mama, her mama who was being butchered by another savage.”

  “That sounds so unbelievable.” Annie gasps.

  “It's God's truth. I seen it myself. Not that far from here. My first trip west. We came upon the wagons. Blood was everywhere. Four families dead.” Emmet shares.

  Emmet hears a rustle. He stands up, grabs his gun. “I ain't letting them butcher me without a fight.”

  Annie, Peter and Jenny stand up, look around. A man on horseback bounds into the campfire area. Jenny screams.

  The man, a bandit, with dark wavy hair and wearing all black, points his gun at Emmet, cocking it.

  “Drop it, por favore,” the bandit drawls with an Italian accent.

  Emmet drops the gun. He scowls at the bandit. The bandit effortlessly hops off his steed and looks at the foursome.

  “Buona Sera, ladies and gentlemen,” he says with gentlemanly politeness. “I am here for your jewels and valuables.”

  “Does it look like we have jewels and valuables? You're raiding transendlists.” Emmet retorts.

  “Hold your tongue, vecchio,” the bandit barks at Emmet.

  “What'd you call me?” Emmet demands.

  “He called you an old man.” Annie shares.

  The bandit's eyes light up. He looks at Annie. His eyes light up more inspired by her grace, intelligence, confidence and beauty.

  “You are familiar with the language of romance?” The bandit inquires with a bit of flirt.

  “I'm familiar with Italian,” she corrects him.

  The bandit moves close to Annie; he takes her hand and kisses it while locking eyes with her. “Bellissimo,” he tells her before turning his attention to her wedding ring. “That's quite an exquisite ring.”

  Annie defiantly pulls her hand away from the bandit and holds her hand as if protecting her treasured wedding ring.

  Emmet raises his gun, pointing it at the bandit. “Leave Miss Annie be, you garlic stinkin' grease ball.”

  In a flash the bandit has turned on Emmet, pointing his gun in Emmet's face. Gun for gun, Emmet is no match. “I have never harmed a person I've stolen from, but with you, vecchio, I could make an exception.”

  For a tense second it looks like the bandit's going to shoot Emmet when…the barrel of a cocked gun jabs in the back of the bandit's neck.

  Emmet’s eyes widen at the sight of a black man jabbing a gun in the bandit’s back. “Drop your gun,” the black man commands. The bandit drops his gun. “You best be moving on now while no harm has been done.” The black man continues.

  “Where in tarnation did the negra come from?” Emmet gasps.

  Peter addresses the bandit. “You better do what this man tells you, he's the legendary Rapid Roy.”

  The bandit turns and tips his hat to Roy. “Si, no harm done,” the bandit states politely. The bandit moves towards his horse, but then decides to give Annie's hand another kiss.

  “You're n
ot impressing me.” Annie deadpans.

  The bandit smiles, falsely believing that yes indeed he has made an impression. “Bellissimo,” he says again before hopping on his horse and galloping away.

  Emmet and Annie look at the black man.

  “Again, where in tarnation did he come from?” Emmet wants to know.

  “This is Roy, and he is with us.” Peter states.

  “I ain't never heard of no Rapid Roy. And whadya mean he's with us, I ain't seen him before.” Emmet says, frazzled.

  “He's been riding with us.” Jenny shares. “We kept him hidden because we knew you wouldn't let a runaway slave go with us.”

  “Darn tootin. He ain't riding with us no more. This is where we part ways. I ain't riding with no negra.” Emmet hollers.

  “Roy just saved your life, Mr. Howes.” Annie points out as she, Jenny and Peter stare down Emmet.

  “Having an extra gun around if there are savages nearby might be useful.” Peter encourages.

  Emmet thinks for a moment. He won't look at Roy. “As long as he stays hidden like he has been. I want no trouble.”

  *****

  The next day the two wagons continue west through the prairies. The grassy plains seem to go on forever. The wagons approach a small, dilapidated tent set up by a lone tree. There is no horse - and no signs of life.

  The wagons come to a stop by the campsite. Emmet, Annie, Jenny and Peter look around. They hear a horrid cough coming from the tent.

  Annie hops down from the wagon and heads for the tent. Jenny and Peter follow her. They peek inside the tent.

  Inside the tent a pale, gaunt, ghastly looking man lays on the ground coughing blood. He's days, even hours, from death. “Dear Lord.” Jenny gasps under her breath at the sight of the man.

  Annie enters the tent and approaches the man with the hope of helping him. “Hello, I'm Mrs. Annie Landon,” she says with warmth and welcoming.

  “I'm Klaus Kretchman,” the sickly man coughs out.

  Annie notices empty bottles of a tincture that claims to cure consumption. Klaus coughs up more blood. “They said the clean air would cure me.” Klaus relates with disappointment.

  Emmet peeks inside the tent and sees Annie cleaning the blood off of the man. “What's going on?” he gasps.