Miss Annie And The Chief

by Joany Kane

  Jenny responds quietly to Emmet. “This man is dying from consumption.”

  “Ain't much we can do fer him then, so let's get a move on.”

  “We're not leaving him here.” Annie states with conviction.

  “He ain't coming with us. That cough is catchy.” Emmet responds.

  Annie approaches Emmet, pulling him aside out of earshot from Klaus. “We're not letting this man die alone.”

  “We're nearing the end of the trip, no need for any of us getting sick at this point.” Emmet points out.

  “I will not let this man die alone.” Annie declares her eyes filled with empathy.

  Emmet kicks the ground, grumbling. “Ya know you're more like yer aunt than you should be.”

  Annie holds her ground. Emmet's soft spot for Annie gets the best of him. “I'll give ya the day.”

  “We probably won't need that long.” Peter adds.

  A short time later Annie spoon feeds some stew to Klaus. “My mama used to make a cabbage stew. We grew cabbage in our garden. They were so big, when I was a boy, I could barely lift them with both my hands,” Klaus shares with Annie.

  Annie feeds Klaus another bite. She tenderly wipes his chin as he coughs. “There's going to be a handsome sunset tonight, Mr. Kretchman. Would you like to see it?” She asks.

  “It will be my last, won't it?” Klaus sighs. Annie answers with a kind, compassionate smile as she gently touches his cheek.

  Outside of the tent Annie, Jenny and Peter sit Klaus in a comfortable position, facing due west. Emmet stands a short distance away, uncomfortable. He doesn't want to catch the disease.

  The sun begins to set beyond the horizon. Klaus musters a bittersweet smile as he watches the sunset.

  “I will miss singing "Silent Night" in church on Christmas Eve.” Klaus shares, trying to sound like he isn’t scared.

  “I know that song.” Annie declares. “A German family my aunt befriended taught her that song. She taught it to me the Christmas before she went west.”

  Annie begins to sing. "Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright."

  With his last bit of strength, Klaus sings along with Annie, the German version. “Round yon virgin mother and child, holy infant so tender and mild.”

  Roy, hidden in the wagon listens; he is especially touched by the music.

  Annie sings with Klaus, “Sleep in heavenly peace. Sleep in heavenly peace.”

  Klaus, weakening, manages to finish the song with her. Then Klaus dies, with a peaceful smile on his face.

  The next morning the two wagons, heading west, roll away from Klaus' campsite leaving behind a newly dug grave site under the tree.

  *****

  Rising high on the horizon, the Rockies. The wagons ride toward the majestic mountains, they have reached the Colorado Territory.

  Emmet's wagon leads Peter and Jenny's wagon. Annie sits next to Emmet. “Beaver Creek ain't too far up ahead.” Emmet informs Annie.

  “You've been a dependable guide, Mr. Howes. You've behaved admirably and brought us safely to our destination.” Annie smiles at Emmet. Her cheer turns to concern when she notices the panicky look taking over Emmet’s expression.

  Emmet whoa’s his horses looking to his left. “I ain't got us there yet, Miss Annie.” Annie turns to sees what Emmet sees - a half dozen Indians on horseback heading towards the wagons.

  “Savages.” Emmet gasps. He giddy-ups his horses, trying to hurry them away from the approaching Indians. Annie, terrified, watches the Indians.

  Emmet, realizing that he certainly can't outrun the Indians, slows the horses down as the Indians reach the wagons. He calls back to Peter and Jenny. “That negra of yours better have his gun ready.”

  The wagons come to a stop. Roy peeks out from behind the canvas, his gun ready; no fear in him to shoot if he has to.

  The Indians approach and stop to the left of Emmet's wagon. They're just a few feet away - and blocking the passage.

  One of the Indians, Chief Red Hawk, dressed magnificently, is striking, commanding, unforgettable. He stares with piercing eyes at Annie. Which rattles her. It's unclear at this moment if the Indians mean the travelers harm.

  “We're just headin' to Beaver Creek, that's all. Won't touch no buffalo.” Emmet states, trying not to sound scared.

  A horse approaches from the right, coming up along side Annie and halting just a few feet from her. Riding the horse - Captain Mark Caldwell. Mark is the epitome of dashing heroism. He is ruggedly handsome with broad shoulders and kind eyes. In his cavalry uniform he’s just as magnificent a sight as Chief Red Hawk.

  Annie looks relieved to see him, which Mark notices. Their eyes lock for a brief moment, if held any longer, sparks would surely fly. Mark turns his attention to the chief. “Chief Red Hawk. Aho.”

  “Aho, Captain Caldwell,” the chief responds in fairly good English.

  The captain and the chief regard each other, Annie between them. Chief Red Hawk motions to his Indians and they ride off. Annie sighs relief.

  Mark notices the black mourning shawl she's wearing. “No need to worry, 'mam. Those Indians are Arapaho. They've signed a peace treaty and so far the peace has held.”

  “They're all savages.” Emmet gasps, relieved to still be alive and not butchered.

  Mark appears not to agree, which Annie notices.

  “Where are you headed?” Mark inquires.

  “Beaver Creek.” Emmet replies.

  “I'll give you an escort to the edge of town.” Mark offers his eyes landing on Annie. If he could, he would keep them on her. He has never seen a woman so extraordinary. Not only in her looks, but her eyes, her expression. He can’t remember a woman touching his inner most being so quickly.

  “Thank you, Captain.” Annie says sweetly, feeling a flush in her cheeks, a feeling that has lain dormant for years.

  Mark rides ahead of the wagons as the wagons follow. In a short while, they reach a road heading into town. Mark stops his horse, the wagons stop near him.

  “Follow that road into town.” Mark informs Emmet and the travelers.

  “Much obliged.” Emmet thanks the captain.

  Mark looks at Annie, tips his hat to her and nods respectfully. “’Mam.” She returns his kind gesture with a polite smile that lights Mark on the inside. He holds her gaze for a moment. Their spark catches Annie’s breath quickening her heartbeat, a feeling she hasn't felt since her husband. And even then she didn’t remember the sensation being so consuming. Embarrassed she looks down.

  Emmet gets the wagon going again followed by Peter and Jenny. Mark doesn't ride away yet; he watches the wagons, focused on Annie, head into town.

  *****

  The wagons head down the Main Street of Beaver Creek - a bustling old west town with clapboard buildings, wooden sidewalks, a dirt road, a lively saloon and a jail across from it.

  Emmet parks his wagon in front of the saloon. Peter parks his wagon next to Emmet's. Emmet hops off the wagon. He helps Annie down. He breathes in the town air. “Can't you just smell the whiskey? Heavenliest smell next to bacon.”

  Peter and Jenny join Annie and Emmet. Peter motions for Roy to join them. “Come on out, Roy. It's time to show everyone who you are.”

  Roy hops out of the wagon. He's dressed in a suit and looking awfully dapper. Peter and Jenny head for the saloon. Roy follows.

  “You're asking for a lickin' bringin' that negra into the saloon.” Emmet warns.

  “We'll see about that.” Jenny retorts.

  Peter and Jenny, followed by Roy, confidently enter the saloon. Emmet and Annie, curious, are right behind them.

  The saloon is bustling with poker players, cowboys and painted ladies. The bartender, sporting a bowtie and goatee, serves whiskey and beer.

  One of the saloon girls, Clara, young, sweet and innocent, looks out of place as she serves the poker players whiskey.

  As soon as everyone realizes that a black man is in the saloon, the place goes quiet. All eyes are on Roy.r />
  “We don't serve his kind.” The bartender tells Peter and Jenny.

  Peter starts to respond to the comment, but Emmet, surprisingly, is the one to speak up.

  “You might wanna reconsider. This here is Rapid Roy, one of the fastest guns around.” Emmet says in Roy’s defense.

  The bartender gives Roy the once over. “He's no gunslinger. Even if he were, we still don't serve his kind.”

  “Rapid Roy is here to serve you, not be served.” Peter offers.

  Jenny motions to Roy. Roy takes a seat at the piano. He starts to play. Brilliantly. This guy can tickle the ivories with gusto and rhythm. Fast fingers.

  Before the saloon was quieted by the color of the skin, now the place is quieted by the man's talent.

  “This is why he's called Rapid Roy.” Peter informs Emmet with a twinkle in his eye.

  “I'll say. I ain't never seen fingers move so fast on a peanna.” Emmet gasps.

  Roy finishes his ditty. The crowd applauds for Roy. Roy plays another song. The folks in the saloon resume their barroom activities. Roy is no longer a bother or concern, he fits in thanks to his talent. The bartender is duly impressed with Roy. “He's hired.”

  “Good, then get these little ladies anything they want.” Emmet tells the bartender.

  “I'll have some information, please.” Annie says to the bartender.

  “Whiskey tastes better.” Emmet quips.

  “I'm looking for Selma MacHattie.” Annie continues.

  The patrons within ear shot gasp, share looks, then gawk inquisitively at Annie. There's even a snicker.

  “Do you know where I can find her?” Annie inquires.

  *****

  Annie hurries into the Beaver Creek jail. She's upset, confused.

  The marshal sits at the desk, his feet up, relaxed. He's quite the confidently casual fellow, cocksure, commanding when he needs to be.

  “Good afternoon, 'mam,” the marshal says to Annie.

  “Is it true? Is Selma MacHattie in here?” Annie asks breathlessly.

  “Sure as sugar in gum drops,” he retorts.

  “Did she really help a killer escape?” Annie can barely ask the question she’s so upset.

  “Sure as sugar in gum drops,” he teases.

  “Annie?” Selma calls.

  Annie turns to see her Aunt Selma behind bars. This sight horrifies Annie. Her beloved, inspiring, "moral compass" aunt in jail?!?

  Selma, around 40, exudes energy, vitality, earthly beauty. She looks wise beyond her years.

  “You helped a killer escape, Aunt Selma?!” Annie asks incredulously.

  “He killed in self defense.” Selma responds calmly, surely.

  “Which time?” The marshal asks sarcastically.

  “Jim Ringo is a good man!” Selma asserts.

  “Who has killed at least fifteen people,” the marshal argues.

  “In self defense.” Selma states with conviction. She looks at Annie to further explain. “Once his reputation as a gunslinger spread, every young upstart he encountered had something to prove.”

  “You don't get a reputation as a gunslinger unless you've used your gun,” the marshal drawls.

  “Which he did against outlaws.” Selma’s not backing down. She again turns her attention to Annie. “Annie, what are you doing here?”

  “I came to be with you.”

  “Why didn't you send word?”

  “Would it have mattered? I never anticipated finding you here.”

  “You should have sent word. This town’s not quite ready for young families.”

  Annie looks down at the wooden floor. “I no longer have a family.”

  Selma now just notices Annie’s black mourning shawl. “I'm so sorry, dear.”

  Annie looks at her aunt seeing a much different woman from her memory. “What happened to you, Aunt Selma?”

  “I fell in love.” Selma sighs.

  “With a wanted man,” the marshal has got to get another word in.

  “They think by locking me up, Jim is going to ride back into town and rescue me. But he won't. He won't risk hurting anyone else. There's been enough bloodshed. They'll let me go eventually.” Selma relates to Annie.

  “Don't count on it. You've aided an outlaw. That's a crime in these parts,” the marshal informs.

  “You'll at least have to let me out for the performance.” Selma quips. She smiles wide at Annie. “I brought theatre to town. In a few days the troupe arrives and we'll be putting on a performance of Grimm's Fairy Tales.”

  Even this revelation shocks Annie. “No wonder you haven't written in so long.”

  “Please don't be disappointed, Annie. This country can change you.”

  “It doesn't appear to be in a good way.” Annie says quietly.

  “Spend enough time here, you'll understand.”

  “I don't think I'll be spending any time here at all.”

  “It's late, you at least have to stay the night. Please stay at my house.”

  “There's plenty of room now that no one's there,” the marshal adds sarcastically.

  “It's down the street, next to the theatre.” Selma tells Annie.

  Annie doesn't move; she doesn't look at her aunt. She's befuddled by this unexpected turn of events.

  Selma smiles lovingly at Annie. “I thought I would never fall in love, Annie. I resigned myself to the fate of growing old alone, never having felt the embrace of a kind, caring man. Then I met Jim. He's bright, noble, makes me laugh. He respects what I was doing out here.”

  “As he should, you're teaching children.” Annie retorts.

  The marshal snickers. Selma corrects Annie. “I'm not teaching children. I'm teaching Indians.”

  This is just another major shock dropped on Annie regarding her aunt. “You're teaching Indians?”

  “Scouts mainly. For the Army.”

  “Correction. She was teaching the scouts. Not doing much teaching from here.” The marshal is thoroughly enjoying injecting.

  “I'm teaching you to play chess.” Selma sasses the marshal.

  *****

  Moments later, down the street from the saloon and jail, Emmet stands with Annie in the doorway of the row house adjacent to the theatre.

  “Never would have expected that bird to end up with a gunman and in the slammer. And teaching those savages.” Emmet declares.

  “I never imagined it either, Mr. Howes.”

  “You wanna continue on to Santa Fe with the Newtons and me in the morning?”

  “Yes, very much so.”

  “We'll be headin' out first light. Good-night, Miss Annie.” Emmet heads back towards the saloon.

  Annie enters Selma’s house and shuts the door behind her. She looks around the place, examining her aunt's home. She looks over the piles of books, artwork, Elizabethan furniture, velvet tapestries. She seems as alone and out of place here as she did in her home back in Pennsylvania.

  She takes a seat on the plush sofa and pulls out a black and white photo of her husband in his Army uniform. She looks at him fondly. Then she buries her face in a pillow, not able to hold the tears at bay any longer.

  *****

  Morning arrives and Annie is still seated on the sofa, looking exhausted. There's a knock on the door. She rises from the sofa, walks to the front door and opens it.

  Standing on the front step is Captain Mark Caldwell. He immediately looks concerned when he sees her tired, tear-weary eyes. “Good morning, Mrs. Landon.”

  “'Captain.” She quietly responds.

  “First and foremost, you have my deepest sympathies for the loss of your husband.” Mark says kindheartedly.

  “Thank you.”

  “I understand that you are a teacher, like your aunt.”

  “News travels fast in this town.”

  “Like lightning.” Mark quips. His tender smile comforting Annie.

  Annie sees Emmet approaching. “I'm going to be leaving momentarily, Captain.”

  “I wish you wou
ldn't.” He says with heartfelt sincerity as he locks eyes with Annie.

  Mark’s response surprises Annie. The way he said it with such meaning in the words and warmth in his eyes, catches her breath and she's helpless to control her blush. “Why is that?”

  “With your aunt incarcerated, we need a teacher. Out at the fort. To teach the scouts. Our lack of understanding each other has significantly hindered our efforts in forging true peace with the Indians. You would be doing the army a great service.”

  Annie doesn't answer. She's contemplating her options as she watches the wagons approach. Emmet reaches the row house. He joins Mark on the front step.

  “Ya ready to go, Miss Annie?” Emmet asks.

  Annie looks at Mark. His eyes are tender, hopeful. She thinks for a moment.

  “The day ain't waiting for us.” Emmet encourages.

  “I think I'm going to stay for a while, Mr. Howes.” Annie announces. This news surprises Emmet and relieves Mark.

  ‘'You sure you wanna be doing that, Miss Annie?” Emmet wants to know.

  “Not completely.” She quietly replies.

  Annie looks at Mark again, he shares a grateful smile; there is relief in those remarkable eyes. “Thank you, Mrs. Landon.”

  “All righty. I'll get yer belongings from the wagon.” Emmet shrugs.

  “I'll give you a hand.” Mark offers.

  Annie approaches Peter and Jenny's wagon. They hop down to greet her.

  “We'll be staying at the Curtis Ranch in Santa Fe. With artists and writers, good people, with good hearts. Their ranch will be a haven for like-minded souls. You'll always be welcome there.” Peter shares.

  Jenny gives Annie a hug. “You will be missed.” Jenny tells her.

  Mark and Emmet are within ear shot of the conversation as Mark retrieves Annie's belongings from the wagon.

  "A friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of nature." Annie quotes to Jenny.

  “Them funny words by the respectively brothers?” Emmet asks.

  “Emerson.” Peter informs.

  Emmet thinks he knows what he's talking about now. “Yuup, one of them brothers.”

  Peter doesn't bother to correct Emmet's delusion as Emmet and Mark place Annie's things inside the row house and then join the wagons.

  Annie approaches the back of Emmet's wagon where her horse is tied. She tenderly pets his nose. “Good-bye, dear friend,” her voice quivering slightly. Mark watches Annie's moment with the horse finding it poignant; this lovely widow captivates him.