Journey of the Heart

by Mills, DiAnn; Darty, Peggy;

  A warm blush rose in Lauren’s face. “I’m getting married soon to one of the soldiers.”

  For a moment, Katie felt envious of Lauren’s happiness, but she elected to ignore her jealousy and wish Lauren the best.

  “As pretty as you are, Katie, it won’t be long before a handsome soldier whisks you off your feet,” Martha said.

  “Oh, it will be a long time before I contemplate marriage.” What would her new friends say if they knew about Lone Eagle?

  “Just look at you.” Martha laughed. “Those green eyes and blond hair will have every soldier and civilian within miles knocking on your uncle’s door.”

  The woman meant well—she simply had no idea what a relationship with a white man meant for her. “I think I’ll just wait to make sure I get the finest one of them.”

  Elizabeth’s hand slipped around her waist as though her aunt sensed the turmoil going on inside her head and heart.

  Martha extended an invitation for the Colter women to visit the Jameson household the following week. They could combine tea and talk over a quilting session for Lauren’s new home.

  As dusk settled, Aunt Elizabeth and Katie chatted about the afternoon guests.

  “Did you enjoy Martha and Lauren?” her aunt said while the two prepared dinner.

  “Yes, ma’am, very much. Their visit was much too short. I had few friends in the village. Indian girls were suspicious of me. Mrs. Jameson and Lauren treated me like family, although I wonder about their offer of friendship if they knew the truth about me.”

  “Do you want to forgo seeing them next week?”

  Katie drew in a ragged breath. “No, I gave my word to Pa. This is what I must do.”

  She silently helped prepare the evening meal. Her mind replayed the afternoon with Martha and Lauren Jameson. Both mother and daughter had reached out to her in kindness. Surely they had heard about her association with the Comanches, but they neither questioned her nor shunned her company. Should she tell them?

  Katie picked at the venison stew before her. Ever since the shadows of dusk had crept across the two-room dwelling, her thoughts twisted and turned about Sergeant Sinclair’s visit. She wanted to please her aunt and uncle, but she would have nothing more than a friendship with Sergeant Sinclair.

  “I shouldn’t have given my permission for the sergeant to come courtin’,” Uncle Seth said as he reached for another piece of corn bread. “It’s too soon. Why, I don’t know what I was thinking. Here you are grieving over Jeremiah, and I worry you with a soldier.”

  “No, Uncle, really it’s all right. Sooner or later I would have to go through this, and today it has kept me from missing Pa. You were right in giving him approval.” Why couldn’t her heart believe her words? She wanted to be obedient and honor Pa, but the reservations in her spirit held her captive.

  “But, I didn’t know about…how you were promised to a Comanche warrior,” he said.

  Katie could not reply quickly. To please him, she cut into a piece of venison. While she slowly chewed the meat, her thoughts formed into words.

  “You could have decided not to mention Lone Eagle, but the fact you did tells me you are sensitive to my feelings. You could have demanded I never mention the Comanches, but you chose not to criticize or ridicule the only life I’ve known. My gods are not the same as yours, and still both of you continue to love me and have patience with my hesitancy to accept your ways. I’ve never met anyone like you or Aunt Elizabeth. How could I ever protest anything you say or do?” She took a deep breath before she could continue speaking. “Sometimes I feel like a child with so much to learn, and other times I feel like an old woman with so much to forget. I miss the past, but I made a promise to Pa. If I had stayed with the Comanches, I would have learned to despise what I now love. Pa said that here I’d find my rehoboth. Without the Bible, how could I ever learn what he wanted for me?” Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, not those of anger or frustration but of pleading for understanding when she didn’t comprehend all the changes in her life.

  “God is working in your life, child,” Uncle Seth said. “Even though you don’t recognize it. Let me make this evening easier for you to bear. I’ll tell the sergeant you aren’t feeling well.”

  She shook her head. “I want tonight to go as planned. I can’t run from people who are different, because too many folks have done it to me. Sergeant Sinclair is kind, and I look forward to getting to know him.”

  “You’re a sweet, dear girl,” Aunt Elizabeth said.

  “Well, I don’t think so.” She glanced up. “And that’s a fact. I’m much too stubborn, and I long for the ways of the Indians. The things I repeat to you are the lessons Pa taught me, nothing more. You two are both loving and wise. You don’t judge me or pressure me about anything.” She rose from the table. “Now, if you will excuse me, I’d like to get ready for the sergeant while you finish eating.”

  She stepped outside into the fresh air and breathed in deeply. She didn’t want her aunt and uncle to think she was anything other than a seventeen-year-old orphan struggling with a new life. Uncle Seth and Aunt Elizabeth saw only her youth and naiveté in the white man’s world, but they would cringe if they could read her thoughts, not necessarily rebellion but so many questions.

  She understood the ways of a man and a woman and had been tempted to give up her innocence on more than one occasion.

  She’d seen the scalps of white men, women, and children hanging from the belts of warriors and didn’t voice her alarm to Pa.

  She believed the land belonged to the Indians, and the white men were thieves to try and take it from them.

  She still felt a need to return to the village, even if it meant breaking her promise to Pa.

  And Katie knew in the white man’s eyes she was a heathen and a pagan because she believed in Comanche gods.

  Those things would disappoint the aunt and uncle who loved her dearly, and Katie couldn’t bring herself to ever reveal her innermost thoughts.

  No sooner was the table cleared and cleanup completed than Peyton Sinclair arrived. Hat in hand, he appeared more nervous than Katie. Uncle Seth must have felt sorry for the man, for he suggested the two young people enjoy the mild temperatures in an evening stroll. Once outside the confines of the small house and in the dim twilight where the two could hide their uneasiness, they were able to relax. Peyton’s voice gained confidence, and soon their conversation flowed with the familiarity they had shared in the past.

  “Is life here with your aunt and uncle agreeable?” Peyton said.

  “I’m slowly becoming accustomed to it,” Katie said. “Most of the time, I have to concentrate on the fact that I am white and not an Indian.”

  Peyton laughed easily. “I have never seen a blond Indian before.”

  She liked this man. “It’s not what is on the outside of me, but what’s in my heart.”

  “Miss Colter, are you always so melancholy and serious?”

  She pondered his observation. True, she didn’t laugh as much since Pa died. “I just think too much.”

  “I would consider it an honor to be able to make you smile more,” he said. “You are much too lovely to spend the hours in sadness, but grieving takes time.”

  “Yes, it does,” she said. The couple walked by two soldiers who politely saluted Peyton and tipped their hats to her.

  “They will all be talking about you tomorrow,” she said.

  “Good.” And in the moonlit shadows of evening, she saw him smile.

  “They are probably betting whether I will take your scalp or not.”

  “Would you?”

  “Probably not. I don’t carry a knife here at the fort.”

  “Ah, not only is she pretty, but she has a sense of humor.” He chuckled. “I’ll give you my heart, but I’ll keep my hair.”

  “You have a selfish attitude, Sergeant Sinclair, although I will give it proper thought. What color are your eyes?”

  “Do you want them, too?” he said with an
other chuckle.

  “No, sir.” Katie relaxed and enjoyed their bantering. “I only remember they are soft and kind—perhaps gray?”

  “Yes, gray, and thank you for the compliment. I know yours are green. They remind me of a jade necklace my grandfather gave to my grandmother upon the birth of my father.”

  “What a beautiful story. My mother used to tell me they reminded her of an exotic stone, I guess the same thing.” Katie laughed lightly for the first time. “Of course both of my parents complained my eyes gave away my stubborn streak, ‘cold as stone’ they would say.”

  The two walked a little farther in silence. “Sergeant Sinclair, would you tell me about yourself?”

  “Please, call me Peyton.”

  “If you will call me Katie.”

  “Now that we are beyond the formalities, I’m not an interesting person,” he said. “A soldier’s life is long and repetitious. We begin duty at sunrise, and the day ends around eight thirty.”

  “Oh, but you were a little boy once. You dreamed of things and of places you’d like to go. And I’m sure you always imagined yourself a hero.”

  “I guess I did, but I think your life has been more exciting than mine.”

  A call for the sergeant captured their attention. A soldier rushed to their side, acknowledged Peyton’s rank, and then explained the need for Peyton to see Colonel Ross immediately.

  “I need to escort Miss Colter back home,” Peyton said. “How crucial is this?”

  The soldier glanced at Katie then back to Peyton. “Excuse me, sir, but Comanches attacked another family of settlers. What’s left of ’em are in front of Colonel Ross’s office. I’ve already fetched the doctor for the wounded ones. He needs you right away.”

  “Who are these people?” Peyton said.

  “The Lawrence family.”

  “They had twelve children,” Peyton said, his voice cold and distant.

  “Not anymore, sir. There’s only three left. The rest killed and scalped by them cursed Comanches.” The soldier shifted from one foot to another. “Sorry, Miss Colter. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  She ignored the implication. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Don’t imagine so, miss,” the soldier said. “You bein’ a Colter and all.”

  Chapter Five

  Soldier, your remark was uncalled for,” Peyton said. “You get on back to Colonel Ross and tell him I will be there shortly.”

  “Yes, sir.” The soldier saluted. “I apologize for the remark, sir.”

  “Don’t be apologizing to me. It’s the young lady you have insulted.”

  Katie nodded politely to the soldier’s forced retraction of words. She knew he meant exactly what he’d said. The soldier merely repeated what most other folks said and thought about her. She was Jeremiah Colter’s daughter, an Indian lover, just like one of them murdering savages.

  Confusion pulled and tugged at her heart. Didn’t she believe the Comanches were right in defending their own land? And did she not love a Comanche warrior and long to be with him? Katie knew the answers to those questions were still yes, but the attack upon this family seemed different. Wrong. How could the Lawrences have defended themselves against an armed band of Indians? A family of fourteen had been diminished to three. She failed to see any reason or purpose in their murders. Why the bloodshed? What good could come from destroying a man’s family?

  “Peyton, I want to go with you,” she said. “I want to help those who saw their loved ones die.”

  He stared at her oddly, as well as the other soldier. “It may be very ugly, and the colonel may send you home.”

  “I realize that, but I have to try.”

  No measure of direction could have prepared her for the horror of bloody, mutilated bodies heaped into the back of a wagon. Peyton told her not to look, but when a torch flashed in front of her eyes, she looked directly into the pile of bodies to avoid being blinded. Her stomach curdled. Terror and nausea swept over her while the image of the butchered family burned in her mind. Peyton grabbed her trembling shoulders and whirled her away from the wagon.

  This Pa had spared her.

  “Let me get one of the soldiers to escort you back home,” he said. “This is no place for a woman. I should have had more sense than to allow you to come.”

  She lifted her chin. “The survivors—they need a place to stay away from this nightmare.” She couldn’t describe how she felt about needing to help when she didn’t understand her own compulsion.

  “Others can help.”

  “Then it’s my turn.”

  “Where are the remaining family members?” Peyton said to a soldier.

  The man pointed to a small boy holding a crying baby in the doorway of Colonel Ross’s office. Another soldier deliberately blocked the boy’s vision from the wagon.

  “Wasn’t there a third?” Peyton said.

  “The doc is working on him. He’s hurt pretty bad. Don’t know how he loaded his family into this wagon and got them here.”

  “Sometimes need drives a man beyond what he normally can do,” Peyton said.

  Katie pushed through the crowd to the children. Instantly she knelt beside a dark-haired young boy.

  “Come with me,” she said. “I know a place you can rest.” She reached for the baby, but he refused to let her go. “Let me help you.” She stroked his hair, never taking her eyes off his young face. “I’ll help you with the baby.”

  The boy appeared to be dazed—his eyes bore into the darkness.

  “She’s hungry,” he finally said.

  “We can get her something to eat. What’s her name?” One hand continued to weave her fingers through his hair and the other rested on the baby’s blanket.

  “Emily.”

  “And what is your name?”

  “Jacob.”

  “Well, Jacob. Let’s go where it’s quiet and feed your baby sister.”

  Jacob glanced toward the wagon, but the soldier moved within his eyesight. Slowly he relinquished the baby and set her in Katie’s arms. She looked for a familiar face and caught the attention of the soldier who had first alerted Peyton to the tragedy.

  “Can you walk me back to my aunt and uncle’s?” she said, gathering up the shaking, cold hand of little Jacob.

  “You’re doing a mighty fine thing, miss,” the soldier said as they moved away from the crowd.

  “For a Colter?”

  The soldier said nothing more.

  Jacob Lawrence, age six, and his year-old sister, Emily, were the only surviving members of the Lawrence family. Their brother Jason died before morning. No one knew how the two youngest members of the family escaped the murders, and Jacob seemingly chose to blot out the memory of the deaths from his mind. The parents and ten children were buried alongside each other in the Limpia Valley, where the wildflowers grew and blossomed each spring.

  Katie found a sense of renewed spirit by tending to the children. The sadness and grief, which filled so much of her hours, vanished in light of caring for the orphans. She gave up her bed for Jacob, and Uncle Seth constructed a cradle for Emily. At night, when Jacob cried out with the nightmares plaguing his little mind, Katie held him close until sleep allowed him to forget. And when Jacob’s sobbing woke Emily, Katie held them both. One night in the darkness she felt Aunt Elizabeth’s arms around them all.

  “Dear Lord, have mercy on these little children. Let them sleep in peace and open their eyes to Your love.”

  Uncle Seth’s hand rested on Katie’s shoulder, and his deep calm voice gave her strength.

  “Oh merciful Lord, we praise Your almighty name. We thank You for preserving the lives of Jacob and Emily. We humbly ask that You bring healing to their minds, and grant them a heart that loves You.”

  Katie swallowed her tears and held tightly to the children. Seth’s prayer frustrated her. Why did he praise the same God who had brought such misfortune to the Lawrence family?

  In the days following, Aunt Elizabeth seemed to b
eam with the presence of youth and life around her. She fussed over Katie for the circles beneath her eyes but stayed up late fashioning clothes for Jacob and Emily. Katie teased her for balancing both children on her full lap while telling stories. Martha and Lauren assisted in finding additional clothes and made frequent visits to check on all of those living in the Colter household. Even the soldier who had insulted her that tragic evening arrived with a candy stick for Jacob and words of encouragement for the Colters. And Peyton didn’t miss a day, if only for a moment, to call upon all of them. He never came empty handed, even though his gift might be nothing more than a polished rock for Jacob. Katie found herself looking forward to his visits. His half smile and wit moved her to laughter time and time again. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so content.

  “Aunt Elizabeth, do you mind if I take the children to pick flowers?” Katie said late one morning. “I don’t think they will be in bloom much longer with the fall weather.”

  “I have a mind to go with you, too,” the older woman said.

  “Good. Before we know it, cold weather will keep us around the fire.”

  The two gathered up Jacob and Emily and set out for the lush grasslands around Limpia. When Katie pointed out sunflowers in full bloom, Jacob let go of her hand and hurried to the thick of them. The women sat and allowed Emily to play in the midst of the wildflowers.

  “I love this time of year, don’t you?” Katie said.

  Her aunt nodded. “Even if we know winter is on its way.” She snatched up a yellow bloom from Emily’s hand. “No, ma’am, not in your mouth. I don’t know if these are poisonous or not, but I’m not taking any chances.”

  Katie shook her head at Emily. “I’d like to make you a wreath for your hair, but I’m afraid you would eat it.”

  “Go ahead, she’d look so pretty,” Aunt Elizabeth said. “I’ll keep it out of her mouth.”

  Katie called for Jacob, and the two headed for a patch of reddish-colored mountain sage. The little boy sat quietly and watched Katie twist and turn the vines and blossoms into a wreath. Katie sat it atop his head.

  “Boys don’t wear flowers,” he said. “Give it to Emily.” Jacob raced to her aunt and placed the flower ring on his sister’s head.