Sunflower

by Jill Marie Landis

  Anger welled up behind Red Dog’s eyes. “By the white chief, Hardy?”

  Caleb nodded. “You know of him?”

  “Yes. He deals in women. The next time he comes to deal with me, I will kill him.”

  “You have sold him women?” Caleb hoped to gain answers before Red Dog took offense at his question.

  Anger was apparent even in the man’s hushed tones. “We were making plans to trade for Mia and for other women of our band who were taken in by the soldiers before the winter came.”

  “What does Hardy ask in return?”

  “Furs sometimes, if we are trying to reclaim our captives. In the case of our own women, he would have asked for others to replace them—Crow or Blackfeet, perhaps, but he prefers whites.”

  Trying to cover his astonishment, Caleb gently prodded the man with more questions. “What else does he give you in such exchanges?”

  Red Dog smirked, contempt for Hardy etched on his face. “He gives us guns in return for some of the women we take him, or gold so that we can buy guns to kill his kind. This time he has gone too far. He will walk right into my trap. The guns will be used on him. All I need to do is send word that I have a white woman to trade.”

  Red Dog was giving him all the information he needed in order to trap Hardy, but unlike the younger man, Caleb did not wish to see the agent dead. Justice would be served to the letter of the law, for Caleb intended to see that Hardy stood trial and that his atrocities became public knowledge. There were too many agents like him scattered over the frontier. If the BIA was to improve its services, men like Hardy would have to be paraded before the highest powers in the land. That was Ely Parker’s secret dream, and Caleb hoped to help to make that dream a reality.

  “I saw a white girl among the people when I rode in. Will you use her to tempt him here?”

  Red Dog’s expression became guarded at the mention of the white girl. “She is not for trade. She is the wife of Swift Otter.”

  “I had not seen her before.”

  Contempt was heavy in Red Dog’s tone when he replied. “Does the white blood mixed in your veins tempt you to have her?”

  Ignoring the statement, Caleb met Red Dog’s stare. “I am curious. I thought I had seen all the people of the camp.”

  “Swift Otter and his band arrived this morning. We camp apart for the winter. Now that the snows are gone, many more will join us.”

  Standing, Red Dog turned his back on Caleb, ending the discussion. Any other guest would not have been treated in such a rude manner, but Caleb knew that his white blood as well as Red Dog’s lack of trust in him had prompted the abrupt dismissal.

  Rising from the mat, Caleb ducked low and stepped out of the tepee. Dusk shrouded the camp while the people inside their dwellings shared the evening meal. Now more than ever, Caleb missed Analisa and Kase. He had no one here. He knew he wasn’t likely to get another glimpse of the white girl before morning, even if he prowled the camp. Perhaps it would be just as well if he set out toward the fort, as he’d done earlier. It would not be that late when he arrived. He had to send a message to Parker, with details and documentation of the incidents proving the agent’s guilt. Caleb knew that someone could be killed before this drama was played out. It was imperative that he send word to Washington before that happened.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Mama? Mama!” The boy tugged at her shoulder.

  “Mama, everyone is awake and Abbie has breakfast ready. This is the dance day, Mama. Don’t you want to get up?”

  Analisa pulled herself up on one elbow and leaned toward her son, touching his cheek with her lips. The sun was already high, the bedroom flooded with light. She stretched, raising her arms high over her head, and remembered that tonight the long awaited dance would be held in honor of the Boyntons’ sister, as well as her own guests.

  “Yes, I’d better get up, hadn’t I, Kase? We have to prepare the food, and Tor is coming in with some of the men to take the organ over to the commissary.” She flipped back the sheet and quilt and moved to the edge of the bed. “You run along, and I’ll be there in a moment. Tell Abbie I’m sorry I overslept.”

  As Kase opened the door, Ruth peered into the room. She was already dressed in a crisp white blouse and green skirt, her hair pulled into a tidy roll. Her glasses rode atop her head, crowning the wavy mass.

  “I’m sorry he woke you, Analisa. I intended for you to sleep a while longer. You’ve been working so late that I thought you could use a little extra rest.”

  Ruth crossed the room to inspect two beautiful dresses hanging along the wall. As Analisa slipped her stockings on and then her klompen, Ruth fingered the material of the gowns, straightening ruffles and fluffing the skirts.

  “You’ve done a marvelous job on these, Analisa. What a task, and what a talent you have!”

  Analisa flushed at the compliment and thanked Ruth before she quickly pulled off her nightgown and drew on her old yellow calico dress. She walked to the dresser and, while she continued her conversation with Caleb’s stepmother, parted her hair, separated it into two sections, and began to braid it.

  “It was a job I enjoyed,” she told Ruth. “I could not have done it without the aid of your gift, Ruth.” Ruth had brought a new sewing machine from Boston for Analisa. The overwhelming gesture was such a surprise and delight that she had insisted on making dresses for Ruth and Abbie as well as one for herself. Even though Abbie declined the offer and there was one less to make, the task had forced Analisa to work long hours in order to complete the gowns before the dance.

  “For a time I thought you were ready to send that sewing machine back home with me.” Ruth laughed, turning once more to face Analisa.

  Deftly, Analisa plaited the second braid, wound it about the crown of her head, and pinned it securely, forming a golden coronet.

  “The little booklet with the drawings and instructions didn’t help much.”

  Ruth laughed as she recalled Analisa’s attempts. “I’ll never forget the look on your face once you got it threaded and were able to make the treadle pump the needle. It was priceless. You looked as if you’d just invented the thing yourself.” Ruth thought for a moment before she added, “You know, you could make a fortune in the East if you were to open your own salon. You have quite a talent for design.”

  A soft smile turned up the corners of Analisa’s lips as she remembered Pella and the discoveries she’d made as she learned from one experimental dress and then another. All the nights she’d spent poring over pictures and making patterns in the dim lamplight of the soddie had helped her develop a talent that was second nature to her now.

  “What a difference the machine makes, Ruth. I am so lucky to have it.” Analisa stood in the doorway, waiting for Ruth to join her. She smoothed the waistline of her dress before she looked at the woman once again. “And I’m lucky to have you, too.”

  Ruth took her by the shoulders and studied Analisa’s eyes before she spoke.

  “I’m so pleased to have you in my family, Analisa. Caleb made a wonderful choice when he married you. For a time I thought that he would never marry. He’s always been such a loner. You are a very special lady.” She gave Analisa a quick hug and then added, “I’m going to skin him alive, though, next time I see him. He should be checking on you more often.”

  It was Analisa’s turn to laugh. “I’m trying not to ‘hem him in.’ Didn’t you warn me about that yourself, Ruth?”

  “I guess I did, but this is ridiculous. Besides, I’m anxious to see him myself. Come, dear. Abbie has breakfast waiting for you.”

  The day passed quickly, with everyone in the household engaged in preparations for the party. Abbie and Ruth worked in the kitchen, determined to bake pies that, as Abbie declared, “would cause a man’s heart to stop beating.” Analisa hemmed and pressed the new gowns and was well pleased with her handiwork. For Ruth, she’d worked with a raspberry watered silk. The material had been packed inside a box of fabric intended as a gift for Ana
lisa, but she insisted on using it for Ruth. The shade was too overpowering for her own fair coloring, but perfectly enhanced Ruth’s dark hair and hazel eyes. Since Abbie had refused a new gown, Analisa had stitched a full length ruffled white apron for the cook to wear over one of her own dresses.

  For herself, Analisa had chosen a material unlike any other fabric she’d ever worked with. It was a pale pink muslin striped with ribbons of white that were embroidered with tiny blue flowers. From it she had fashioned a gown with a narrow skirt and a lower neckline than any she’d ever worn—but only due to a miscalculation on her part. The pattern she’d drawn had seemed perfect, but when Analisa tried on the finished dress, she found the neckline far lower than she anticipated. The material was too precious to discard, however, and Ruth thought the gown stunning, insisting that the bodice was flattering and Analisa’s figure well suited for it, so Analisa was finally convinced she should wear it, with a shawl for modesty’s sake.

  By the time evening arrived, the members of Analisa’s new family stood assembled in the parlor awaiting Private Jensen, who was to escort them across the parade ground.

  “Is it time to go, Mama?” Kase asked impatiently.

  “As soon as Tor gets here. Why don’t you go out on the porch and watch for him?”

  The boy ran quickly to the door, his dark hair bobbing as he moved. He looked quite the young gentleman in his wool suit and suspenders, his shoes shined to a high gleam.

  “I hope nobody cuts that pie before we get there,” Abbie spoke up as she walked impatiently to the window and drew the curtain aside. The woman seemed as anxious as Kase for the party to begin.

  “He’s here!” Kase shouted as he popped in the doorway and then out again.

  Analisa drew a lightweight shawl over her shoulders, knotted it across her breasts, then ran her hand up the back of her neck to catch any stray wisps of hair that might have slipped from the coil on her head.

  “You look lovely, dear,” Ruth whispered behind her as they moved toward the doorway. “I only wish Caleb was here to see you. He would be so proud.”

  Unexpectedly Analisa felt her eyes mist over with tears. She, too, wished Caleb were here. Suddenly she knew she was anxious to see him, not because of the information she wanted, but because she truly missed having him beside her. Ruth’s presence only made that fact more apparent to Analisa. Her excitement over attending her first social gathering was lessened by Caleb’s not being here to share it with her. Apprehension assailed her at the thought of moving among so many people as an equal. Indeed, in their eyes she was supposed to be something more than an equal, as the wife of Professor Don Ricardo Corona de la Vega. All week she’d been so involved in her sewing efforts that the thought of what this night would mean had escaped her. Overwhelmed, she stopped before she reached the threshold. Kase and Abbie were already moving toward the pathway as Tor stood looking back toward the house.

  “Analisa?” Ruth’s voice sounded far away, but it served to call her back to the present.

  “I can’t go.” Analisa was surprised at the sound of her own voice, a croaking whisper. Fear constricted her throat.

  “Are you ill, dear? You look so pale.”

  She blinked twice as she studied the worried look in Ruth’s eyes. Unable to speak, Analisa merely shook her head.

  “What is it?”

  “I can’t do this, Ruth,” she said at last. “I don’t know how. I have never been among such a large group of people ... since ... I ... I don’t belong there. It is not right.”

  Ruth was silent for a moment before she spoke. Analisa watched as the smaller woman drew herself up and reached out to place a hand on each of her shoulders.

  “Listen to me. You have every right to be there tonight. If Caleb were here, you know he’d tell you the same thing. Make him proud of you, Analisa. Hold your head high and walk into that place as if you own it. Do you understand?”

  Analisa took one deep breath and then another to calm her racing heart. The palms of her hands were sweating. She knew that there was no sense in looking back, there never had been. Through the open door she could see the lights shining in the commissary windows, and she watched as silhouetted figures moved across them. When would it become easy? Would she ever be able to leave the past behind? One thing was certain, she would never forgive herself if she did not face her own fears. Analisa toyed with the ends of her shawl. Finally she nodded at Ruth and whispered her answer.

  “Yes. I’m ready.”

  “Good, then, let’s go. The others are waiting.”

  Caleb dismounted slowly and held his spine straight in order to conceal his usual fluid movements. Bowler hat poised atop his head, he stood beside Scorpio and surveyed the darkened stable yard. The sounds of horses shuffling around in the corrals and stalls that lined the long wooden building filled the night air. He could hear music in the distance and wondered for a moment if it came from the enlisted men’s quarters, for often in the evenings the soldiers amused themselves with song. Light from a single lamp inside the tack room slipped through a slight opening where the door stood ajar. Listening intently, Caleb heard the sound of bootshod feet moving about in the small room. He guessed it was Zach Elliot.

  Several burlap bags full of plant samples and cuttings hung from Caleb’s saddle, many with root balls intact. He’d give a month’s pay just to see the expression on Ely Parker’s face when he opened the first crate of plants shipped to an address established for their exchange of information. None of the plants were of value or the least bit extraordinary. Caleb collected the samples at random on each return trip to the fort in order to provide some cover for his absence. Now that he’d discovered proof that Hardy was guilty of illegal dealings with the Indians, he hoped that the charade would end soon.

  Releasing the bags from his saddle, he lowered them to the ground and gave Scorpio an affectionate scratch beneath his jaw.

  “Your friend doesn’t look as happy to be here as you are, boy.” He whispered softly to his own mount as he unwound the lead rope from the pommel of his saddle. At the end of the line skittered a nervous pinto, its soft eyes round with fear. The pony was one of six that Caleb now owned and let run with the renegade herd. Horses stolen from other bands comprised the lot. A Sioux’s wealth was judged by the string of horseflesh he owned, and so Caleb had begun to amass his own small herd as soon as he joined the band.

  He hoped the spirited pinto would eventually make a fine mount for Kase. For now he would warn Elliot to keep the boy off the pony and secure it, for the animal would most likely attempt to return to the herd if given its head. The trick would be to convince Zach Elliot that, as Don Ricardo, he had no knowledge of the worth of the pinto.

  He took a deep breath, straightened his glasses, and wrapped the lead rope around his hand before he set off toward the tack room to face Elliot.

  “Señor Elliot,” Caleb called out as he stood near the slightly open door. He listened as the man inside set something down on the wooden workbench that lined one wall.

  Zach opened the door wide, and light spilled out, staining the crooked back step with its yellow light.

  The man in the doorway nodded a silent greeting.

  “Señor Elliot,” Caleb began again, heavily lacing his words with the lisping Castilian accent, “I have returned with a new horse for my son. Perhaps you will be so kind as to look the animal over for me?”

  Stepping aside as Zach moved wordlessly out of the tack room and into the path of light cast by the oil lamp suspended from the ceiling of the tiny closetlike room, Caleb fumbled with the rope wrapped about his hand. Finally allowing the line to pull free, he passed it to Zach and stepped back to allow the other man to lead the pony into the arch of lamplight beyond the doorway.

  Caleb cleared his throat and met Zach’s stare before the scout turned his attention to the pinto. Running his hands over the horse’s chest and down each leg, Zach chose to remain silent as he assessed the worth of the animal in the darkness,
his hands telling him more about the horse than his eye could see. The man finally straightened and moved to stand near the pony’s head, holding fast to the rope bridle.

  He spat into the dust. “Where’dja get this horse?”

  Caleb noted the suspicion that tainted the man’s tone. “My friend, it is a long story. I was on my way back from gathering plant specimens when I came upon an Indian and his family camped near the river.”

  Zach stared out from beneath the floppy brim of his hat and spat again.

  Don Ricardo cleared his throat nervously and continued. “They were in need of food, and I had supplies left. Knowing I would be here within a few hours, I offered them food. The man insisted I take the horse in return. I gave them a gold piece in trade as well, but I have no idea of the animal’s worth.”

  Elliot expressed himself in what Caleb could only describe as a doubtful grunt and spat one more stream of tobacco juice before he spoke. He pushed the brim of his hat back with a gnarled thumb and indicated the pony with a quick nod.

  “It’ll do.”

  “Will it run off, do you think?” Caleb asked, knowing full well the horse would bolt if given half a chance.

  “Yep. I’ll keep him corraled till he gets used to bein’ here. Wouldn’t do for the boy to be hurt.”

  Caleb’s eyes widened in alarm at the man’s words. “If you think there is a chance of my son’s becoming harmed by the worthless animal, I’ll turn it loose immediately.”

  “I’ll watch ‘em both.” Zach stroked the pony’s nose.

  “Gracias, Señor Elliot. Gracias.” Caleb bowed slightly, formally, before he turned to lead Scorpio into the corral.

  “Mr. de la Vega?”

  Zach’s voice cut the air, demanding Caleb’s attention.

  “¿Sí?”

  “How’d you understand that Indian fella you ran into?”

  “¿Perdón?”

  “How’d you know he wanted to trade the horse for food?”

  Zach’s face was blank. Caleb could detect no suspicion there and yet he knew the man must have a reason for asking such a question.