Sunflower

by Jill Marie Landis

  Did he expect her to turn and kiss him good-bye?

  “Aren’t you even going to say good-bye?”

  “Ja. Ja, Caleb.” Whirling, she faced him, her fear for him heightening her anger. “Good-bye. Ride away to be killed. Ride away, knowing that my sister is out there with the Indians. Why not tell me the truth? You can’t. You are still angry and wish to punish me.” She had to turn away from him now; she could not face his closed look. “Ja. Go. Good-bye.”

  There was nothing left for her to do but listen for the sound of his footsteps as he left the room. The sound did not come. Analisa could feel him behind her, standing, waiting, perhaps weighing the meaning behind her outburst. Suddenly she felt his hands on her shoulders. Caleb forced her to face him once again. Before she could speak, he lowered his head and pressed a searing kiss on her lips. He held her so close she could feel the wide buckle of his gun belt cutting into her waist. He pulled her closer, his hands playing along her spine, and pressed his hips to hers.

  His arms encircled her as his lips ground against hers, forcing her to open her mouth and welcome his insistent tongue. Without relinquishing his hold, Caleb stepped forward, pressing her backward, maneuvering her toward the bed. Analisa felt the mattress dip beneath her thighs as Caleb bent over her, forcing her down on the coverlet. She was helpless to stop him, nor did she want to. His touch set her senses reeling just as they had when he first held her in his arms. She could not hold on to her anger while his body worked its magic on hers. Analisa began to return his kiss full measure. Her tongue toyed with his, exploring, darting, exchanging the maddening sensations that caused her to feel the sudden delicious warmth that radiated from deep inside her. She moaned, pulled her lips away from his, and buried her face against his shoulder.

  “Oh, Anja.” His voice sounded far away, unsure. “Nothing ever comes easy for you, does it?” He sighed, his breath teasing the column of her throat. “I would tell you everything if I thought it would help. But it won’t. For now, you will have to trust me.”

  When she failed to respond, he gave her a squeeze. Analisa kept her eyes closed against his shoulder. She refused to believe he would not come back. Caleb would be fine. He could do anything.

  “Are you listening?”

  “Ja.”

  “When this thing is all over, when Hardy’s on his way back to Washington, I’ll ask Ely for all the men he can spare. We’ll be in contact with posts all over the West. If your brother and sister can be found, I’ll find them ... but not now, Anja. Not now. One problem at a time is all I can handle.”

  Her heart went out to him. She knew she was pushing Caleb too hard, asking for far too much, but she could not seem to stop.

  “Are you sure, Caleb? Tell me you have not seen any white children who might be Meika and Pieter.”

  Again he paused. “They are no longer children, Anja.”

  “I know that, but—”

  He began to pull away, to straighten his clothes. She watched him with regret, her eyes misting over with tears.

  “They may not want to be found,” he said finally.

  “I must try.”

  “We will try together,” he assured her, and then added, “when this is all over.”

  He pulled her toiler feet. Unable to resist, she linked her arms about his neck.

  “You must go now?” she whispered.

  “Ja.” He gave her a crooked smile and disengaged himself. He crossed the room. Caleb reached for his dark, wide-brimmed hat and put it on. His hair, still in a queue at the nape of his neck, was hidden by the lowered brim. “I’ll be back.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  God go with you, she thought, as she watched him walk out the door. Suddenly, Caleb was gone. A helpless feeling settled over her like a sodden cloak, her worry compounded by the knowledge that he had lied to her.

  Analisa tried to shake off her tension as she crossed the darkened parade ground, this time alone. It was time she collected Kase and took him home to bed.

  She entered the commissary and searched the crowd for Ruth. The deep raspberry gown caught her eye, and Analisa hurried across the room to join her friend.

  “It seems you’ve lost Don Ricardo,” Frank Williamson commented. Analisa noticed the familiar way the man’s hand now rested on Ruth’s waist. He was fairly beaming, his smile spread from ear to ear, his ruddy complexion flushed redder from the heat of the room as well, it seemed, as Ruth’s nearness.

  Analisa smiled up at him. “He has retired for the evening. He must leave before dawn.”

  “He is certainly devoted to his work. I’m afraid I’d find it hard to leave my wife—if I had one, that is—to go off digging up a lot of weeds.” The man shook his head as he smiled down at Ruth.

  Caleb’s stepmother returned his smile and then added, “Well, I have only known Don Ricardo a short while, but I know he is committed to his cause. Is everything all right, dear?” Her eyes searched Analisa’s face.

  “Of course. I have returned to collect Kase, as well as Ricardo’s hat and my shawl. It’s time Kase was in bed.”

  “I’ll be happy to take him home,” Ruth volunteered easily, “if you care to stay.”

  Analisa looked around the room. The crowd was thinning now, many of the couples content to chat while seated on the short wooden stools scattered about the room. She noticed Zach Elliot leaning near the side entrance, his hat in his hand, his usually unruly white hair somewhat tamed into place.

  “No, I don’t want to stay.” She shook her head, pausing to remember the feel of Caleb’s arms about her as they waltzed together. Wanting nothing to detract from the memory, she chose not to dance with anyone else. “I think I’ll go home now. You come along whenever you are ready, Ruth.” Although she wanted desperately to talk to Ruth, Analisa did not intend to keep her friend from enjoying the major’s attentions.

  Excusing herself, Analisa sought out Abbie at the refreshment table. The buxom woman no longer bustled to and fro, but was seated on a stool behind the table. The crumbly remains of cakes and pies gave testimony to the party’s culinary success.

  “Abbie, is Kase with the other boys?” In her perturbed state Analisa had failed to notice him when she entered the room. Now she looked around apprehensively.

  Abbie hefted her bulk off of the squat stool and pointed to a spot under the table. Analisa peered beneath the long tablecloth. The sight that met her eyes warmed her heart, and for a moment her problems were forgotten. Kase lay curled up beneath the table, his cheek resting on her folded shawl, his head covered by Caleb’s bowler hat. Typical of an exhausted child, he was oblivious to the noise around him and slept blissfully. Analisa bent down and gently pulled him toward her. She lifted him carefully and tried to disturb him as little as possible while Abbie retrieved the hat and covered the boy with the shawl.

  “I’ll bring the hat with me,” Abbie decided, seeing that Analisa’s hands were full. Kase slept undisturbed against his mother’s shoulder.

  “Thank you, Abbie. I’ll see you at home.”

  Analisa turned to cross the room, choosing to exit through the side door rather than make her way among the dancers. As she reached the open door, she smiled at Zach. He seemed content to stand in the doorway rather than ask anyone to dance.

  “You haven’t danced tonight, Zach?” she asked lightly.

  “Naw. Ain’t no one going to want to get that close to this ugly mug, Miz de la Vega.” She noticed his mouth was free of the usual plug of tobacco. He looked as if he wanted to spit anyway, out of sheer habit.

  “I would have, if I had known you would be here.”

  He seemed to sense her sincerity, and a half-smile broke his usual stern countenance and played tricks with his scarred cheek.

  “Well, if I’d a known that, I’d a sure been here earlier.” He turned to look out into the darkness behind him and then glanced at the sleeping boy before he spoke again. “I told Don Ricardo I’d take care of that pinto he brought the boy, but I been thin
kin’ that mebbe we’d better not say anything to the kid about it. It’ll be a while before I can trust that pony not to hightail it back to wherever it came from. If Kase knows about it, he’ll be badgerin’ the hell outta me to ride it.”

  “Pinto?” She didn’t understand the term. Her confusion was apparent to Zach.

  “He didn’t tell you yet?”

  “No, we have barely spoken. Don Ricardo was exhausted and went to bed early.”

  “Well, he brought the boy an Indian pony. Traded his vittles for it. Got himself a fine deal, too. Only thing is, the animal’s half wild and sure to run back to his herd first chance he gets. It’s not even shod.” Zach looked fondly at the boy in her arms. “He’s sure gonna be excited when he does find out.”

  “Can I carry the boy home for you, Miz de la Vega?”

  Gratefully she nodded at Zach. “That would be very kind of you, Mr. Elliot. Thank you.”

  She transferred her son to the scout’s waiting arm’s, and although he opened his eyes and looked about, Kase was soon asleep once more, this time with his head on Zach’s shoulder.

  When they reached the front door, Analisa refrained from inviting Zach to enter and took Kase back into her arms. Bidding Zach good night and thanking him once again, she carried her son indoors. Soon he was tucked between the sheets of her own bed, and within moments, Galileo was kneading the quilt near Kase’s feet, preparing to sleep beside the boy, as usual. It should be Caleb sleeping next to me tonight, she thought as she stared down at the boy’s midnight-black hair.

  She smoothed the coverlet drawn up beneath Kase’s chin, and suddenly she was reminded of Zach’s words. Caleb had brought Kase a horse, an Indian pony of some sort. She tried but failed to remember the word Zach used to describe the pony. If the scout felt it best not to tell Kase about the horse, she would defer to his wishes.

  Analisa undressed and slipped into her nightgown. It had become her habit recently to pull on Caleb’s flannel robe over her nightdress. As she cinched the belt tight about her waist to close the wrapper, Analisa recalled something else Zach had said. “It’ll be a while before I can trust that pony not to hightail it back to wherever it came from ...” She sank to the side of the bed and sat lost in thought. Slowly an idea began to take shape in her mind, and with every passing second Analisa became more certain about what she intended to do.

  The front door opened and closed. Stepping into the parlor, she found Ruth and Abbie just returning from the dance.

  “Analisa! I hope we didn’t wake you.” Ruth looked concerned as she watched Analisa close the bedroom door behind her. “Is Caleb asleep?”

  “Caleb is not here, Ruth. I need to talk with you for a moment.” Analisa saw the curiosity in Abbie’s eyes as the cook left the two women alone.

  Ruth’s face was shadowed with worry. She crossed the room and draped her ivory shawl over the back of a chair.

  Analisa admired Ruth’s calm. She never pushed or expressed impatience. The woman was content to wait until Analisa was ready to talk.

  “I am going to leave here tonight, Ruth, and I want you to give me your word that you will not tell anyone that I have gone. Please watch over Kase for me.”

  “What! Where are you going?” Ruth’s eyes were wide and searching. “You aren’t going after Caleb, are you?”

  “Yes, in a way, but I am not going to let him know I am following him.”

  “How in the world are you going to track him in the dark? Even if you knew where you were going, you would be insane to travel alone.”

  Analisa shook her head, “I can’t tell you, Ruth. The more you know, the more you could tell the major if he asks. Caleb’s safety depends on secrecy.”

  Ruth stood and walked across the room only to sit down again, this time on one of the straight-back oak chairs beside the dining table. She leaned an elbow on the tafelkleed and turned her worried expression on Analisa.

  “What about your own safety?” Suddenly Ruth’s face took on an expression of anger that Analisa had never thought to see there. “Did Caleb ask you to do this? If he did—”

  “No, Ruth,” Analisa tried to explain. “He knows nothing about it.”

  “What do you hope to accomplish, dear? Have you thought this through?”

  “Yes.” Analisa nodded. “I have to go, Ruth. It may be my only chance to find out if my brother or sister is nearby.”

  “What?”

  “There is much to explain and very little time. I am asking for your trust and your help. I cannot tell you more.”

  “But surely Caleb knows what this means to you and would help you.”

  “Not this time, Ruth. He has asked me to wait until he has finished his work here. This may be the last chance I have; his job here is nearly over.”

  Ruth sighed, and Analisa knew that the woman must have sensed the depth of her determination, for she did not attempt to sway her. “I want to look into something before you go. It won’t take very long.”

  Analisa started to protest.

  “Please?” Ruth asked.

  “I will change. That will give you a few moments, Ruth, but I am leaving soon.”

  Ruth Storm moved toward the door to the room she shared with Abbie. Her hand on the knob, she turned to face Analisa and asked, “When is your birthday, Analisa?”

  “My birthday?”

  “Yes.” Ruth nodded. “When were you born?”

  Although she was puzzled by the question, Analisa told Ruth the date of her birth.

  Without another word, Ruth entered the smaller room.

  It took Analisa little time to change once again. This time she donned her plaid wool dress. Glad that she had not discarded the old-fashioned gown, she smoothed the wide skirt and then changed her shoes. The worn black high-tops would do. All the while, she tried not to think of the darkness outside or of the miles of open country she would have to cross alone. If she allowed herself to dwell on the dangers ahead, she knew her courage would fail her. Hastily, she took down her dark wool winter shawl and crossed it over her breasts, tying it at her waist. It would protect her from the cool spring night.

  Opa’s gun rested on a high shelf that bordered the room. She could not see it from where she was, nor could she reach all the way to the back of it, so she pulled her trunk away from the wall and stood on it. She groped among the folded clothes until she felt the cold metal of the shotgun. Carefully, she lifted it down and then replaced her trunk against the wall. Opening the lid, she dug out the tin of bullets and, clutching them, stood up.

  The soft light from the lamps in the parlor crept through the open door of the bedroom. Glancing around the shadowed room, Analisa checked one last time to be certain that she was ready. As a final precaution she repinned the crown of braids upon her head. She was ready. Moving to the side of the bed, she bent and kissed her son’s brow, careful not to disturb him. Nothing would happen to her, she vowed. Nothing would keep her from coming back to Kase.

  Quietly she withdrew from the room and closed the door behind her. Ruth was seated at the dining table, her head bent as she studied a sheet of paper. A worn leather-bound book rested beside the page. When she noted Analisa’s entrance, she lifted the volume and thumbed through the pages. Ruth’s glasses were once again in place, perched on the end of her nose.

  “I’m ready, Ruth.”

  “Give me a few minutes more, my dear. I’ve made a pot of tea, and I suggest you have a cup before you leave. Did you think about packing yourself some food?”

  Analisa felt the blood rush to her cheeks. Embarrassed at having almost forgotten such an important item, she walked into the kitchen to pack food and water. When that was done, she poured a cup of tea and joined Ruth at the table.

  “It’s not much, but enough to help, I believe. At least I am reassured.” Looking up from her work, Ruth peered at Analisa over the rims of her glasses.

  Wary, afraid that Ruth would try to talk her out of leaving, Analisa was hesitant to ask her to explain and s
o sat in silence.

  “This,” Ruth said, indicating the page before her, “is your horoscope. It is a chart that maps out the twists and turns your life will take, according to the position of the stars on the day you were born.”

  “Stars?” Analisa stared down at the paper. Strange squiggles and lines that resembled worms and arrows surrounded a circle in the center of the page. The sphere was divided into pie-shaped wedges, the whole drawing making as little sense to Analisa as Ruth’s words did. She sipped her tea and tried not to lose her patience. Eventually, everything Ruth did made sense, although the reason was not always apparent at first.

  “It would take too long for me to explain all of this to you now,” Ruth said, “but it is something I find very helpful when I have a major decision to make. You see, you were born under a certain sign that was determined by where the stars were on the day that you were born. You are a Pisces, your symbol is the fish.” She pointed to a small mark on the page that looked like a floating water beetle.

  Analisa sighed and stared at Ruth.

  “Oh, dear.” The woman appeared frustrated by her lack of time as well as Analisa’s failure to find her words comprehensible. “Although I am not at all delighted about this scheme of yours, Analisa, I don’t think you could have chosen a better time. Your stars are all favorable right now, and anything that you attempt, should succeed.”

  “Good.” Slapping her palms against the decorative tablecloth, Analisa stood and looked down at Ruth. She had delayed long enough. “I do not know what you just said, but I will hope that you are right about my chances for success. I am going now.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The sun seemed intent upon exerting the strength it had gained with the arrival of May. Although the heat of midday had abated, the sun still blazed hot enough to rouse Analisa from a fitful sleep. Stretched out beneath the shade of a budding maple, she awoke with a start, to discover that exhaustion had forced her to abandon her vigil. She sat up and with an open palm pushed back the wild tangle of sun-bleached hair from her eyes. Opa’s gun lay on the ground beside her. Rubbing her hand against her hip, Analisa tried to ease the ache in her side as she searched the ground for the cause of her discomfort. A sharp rock was embedded in the soil, one she had overlooked earlier. Her intent had been to close her eyes for a moment or two, but she could tell by the sun’s position that she had slept for hours. Drawing her knees toward her chest, she rested her elbows on them and propped her chin in her cupped hands.