Wildflower

by Raine Cantrell

  “I’m for turnin’ in. You got any smarts, you’ll do the same to get your early start come mom-in’.” He gave Sam a considering look. “Be best you do move on. Jenny’s a strong woman, but she ain’t got the kind of strength to deal with bein’ hurt over a man again. Jonas like to killed her softness and joy and love and everythin’ good inside her. You jus’ remember that when you ride out,” he growled in warning. “Iffen you ever decide to ride back, it better be for all the right reasons. I made one mistake with Jonas. I won’t be makin’ one with you.”

  With a threat he couldn’t answer ringing in his ears, Sam stretched out on his blanket. Warmed by the whiskey, he should have been asleep in minutes. But he wasn’t. His head began to ache with questions half-asked and only half­answered. They rolled through his mind. And it always came back to why he was near here the day Jenny and Robby shot him.

  Was he friend or foe to Jonas Latham? Was that why the nagging thought of how a man smiled surged to tease his thoughts? Clenching his hand into a fist, he brought it up against his lips, not caring if Ben saw. Christ! He had to find out. He had to!

  What if he had to kill Jonas? Was that the reason he had come here? Could he do that? Could he kill the man and then come looking to take his wife and son for his own? Would Ben stop at nothing to protect Jenny?

  The questions haunted him. The remembered feel and taste of Jenny plagued him.

  But when morning finally came and he had lost too much sleep, he had gained something more. By the time dawn had fully broken, he’d left Ben’s cabin knowing he had more answers than either Ben or Jenny wanted him to have.

  Chapter Ten

  Turning away from the dead ashes of the fire, Jenny slipped back into bed. Sam was gone. His leaving left her with a cold knot of emptiness that had intensified with the slow-moving night. She had lost him. Staring up at the darkened rafters, she wondered why she couldn’t cry.

  Ben was loading up his supplies later that morning, debating with himself about going. It really would serve no purpose for him to stay. Jenny and Robby would be all right through the winter. Besides, he told himself as he worked silently, Jenny didn’t need to have someone around to talk about Sam. Although he would have bet a pile of his best winter’s furs that Sam meant to come back to her, thinking it and giving voice to such hope wasn’t going to help Jenny. She didn’t need a dream to cling to now. She’d done enough of that. And the last time it had turned into a nightmare. A nightmare he held the power to remove, but knowing what reality would replace it, he’d kept silent.

  Shuddering with the chill he felt inside for even daring to think of it, he switched his thoughts to Robby. And he turned to find the boy standing there. Shaking his head, Ben didn’t know what to say. Robby knew Sam was gone, had already pestered him before with the why of it, and even after he’d taken time to explain it all the best way he knew how, Robby was back, sullenly kicking rocks from in front of him.

  “Well, boy, you gonna kick them rocks to hell and back afore you talk?”

  “It just don’t make a bit of sense to me, Ben. Sam said he’d think hard about staying on, then he goes and leaves. Guess Mom is right about not trusting men.”

  “She say that or you thinkin’ it’s what she feels?”

  “Well, it’s true!” Robby declared with seething anger.

  “That so? Me, too, Robby?”

  His head shot up. “You know I’d never think that of you, Ben. But Sam, well, I can’t say I’d be thinking of him with anything but hate for running out, too.”

  Ben’s hand stilled on the rope he was using to tie down the last of his packs. “Boy, if you think like that, you’ll hurt yourself and your ma. She don’t need that from you, son.”

  “Heck! Mom and me don’t need nothing from nobody.”

  “That so?”

  “Yeah,” he muttered with a sharp nod of his head, “that’s so.”

  This time Ben didn’t stop himself but came around his mule to stand in front of Robby, whose head barely reached his thigh. “Now,” he began, placing his huge pawlike hand on the boy’s small shoulder. Robby irritably tried shrugging the hand away. Ben just tightened his hold slightly and Robby stilled. “Boy, we been close as family for all this time. You’re gonna promise me that you’ll help here and not take those notions in front of your ma.”

  Angrily, Robby pulled free, shoving his small fists into his pockets. He wouldn’t look at Ben despite the elder man’s pleading. With a sharper tone, Ben said, “It’s time you took your place and did some growin’, boy. Ain’t sayin’ it’s easy, but I’ll be holdin’ you to it while I’m gone.”

  “I promise to help her, Ben. You ain’t got to ask that.”

  “And,” he prompted, hating the resentment in Robby’s voice.

  “And I won’t say anything about Sam’s leaving,” he finally answered, somewhat reluctantly, kicking hard at another rock.

  “That’s my boy.” Ben reached up to tousle his hair, but Robby pulled away. Ignoring it, he reminded him about caring for his cat.

  “Yeah, sure. I got a cat, but not the dog he promised me. It just ain’t fair! Mom said I could have one. Sam was going to ride me over to Dry Cimarron. Now he runs off. And you know what, Ben?” he shouted with belligerence.

  “Say it, boy,” he softly ordered.

  “I think it was her fault. I think she wanted him to go. She didn’t do a thing to make him want to stay!” Robby stopped, then backed away from the glare of Ben’s eyes. He’d never seen Ben so angry before.

  But Ben’s anger disappeared as quickly. “Go on, boy.” He watched as Robby turned, started to move, then stopped. “Robby, I asked you to grow up some.” He waited while Robby made up his mind and then slowly turned to face him. He had to try to make him understand or his bitterness would plague Jenny. She couldn’t cope with that, too. “Growin’ up means trustin’ your ma, Robby. And me, too. We said Sam needed to find out ‘bout himself. He didn’t mean to forget his promise to you. I swear to that and I ain’t never lied to you, boy.”

  “He’s just like my pa!” Robby exploded. “Running off just like him. He didn’t care about me. He didn’t care about her! And I don’t care. I’m glad he’s gone. I don’t want him here. I’ll forget he ever came. You’ll see. Just see if I don’t!”

  Spinning on his heels, Robby was off and running toward the woods before Ben could move to stop him. Shaking his head, he turned back to his mule. The bam door swung open and he saw Jenny staring at him, her face pale as she walked toward him. “So you heard him?”

  “All of it,” she answered softly. “You tried, Ben, and I thank you. Don’t let this stop you from going. We’ll be all right. Robby will be angry for a while, but he’ll get over it.”

  “He’s riled bad. Sam’s leaving like this brought it all up again.”

  “You think I don’t know?” she cried out. “I thought he had forgotten and I was wrong. Maybe after I sell the mares I can find a dog for him. Sam was right about Robby needing something of his own to tend and love.”

  “And you, Jenny? What about what you need?”

  She looked away toward the woods for long moments before leveling a hardened gaze on his face. “I have Robby. That’s all I need or want.”

  “I know better, girl. It’s not like you to lie to me. You … well, have you got feelings for him?”

  She managed to hide the hurt tearing her insides with his asking. Feelings? Yes, she had feelings that had been left battered and bruised and raw and were screaming to be soothed right now. But Ben was looking at her like he guessed all that, so there was no sense in denying it.

  “He was so gentle with Robby, Ben. I could have learned to care deeply for a man like that. But he didn’t stay and in a way I’m glad he’s gone. It wouldn’t have worked without him knowing who he really is. You know and I know that sooner or later he would have lit out. So I keep telling myself,” she stressed, taking a deep breath before slowly re
leasing it, “it was better it happened now.”

  Cupping his hand on her shoulder, Ben couldn’t help think how much she and Robby were alike, not in looks but inside, where all the pain was hidden. He didn’t know what else to say. If she made one sign, he wouldn’t go. Money would be tight between them, but he wouldn’t go and leave her alone again.

  Jenny forced a small smile, covering his hand and squeezing gently. She managed a reassuring nod.

  “If I don’t get started soon, I’ll still be here come sundown, Jen. You and Robby take care of each other for me. There’s plenty of salted beef and venison in the smokehouse. And don’t be waitin’ long,” he warned, studying the clouds above them, “to take the mares to Bent’s Fort. I don’t want to be worryin’ ‘bout you two on the trail with snow cornin’.”

  This time her smile was sincere for his leaving it all be. “Don’t worry. We’ll start out in the morning. Good trappings, Ben,” she whispered, finding herself crushed in his bearlike hug.

  He released her, tugged on the last knot, and cussed his mules. “See you come spring thaw,” he called out over his shoulder.

  Morning had come with a golden spread of light before Jenny roused herself from sleep. Robby, to her surprise, was already up and dressed, his bed neatly made, smiling at her when she asked if that was coffee she smelled. Hurrying, they ate quickly and headed for the corral.

  While Robby attached the lead ropes to the halters on each of the four mares, Jenny saddled their own horses. Robby was laughing by the time he caught his kitten and managed to keep her in the basket tied to his pommel. Jenny felt reassured that he seemed to have put Sam from his thoughts. She helped him adjust his stirrups, his dun-colored mare standing quietly until she mounted her sorrel and started off. She was glad to be away from here herself. Perhaps by the time they returned the memory of Sam would have faded somewhat.

  As they started out, Jenny felt a sense of un­ease. She scanned the trail behind them countless times and saw nothing, but the feeling of being watched persisted. But by the time they crossed the Chacuaco Creek, following a small, well-worn trail that led to the canyon itself, she’d managed to shrug it aside. They rode single file, Jenny in the lead, the four mares following, and Robby bringing up the rear. He began singing an old mountain song that Ben had taught him and Jenny found herself joining him. The air was crisp, promising cold weather, and she welcomed it. Sunlight filtered down through the pines as they made their way alongside the swirling ribbon of the creek.

  The day passed without incident, although Jenny couldn’t shake off her growing feeling of unease. Dusk found them making camp, but that night sleep was a long time coming.

  Sam had forced her to bring the past into the open. She didn’t want to remember the last time she had seen Jonas.

  Chiding herself, she lay back down. If they intended to reach the fort by late afternoon tomorrow, she had to sleep. And Jonas couldn’t come back, she reminded herself. Not ever.

  Much as she hated touching the weapon she had shot Sam with, she was glad Ben had returned the rifle to her. And she slept knowing it was within easy reach.

  The next day they rode along the swollen banks of the Arkansas River for almost a mile before she chose a low spot to cross.

  “Keep alert now, Robby,” she warned, thinking of the attacks by the Cheyenne on lone travelers. She had never had any trouble with them, but the massacre at Sand Creek ten years before had left its mark. The colonel had followed the direct orders from the district commander to make the Indians suffer, but no reparations made to the tribes after the congressional investigation could exonerate the army’s slaughter of Indian women and children.

  With the river running high, water soaked her boots and Robby’s pant legs were dripping when they crossed. She let the horses drink only briefly, wanting to be past the thick stands of trees that lined the bank. She had no time to admire the majestic beauty of the virgin forest.

  “In two, maybe three more hours we should see the fort, Robby,” she said, pushing back her hat and scanning the sky. Gray rolling clouds piled up in the south. “Move out now,” she called out, spurring her horse into a canter that had the mares she led crowding her from behind.

  Riding north a ways, Jenny kept a cautious gaze on the clouds, which were barely visible through the thickly needled branches of the pines.

  Two men rode behind her and the boy. They, too, had seen the buildup of storm clouds. It was only the threat of rain that made them come so close to revealing themselves had she once looked back.

  But Jenny didn’t, so she was unaware their destination was the fort, as well.

  Chapter Eleven

  The first splatters of rain hit before she or Robby could unroll their oiled canvas ponchos from behind the saddles.

  The rain did not cease its relentless drive. When the scattered buildings came into view Jenny shot a quick look around at Robby. He was grinning at her! Lord, what a boy would find to love! Since the old fort had been flooded then burned by the Cheyenne, the newly built and named Fort Lyon had no stockade wall. Jenny still called it Bent’s Fort after the fur trapper who built the original fort. Log buildings set fairly close to one another formed a square around the parade ground. She led the way around the officers’ quarters, a row of log and stone houses that faced the enlisted men’s barracks across the way. Worried that Robby would get sick, she headed directly for the sutler’s store run by Gran Salinas. It was the only trading post in the fort and was located directly behind the quartermaster’s storehouse.

  Dismounting, she hurried to help Robby. “Run inside to Gran,” she ordered, grabbing, his reins.

  “But the horses…”

  “Go on. I’ll tend them.”

  With a swipe at the rain running down his face, Robby nodded as he grabbed his saddlebags and the basket holding his cat from Jenny. With the lead ropes in hand, Jenny saw a soldier running from the headquarters building opposite her.

  “Mrs. Latham,” he called over the rising wind. “Major Allison saw you ride in. He sent me down to take care of your horses. Go on,” he urged, already grabbing the reins from her.

  Gratefully, Jenny didn’t argue, but instead handed the reins over. The soldier was young but seemed competent, using a firm grip and soothing voice to lead the horses away. Tossing her own saddlebags over her shoulder, she ran up the planked steps to the cover offered by the porch’s overhang. The usually hard-packed parade ground was fast turning into a sea of mud. Hearing Gran call out to her, Jenny moved faster toward the door.

  Shaking herself like a wet hound, she pulled off her sodden hat, took the length of toweling handed her, and quickly dried her face. Jenny pushed back her hair. The warmth of the potbellied stove helped to erase the chill from her as she glanced around and saw the store was empty but for the two of them. The scent of apples, brined beef, coffee, and spices blended to welcome her. Gran Salinas, snow-white hair neatly braided into a crown, filled a cup with the ever-ready hot coffee and handed it to Jenny.

  “Drink up. Robby’s bedded down. He didn’t want to go, but I told him his kitten needed to get warm.” Eyes like two bright, plump raisins leveled a direct look at Jenny. “You look as bad as that kitten.” Tanned, leathery wrinkles showed her age to be past sixty, but she nevertheless glowed with the warmth of her smile. “Young woman, I’d say bed for you too.”

  “Later, Gran.” Jenny sipped at the coffee, letting its heat seep inside. Gran brushed by her, no more than shoulder high but spry, her slender frame moving like that of a woman half her age.

  “Let’s go in back and get you out of them wet clothes. Ain’t no one gonna come in with the rain and all the excitement goin’ on.”

  “What happened, Gran? Someone get drunk and have a fight over in Bent’s Flat?” Jenny said, mentioning the small settlement across the river that housed a motley assortment of saloons and men no one questioned.

  “Wish it was that,” Gran returned, wrapping a
soft, new wool blanket around Jenny’s shoulders. “Come on inside and I’ll tell you. Can’t hardly credit it myself.” Shaking her head, speaking with a slightly irritated voice, she continued, “Major Allison always had my respect before this. But not with daring to forget he’s army.” Turning from banking the stove, she glared at Jenny. “I ain’t the only one that’s against him for taking things into his own hands. Bad enough he tore into the poor man, who any blamed fool could see didn’t know what the devil was going on, but when the major slugged him, then locked him up like he’d kill him if he stayed within his sight a moment more, well”—she sighed—” it was too much for me.”

  “Who did he lock up?” Jenny followed Gran down the aisle, which was filled with neatly stacked blankets and bolts of cloth. “I didn’t think anything the major did could ever meet with your disapproval.”

  “It’s more’n disapprovin’; I said I lost my respect for that man.” Gran opened the door that led to her living quarters. “Kettle’s on with soup. Get shucked and then I’ll tell you ‘bout this hard case that came riding in only to find himself arrested for murder.”

  With that curt statement she showed Jenny to her room, where Jenny quickly stripped and dried herself before changing into her old robe that was hanging in the wooden wardrobe.

  She thought about Gran Salinas, whose first name had long since been forgotten. She had lived on army posts all her life. Her father was a professional soldier who made the rank of colonel before he died. Her husband, Jacob, was army, too, and it was natural for them to decide to open a trading store on an army post when Jacob retired. Although he’d been dead for five years, that hadn’t stopped Gran from keeping the store open. Everyone traded with her, even the Indians. She never cheated anyone, didn’t know how to refuse a hungry man, and her reputation for doggedness and small acts of kindness and mothering had all army personnel looking out for her.