By Way of the Rose

by Cynthia M. Ward

  “You're going to let him use my gun?” D.J. looked worried. He tended to his rifle as if it were his baby. “He'll probably fumble around and break it.”

  “John's got to learn and this is the only other gun here for him to use. We'll bring it back to you in one piece.” Daniel nodded his head at D.J.

  John stiffened up. “But, Poppa, I don't want to shoot anything!” His already large eyes widened as he looked at Daniel in horror. “Why can't I just go with you and watch. I don't need to be using D.J.'s gun if he don't want me to. That's his most favorite thing in the world!”

  “Son, you're nine years old now, it's time you learned how to make a living in this world. You have to grow up and become a man. You need to know more than just reading books and pretending to be someone you're not.” Daniel handed John the rifle. “Now, get your coat and let's be on our way. You might even like it.”

  Marion walked over to John and placed her hand gently on his head. “I know it doesn't seem like it now, but what your poppa is doing is for your own good. It's time you learned how to forge a living, no matter how bad you may hate to.”

  “Yes, Momma.” John put his coat on, took the rifle and left with Daniel.

  As the two of them walked along Daniel looked at the nine year old, tall for his age, yet struggling to carry the large rifle. “Just pretend you're Daniel Boone again. But this time for real.” John didn't say anything. “You know, Daniel Boone was a good hunter, just like your old poppa here.” He smiled down at John, who continued to sulk as they walked along. “Stop that infernal pouting,” Daniel scolded. “It's time for you to shoulder some responsibility. You can't spend the rest of your life in a dream world. Reading books won't get dinner on the table.” Daniel noticed the boy holding the gun tightly with both hands as he continued the lecture. “We could be using this opportunity to talk and have a good time, but you're wasting it by being foolish and pouting.”

  “I guess it is foolish, Poppa.” John swiped at a lock of hair that the wind had whipped into his eye. Daniel noticed him quickly returned his grasp to the long, heavy rifle as it had begun to drop from his hand. “I will never be able to go to school anyway. This is something I need to learn.”

  Daniel knew John was putting on an unnatural pretense now. A feeling of guilt crept into his heart. “I know you must wish you could let that thing drop to the ground and run far away from this.”

  “Does this gun have bullets in it?” John ignored Daniel's sudden wave of compassion.

  “Yes, it's loaded, so don't aim it at anything unless you intend on killing it.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  As they came upon the old wagon road, they saw a multitude of Indians, wagons and mounted soldiers pouring through the valley. There were so many of them, so many wagons, as far as the eye could see they came trudging from the east. Some of the Indians walked barefoot over the cold ground, some had leather shoes and boots, but they all walked in a mournful and defeated slump. Very few had blankets drawn tightly around them. Many more had nothing but a thin layer of clothing between them and the elements. They were being herded like cattle by the warmly dressed uniformed soldiers who sat, like royalty, upon their saddles.

  The dull hum of the wagons and the clomping of horse hooves along with the moaning Indians and their crying young made a sickening sound.

  “Move back!” Daniel pushed John behind him and into the trees.

  “What's going on? Who are all these people?” John tried to see around Daniel.

  “I suppose it's more of those Indians that have to be moved to the west.”

  “Why do they have to be moved?”

  “There's been too many Indian uprisings. This was a part of the treaty for peace. But I don't think the Indian Chiefs knew what they bargained for.”

  From the forest they watched as the downtrodden and exhausted people continued their oppressive march. The sick, old and babies were riding in wagons. An Indian boy about John's age walked with a limp. The wind whipped at his black hair, his face was dirty and streaked with tears as he stumbled to the ground. A large man with a copper colored beard yelled at the boy. “Get up and walk or I'll tie you to my horse!” The child just sat there, sobbing and rubbing his leg. He shivered in the cold. His bottom lip trembled as he sorrowfully wept. “I see you don't believe me, huh?” The man jumped from his horse. He proceeded to tie this child by the wrist.

  “Jacob! You untie that child right now! I swear, you ain't got a lick of sense!” Another one of the soldiers yelled out as he rode upon the scene. The gold buttons glistened on the dark blue coat that was fastened tightly around him. He was of slender build with flashing dark eyes that seemed to command recognition even though he was of no higher rank than this heartless man.

  “You think you're so high and mighty don't cha', Petterson? What are you gonna do about it if I don't?”

  “I'll report your actions to the general, he's about ready to be done with you anyway!”

  “Why don't you do that.” Jacob spat on the ground and mounted his horse. “You want it loose, you untie it.”

  The man named Petterson jumped from his horse and cut the strap from the crying child.

  “You ride for a while,” he said as he reached up to set the child in a passing wagon.

  As the line proceeded, they noticed a young mother who was walking while nursing her baby. Her tattered skirt whipped at her ankles and her bare feet were caked with blood and dirt mingled together. A rough-looking vigilante on horseback reached down and grabbed the infant from its mother's arms. He let out a wild squeal as he tossed it over to a young soldier who laughed as he caught the screaming babe in the air and tossed it back. The young Indian mother's face was full of terror as she frantically ran between the two men, reaching, crying and jumping, trying to catch her baby as the men joked and watched. A tall and sturdy man spurred his horse toward the fray. He rode up quickly behind them and jumped from his horse. His uniform was that of a general and his presence immediately stopped the gruesome display.

  “What do you two think you're doing? Give that child back to its mother this instant!”

  “Just having a little game, General Fields, sir!” The young soldier grinned. “Ya know, Injun toss.” He snickered through his gapped teeth.

  “You call that a game? You are a sorry excuse for a man, much less a soldier! You're relieved from your posts, the both of you! Hand the child back to its mother and leave here, now!”

  “Dirty savage,” The renegade snarled as he thrust the baby at its mother. He looked at the general, “There, now are you happy?” he glared. His face looked like a rotted potato with a large sausage crammed in it for a nose. “You ain't nothing but a damn Indian lover! I knew we needed somebody else in charge. I'll be glad to go. Won't have to put up with your Indian-lovin’ ways no more! Maybe you need to be visited in the middle of the night by a lovely bunch of your precious Indians on the war path.” The General took out his pistol, pointed it at the man and said, “You've got to the count of three to ride out of here and don't ever let me see you again!”

  “Good riddance.” Jacob pulled the reins, spurred his horse and galloped away.

  The general pointed his finger at the younger soldier. “That fella wasn't anything but blasted vigilante trash! But you, son, you're supposed to represent the U.S. Army when you wear that uniform!” His eyes shot fire. “That uniform means something, boy! And since you can't respect it any better than that, take it off this minute and you get out of here, too!”

  “B— but, General Fields, sir! I— I... ”

  “I said get down from that horse, take the uniform off, and leave!”

  The soldier hobbled away, humiliated, in his red woolen underwear and socks.

  The tall, stout general picked up the boy's uniform, jacket and boots and walked over to check on the infant as its mother held it close. “Your baby seems to be fine.” He smiled warmly at her.

  Weeping, she nodded her head as she stammered, “Thank y
ou, for your mercy for saving my child.” Her dark eyes glistened with tears of mixed sorrow and of joy. The general wrapped her in the soldier's coat.

  “That'll help a bit.” He tipped his hat to her as she walked on, soothing her little one.

  Just as the general mounted his horse another fuss broke out farther up the line and he quickly rode off toward the commotion.

  Daniel and John watched as an old Indian woman with long white hair collapsed. She shivered under her blanket as she bowed her head to the ground. “All hope is gone,” she wailed. “It's all gone.” An unkempt, flabby soldier with his jaw full of tobacco came and stood over her and spat next to her.

  “Get up and get in the wagon, you lazy savage.” He grabbed her by the arm. “Get out of my sight!” She slowly stood, then walked, hobbling and shaking, towards the wagon. The man suddenly cut into her back with his horse whip and chuckled coarsely at the way she flailed backwards and cried out before hitting the ground.

  Daniel grabbed John's arm. “Let's get out of here. This is something we shouldn't have to see.”

  “No! We have to do something.” John jerked his arm free. “Those kinds of men are what we need to shoot, not innocent animals!”

  “There's nothing we can do. There's no sense in watching it because we'll be arrested if we interfere or shoot at them. Come away with me. We can pray for them. Our hands are tied.”

  “Why, Poppa? Why are they doing this? I don't understand. That was just a baby they were hurting... and that old woman didn't do anything wrong to be whipped for! I don't understand! Why can't we help them?”

  “There's two of us and many of them. Who do you think will win, John?”

  “Sampson slew a whole army with the jawbone of an ass and we have guns!”

  “Yeah, but we don't have a jaw bone of an ass, so let's go.” Daniel tried to make light of the situation. John hung his head. “Son, I need more faith than I have right now and I don't want you killed.” They solemnly walked away. John looked back. Tears filled his eyes and he quickly swiped them away. Daniel reached out and put his arm around John's shoulders. “You know, you're a bigger man than those so called men we just saw. My heart swells when I think of how you alone wanted to plow into them with all their mighty force. I'm proud of you.”

  “Yeah, Poppa, there were a lot of them. But I know those mean ones have no souls. And there were a few there on our side.”

  “Those with no souls will shoot you dead.”

  “Not if God don't want them to.”

  “Well, God gave you to me to protect. He knew I would stop you. So we are still in God's will.”

  “I understand Poppa, but... ” Just then they heard a faint moaning sound coming from just beyond the bushes.

  “Shush.” Daniel held his arm out for John to stand still. Then there was a rustling. He cautiously edged toward the sound. Suddenly an Indian woman jumped up holding her swollen belly and struggled to run away. She collapsed to the ground. Daniel shoved his rifle into John's hands. “Hold this,” he commanded as he went to her. She clawed at the ground trying to get away. Daniel bent down beside her and put his hand gently on her battered face. Her eyes held the look of terror. “It's all right, I won't hurt you.” He spoke softly. “You are going to be fine.” Daniel lifted her up in his arms and carried her quickly towards the cabin. John followed as fast as he could while wrestling with the two heavy guns.

  Everyone jumped to attention as Daniel burst through the door with this Indian woman in his arms.

  “What's happened?” Marion leapt toward them.

  “She's one of the Indians they're relocating. My bet is that she broke away somehow. Maybe she was left for dead. After what we just saw there's really no telling what happened to her.”

  “Bring her to the bed.” Marion opened the door to their bedroom. As Daniel passed with the woman Marion gasped. “My good Lord, She's been beaten to a pulp! And she's pregnant too! How could anyone do something this vile?”

  Daniel laid her down. They cleaned her wounds and talked softly to her until her terrified eyes closed in an exhausted sleep. That night she gave birth to a baby girl. Marion lay the baby in the waiting arms of her mother who tried to raise up but was too weak. “Sehoya” she moaned as she tried to pull a carved row of beads from around her neck. She looked at Marion and gestured toward the baby. “Sehoya". Marion helped her get the beads from around her neck. The mother weakly smiled and placed them over the infant's head and held the baby close to her breast. The child had hardly warmed her mother's arms before the woman went limp and her eyes glazed over. Marion stared in shock and disbelief.

  “Oh, my good Lord above, Daniel, she's dead! I— I think she's dead!” They watched the baby squirming and searching for her mother's milk. The tiny infant began whimpering. Daniel bent over, closed the woman's eyes and picked up the baby. He held her toward Marion.

  “She's hungry. You still have our little one's milk. You can nurse her.”

  “I couldn't possibly.” Marion clasped her chest. “This is the milk meant for our baby. I can't feed our child's milk to an Indian.”

  “This baby doesn't know anything about being an Indian, it's hungry. Our baby is gone.”

  “I've never suckled any child but my own.” Marion continued to protect her breast. “It's just not right.”

  John looked at his mother. “Momma, if I had died when I was born I would be glad if you fed my milk to a hungry baby, no matter what kind of baby it was.” Marion looked from John to Daniel to the dead woman as she relaxed her grasp and took the infant in her arms. She sat down and held the baby to her breast. She stared down at the infant. Its dark eyes looked around as if they were examining their new world. Perhaps they were. This tiny being seemed so knowing and bright. She seemed as if she would never be content to let others tell her what this world was all about. She'd have to see it for herself. Marion looked natural nursing this baby and the terrible loneliness for her own baby appeared to ease as she softly sang to the infant girl.

  “She hung on just long enough to bring her baby into the world.” Daniel breathed despairingly. “And what a world she brought it into.”

  “What are we going to do with her?” Marion asked. “You saw what they did to the mother.”

  “You're right. This baby has no chance in this world as an Indian. We will have to raise her as our own. Everyone will think it's the one we lost. Everyone knew we were expecting a baby around this time.”

  “The children will know the truth. Suppose they let something slip about her. What do you think will happen to us?” Marion looked worried.

  John pleaded for the baby again. “But, Momma, there's a reason she came to us, and we shouldn't turn our backs on her. None of us will talk.” He stroked the baby's hand as she wrapped her tiny fist around his finger. “It's like she's holding on to me for protection. What if those mean people get her and toss her around like they did that other baby? We need to keep her here with us to keep her safe,” he urged through his tears.

  They named her Sarah Elizabeth. Marion put the beads away. She would give them to Sarah when she was older... when she told her about her real mother.

  They buried the Indian woman beside little Matthew. “She will be with my baby and I will be with hers,” Marion sighed.

  Chapter Three

  * * * *

  Five years had passed since Sarah arrived. John's place at the table was most always empty these days. “Why have you stopped reading, John? You love it so. Has something happened?” Marion questioned him.

  “No, Momma. Nothing's happened. It's just that I've read those books so many times that I'm just not interested in them anymore. I want to know something new. I want to read something different and exciting. I want to learn other things besides just what those books hold. I can quote them word for word now, so why even bother reading them?”

  “I do understand. I wish we could afford to buy you some new ones, but things are tight... as always. You know that.” />
  “Yes, I know, Momma. But I get so tired of never having anything. It's like Poppa says, if you're not rich or own a big plantation, there's nothing for you in these parts. I hate it down here! I want to leave, go north and get a job so we can all have fine things. Things like books, clothes and good food. We eat nothing but rabbit, fish and deer. I'm tired of it! I'm tired of seeing you struggle and still have nothing!”

  “You're only fourteen years old. How can you think of leaving home at such a young age? What kind of job do you think a mere child could get?”

  “You and Poppa were married at fifteen. I can at least get a job and send money home. I know I can.”

  “Wait until you're fifteen and we'll talk more about it then.”

  “But, Momma... ”

  “I said wait, John. I need you here. We only have you to help out with the hard work now that D.J. has married and left home. Nathan isn't strong enough. You're the only boy we have that's big enough to really help out. I'm asking you, for me, to wait until Nathan is bigger.”

  “All right, I'll wait. I know the work is hard on Poppa and you. I'll stay until Nathan is bigger and can take my place. But then, I'm going to New York and I'm going to get a good paying job and I'll buy you a big house and some people to help you out.”

  “The house sounds fine, John. But you know I don't believe in slavery and I could never own anyone. You'd buy them, I'd set them free.”

  “Well, I wasn't talking about getting you slaves, but hired servants. But, you know momma, that would be something to think on. You've got a great idea!”

  “What?”

  “I could get rich, buy slaves and then set them free.” He smiled brightly.

  “That sounds like a wonderful plan to me. Keep dreaming big, my boy. You're going to make a difference in this old world, I just know it.”

  Sometimes, when the weather was fair, John took Sarah and snuck up to the school house. They'd sit under one of its open windows and listen to the lessons being taught. Other times they went to the general store and browsed through the book stock. John would hand Sarah a colorful picture book to look over as he read.