“How about a nice Five-Step-Waltz?”
“Sorry, that’s beyond me,” Roger said regretfully.
“No worries,” Dwight said. “I haven’t picked up a fiddle in six months, but I’ll give it a try.” Roger gracefully handed him the fiddle and Dwight began to play.
Jennifer turned to Jake and said “I’ll show you the steps.”
“I’m well acquainted with the Waltz, thank you,” Jake replied haughtily. “Required of the well-bred Army officer, you know.
“Besides, Mom taught it to me when I was little,” he added sheepishly. He took her left hand in his right and wrapped his left arm lightly around her waist, then they stepped off.
As the dance progressed, Jennifer leaned into Jake, pressing her body close to his. Jennifer could feel everyone’s eyes on them; they were the only couple dancing. She didn’t care. Jake was going to be hers.
31 - PETA
Pipeholder: Blackfoot Indian tribal war chieftain, a subordinate chief (or sagamore) to the paramount chief (or sachem). Glossary, An Illustrated History of the Republic, Helen O’Shea, Ed.
Along the Missouri River, Nebraska Territory, USA, Friday, March 28, 1856
Tears streaming down her face, Golden Eagle, daughter of Gray Wolf and Emma McCarthy, paddled the small fishing canoe as fast and hard as she could. She paused for a quick drink of water and glanced behind her. As she’d expected, the two big war canoes were still there, perhaps a few yards closer. She returned to her paddling, but hope was fading that she could stay ahead of them until dark, when she might slip ashore and disappear into the wilderness on the north side of the river.
She was very pretty, a mix of European and native features. She had the jet black hair, buxom build, and high cheekbones of her father’s people, coupled with the freckled white skin and bright green eyes of the Irish.
She was sure the hunting party, composed of renegades from multiple tribes and assorted goldminers turned outlaws, had excellent trackers, but if she could get deep enough into Blackfoot territory they might give up the pursuit. If that happened, and it was a big if, then she could resume her journey on foot, fulfilling her mother’s last command to get to the Fort Union trading post, located at the junction of the Missouri and Yellowstone rivers.
Earlier that morning, the hunting party had surprised her family on the southern bank of the Missouri River. Father Gray Wolf, Inn Mingan in her father’s Siksika Blackfoot language, had fought bravely but futilely, falling to a musket ball. Mother Emma had created a distraction, running away from the shore in full view of the renegades. It had given Peta, as she was known in Siksika, the chance to slip the fishing canoe into the water and drift silently downstream a ways before taking up the paddle. She had heard her mother’s screams when the renegades and outlaws caught up to her. It was a sound she would never forget.
The hunting party must have discovered that one person and a canoe were missing from the campsite, and set out after her. They had been slowly gaining all afternoon, but were still well out of musket range.
The river made a sweeping turn to the right. Peta knew a very tight turn to the left was coming up. She mulled the idea of putting ashore once she was around the bend, but dismissed it because the land was so open here along the river. In another fifteen miles that would change dramatically, but she wasn’t sure she could wait that long.
She paddled hard into the curve, hugging the south shore, and came out into the short straight that led into the hard left hand bend. There she saw an odd-looking raft downriver, coming towards her. She didn’t see anyone paddling or any sails, but the raft was moving much more swiftly than she was, even though she was paddling downstream. She began to angle away from it, but then saw the American flag billowing from the stern, next to another she didn’t recognize. Peta immediately turned the canoe and headed straight for the strange craft, shouting in the English her mother had taught her.
“Help me! Please help me!”
The raft had started to angle away from her, but it turned back when she started yelling. A man on board threw her a rope, which she caught and used to reel herself in.
“Please help me,” she repeated as she climbed aboard. “There’s a renegade hunting party just around the next bend in the river. They killed my parents and now they’re hunting me.”
The captain wasted no time waiting on an explanation. He ordered another man to hide her under one of the loose tarps on the deck. He also told one of the men to bring the canoe around the front of the left pontoon and secure it between the pontoons well under the deck, where it would be out of sight. Once that was done, the pontoon boat surged upriver, keeping to the north shore. Peeking out from under the tarp, Peta saw that anyone coming around the upriver curve would assume their quarry had already gone round the next bend.
Shortly thereafter the two big war canoes came around the bend, hugging the south shore. The captain told two of the sailors to stand by the fore and aft machine guns, whatever they were.
A few moments later, the two war canoes shot by, headed downriver. The danger was past. Just to be safe, Peta stayed under cover until they had fully rounded the next bend.
The captain asked a sailor named Harlan to take the helm and two sailors named Joshua and Abraham to keep a lookout behind them, then came to where Peta was hiding and lifted the tarp.
“You can come out now; they’re well behind us.”
“Thank you,” she answered. “I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you, and where are you going?”
“First why don’t you tell us who you are, please?” the captain replied. “My name is Roger Volant.”
Peta thought her response over for a second, decided to tell the truth. “My name is Peta, which is Blackfoot for Golden Eagle. My mother was an Irish schoolteacher kidnapped by the Blackfoot near Fort Union fourteen years ago. She taught me English. My father was Gray Wolf, a Blackfoot pipeholder. He married my mother against the wishes of the Chief of the Blackfoot Nation. I was born thirteen years ago. We’ve been living on our own along the river since then.” Tears formed at the corners of her eyes.
“They were killed by the renegades this morning. I got away.”
“Are you sure they’re dead?” Roger asked gently.
“I saw my father fall with a bullet in his back. I didn’t see my mother die, but I heard her screams when they caught her. She wouldn’t have been taken alive if she could help it.”
“I see,” said Roger. “I’m very sorry. You have our deepest condolences.” After a pause, he continued, “We’re from the Happy Valley Ranch, which is located about two hundred miles upriver from here, on land leased from the Crow Nation.” Peta’s eyes grew wide at that last bit of information.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Carver would never turn over a white or half-white girl to the Crow. Come to think of it, I don’t believe he would turn over anyone that he thought might come to harm, unless it was well deserved. Anyway, we were on our way back from dropping off some goods at a trading post downriver when we spotted you.”
“Could you bring me to Fort Union on your next trip?” Peta asked.
“That’ll be up to the boss. You best come along with us and let Mr. Carver decide what we should do with you.” He introduced his crew, Harlan, Joshua, and Abraham. The latter two men were black. Harlan was white, although he looked a little green at the moment, as though he might be sick.
Roger had Harlan bring the boat to a full stop, and together they hauled the fishing canoe onboard and covered it with a tarp, but only after Peta had retrieved her meager belongings from it. She had a leather shoulder bag with some hand-carved wooden figures her father had made her over the years, a very worn sock monkey named Stocaí, Siksika for Socks, that her mother had made when Peta was a small child, a folding metal knife that was originally her mother’s, and several sets of soft leather undergarments, since she had just begun menstruating. She also retrieved a hunting bow and a quiver of arrows from the canoe.
Harlan gav
e her one of his spare shirts and a pair of trousers to put on so she would be harder to spot, should they run into any more renegades. They fit her rather well. She was a big girl for her age.
Peta pointed out the spot where her parents had been killed. After looking over the area very carefully with something that looked like two spyglasses hooked together, Roger, Joshua, and Peta went ashore to find and bury her parents, while Harlan and Abraham stood guard on the boat. All of the family’s horses and most of their belongings were gone.
Her father’s body was easy to locate near the campsite. After another half-hour of searching Roger called out to Peta. He had found her mother, wrapped her in a blanket, and arranged it so that only her bruised but relatively untouched face showed. They carried her body back to the campsite, then built a pyre where Peta set both bodies afire. She wanted to wait until the fire consumed them, but Roger was concerned that the renegade hunting party would be working their way back upriver, so they departed with the pyre still aflame.
32 - JAKE
Happy Valley Ranch, Nebraska Territory, USA, Sunday, March 30, 1856
Jake Carlton rose early and ambled over to the Happy Valley Ranch mess hall in search of breakfast, and more importantly, coffee. On his way there, he noted that the big pontoon boat Roger Volant and his crew had taken to Omaha had returned sometime during the night. He dearly wanted to be on that supply run, but a premature explosion at one of the excavation sites had injured three men, and it was his job to figure out what went wrong.
Dwight had urged him to go see his family anyway, but he’d declined and sent a letter instead, promising to be on the next raft. He couldn’t wait to see Paul and his new wife, and their baby. He’d questioned Dwight closely about his mother, hoping to determine whether or not she was still on the laudanum. But Dwight seemed too taken with his mother’s beauty to notice anything untoward.
Arriving at the mess hall, he found the place abuzz with talk of a new arrival. The chief cook, Arlene Cooper, a slim black woman of indeterminate age, handed him a cup of steaming coffee.
“Mr. Dwight left word he wants to see you as soon as you finish your breakfast.”
Jake decided to skip breakfast and headed on over to Dwight’s office. Spring was in the air. The mountains loomed in the west, but the flat prairie, alive with wildflowers, extended as far as the eye could see to the south and east, as well as across the big river to the north. As he strolled along, he took stock of all the progress they’d made over the past eighteen months. The Rim Road and fence line were nearly complete. They had built two large barracks for the single men, and one smaller one for the single women, as well as the mess hall, main office building, and a huge utility building that housed the standby electric generator, propane tank, water pumps and filters, sewerage treatment system, and a garage for the various ranch vehicles. There was also a barn for the horses. The south facing roofs of the barn and utility building were covered with solar panels. Each time they opened a cargo container, Jake was amazed at the wondrous equipment inside.
There were four cabins for the married couples, and individual cabins for Dwight, Jennifer, and himself. Jake hoped he would soon share a cabin with Jennifer, but he hadn’t yet gotten up the nerve to ask her to marry him.
As soon as the Rim Road and fence line were finished, they would embark on the next phase of construction. Dwight had not yet shared those plans with Jake, but Jake assumed that they would include building the corrals and sheds for the ranch’s livestock business. Dwight had also not shared how he expected to get the cattle up here to be raised in the first place. Jake wondered whether that was why Dwight wanted to see him now.
As Jake stepped onto the porch in front of Dwight’s office, the door opened and Jennifer stepped out. She was followed by a young girl, whom Jennifer introduced as Peta.
“Roger picked her up on the river. She’ll be staying with me until Father decides what to do with her.”
Peta said nothing, beyond a “nice to meet you” in perfect English, but Jake noticed how her green eyes took in every detail. For a moment their gazes locked. Jake felt a chill, like the time he’d run into a young timber wolf in the forest back east. He dismissed it quickly – the kid had freckles, after all.
Jennifer and Peta headed off to Jennifer’s cabin, and Jake went into the office. Dwight was there, standing with his back to the door, facing the big wall-mounted topographical map of the ranch. Jake walked up and greeted him.
“Good morning. Arlene said you wanted to see me?”
“Morning Jake. Did you meet our new arrival on the way in?” Dwight asked.
“Sure did. Interesting young lady. How did Roger come across her?”
“She was paddling a canoe down the Missouri with a renegade hunting party in hot pursuit. Harlan thinks it’s that group Fox Jumping told us about a few weeks back. Bunch of renegade Indians and white outlaws preying on the weak. Anyway, since she pleaded for help in English, Rogah took her aboard and hid her and the canoe while the hunting party passed. Turns out her mothah was part of that wagon train that got massacred by the Blackfoot back in 1839. You probably heard about it; it was in all the papers.”
“I did, but I didn’t think there were any survivors,” Jake replied.
“Neithah did anyone else. Anyway, her mothah was taken by a Blackfoot war chieftain in defiance of the elders, so he went on the lam with the woman. Raised the girl on the big river and its tributaries. Taught her how to hunt and fish, while her mothah taught her to read, write and figure. I suspect by the way she carries herself, her fathah also taught her how to fight. Could be a problem, since she isn’t well socialized. We’ll keep her here for a bit. I think Jenny can handle her. I’ll probably ship her down to Mrs. Riley at some point.”
Jake reflected that Jennifer, who permitted no one other than her father to call her Jenny, was probably up to the task. Susan Riley’s late husband could testify to that.
33 - JENNIFER & JAKE
Happy Valley Ranch, Nebraska Territory, USA, Sunday, March 30, 1856
With the Indian girl safely in the capable hands of Maggie and Caroline, Jennifer headed to the mess hall for an early lunch, then went back to her cabin to change. Once she was properly dressed for the occasion, including a long cloak, she headed over to her father’s office. Jake was coming from the direction of the mess hall, three cups of steaming coffee in his hands.
“Bless you,” she said, taking one of the cups from his hand, then kissed him on the cheek. He blushed. He’s such a gentleman. I’m going to have to take the bull by the horns, so to speak, if this relationship is going to go where I want. Jake was about to discover who she really was. If he didn’t run away screaming, that’s exactly what she’d do.
She held the door open for him with her free hand, then followed him into the office. Jake froze when he saw her father in his ISRM full dress uniform. By the time he turned to face Jennifer, she had shed her long cloak and stood there in her ISRM full dress uniform. His mouth formed into an “o” but nothing came out.
“Jake, I’m afraid we haven’t been completely honest with you,” her father began. “I’m Lieutenant Colonel Dwight Carver, of the Indian Stream Republican Militia General Staff. This is Captain Jennifer Carver, Indian Stream Republican Militia aero-medical evacuation platoon commandah.”
Jake stared with his mouth hanging open.
“We’re not building a cattle ranch, we’re building a field training site and firing range for the ISRM,” Jennifer said.
“Why?” Jake finally found his voice.
“There’s a very big fight coming over slavery and other economic issues. The Republic doesn’t have enough room to do maneuver training of regimental size units,” Dwight answered.
“I meant, why the deception?” Jake retorted. “Does the U.S. Government know what you’re doing?” There was something else going on behind Jake’s eyes that Jennifer couldn’t interpret.
“No, they don’t. We aim to keep it that way. I
know that’s asking a lot of you, but you’re as anti-slavery as anyone in the Republic. When the war comes, the Federals will be more than happy to have us as allies. Once they outlaw slavery, that is.”
“What about the others?” Jake asked. “They’ll figure it out sooner or later.”
“Yes they will, but no one else here has any particular loyalty to the U.S. Government besides you. Certainly not the former slaves. The others can be persuaded… or bought.”
“We know you can’t be bought,” Jennifer added. “But we hope you can be convinced to join us. The ISRM, that is. We need leaders with operational-level combat experience. We haven’t been involved in anything larger than a platoon action since the war with the British back in 1834.”
“I need to think about it,” Jake said after a moment.
“Of course,” Dwight said. “If you agree to join the ISRM, you’ll need to go to the Republic and attend the Vocational School on the military track, then attend Basic Training, followed by Officer Candidate School. Once you graduate OCS, you’ll be commissioned. It would take about eighteen months, total.”
Seeing the sudden concern in Jake’s eyes, Jennifer jumped in.
“Don’t worry, it goes much faster than you’d think. I’ll be there a good deal of the time, attending to my neglected platoon. And married men get conjugal visits.”
“But it’s at least a three month journey from here to the Republic – wait, what did you say?” Jake replied, astonished.
“We’ll have to get married first, of course,” Jennifer smiled, meeting his gaze. Jake’s mouth once again formed a silent “o”.
“Jenny, don’t you think you’ve skipped over something? Like Jake proposing first, for example?” Dwight asked in a reproving voice.
“If I wait for him to propose, my ovaries will dry up.” She looked back to Jake. “Well, are you going to say something?”
Jake took her firmly by the arm, led her out of the office, and took her straight to his cabin.
The Legend of Indian Stream Page 17