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Unbridled
By Tammy Hinton

Chapter 1

Sarah gripped the cradle’s wooden handle. With her other arm she reached through a high-back slat chair and picked up the heavy cast iron baker of biscuits. She stepped out into the crisp morning struggling with as much as she could carry in one trip. Free of the doorway, she sat the biscuits down and released the chair. She watched as it teetered back and forth. Finally, it settled against the earthen dugout cut from the red dirt of Indian Territory. Sometimes she felt like she was just another burrowing prairie dog raising her family in a dark hole in the ground. This was one of those mornings. She wanted a better life for her children. Someday she’d look back at these times and laugh. Then the word “maybe” crept back into her mind.
The young mother set the cradle on a flat area and with a flick of her hand started it swaying. She patted the whimpering baby’s chest. “Hush now sugar, Mama will be right back.” Wisps of her hair rose to dance on the breeze as she carried the baker to the campfire. She hung it next to the coffee pot over the flames. The graniteware coffee pot reflected the quivering light of the fire. Her body moved through her morning routine without the need for conscious thought, leaving her time to plan her day.
With the bacon fried and the rest of breakfast started, Sarah picked up the patient infant and headed to the chair. She unbuttoned the top of her cotton shift and put the baby to her breast.
The old rooster crowed as on the horizon the sun lifted the night’s veil of darkness. Hues of pink and yellow broke through the blackness resembling the rushed strokes of an artist’s paint brush. Across the flat land, prairie grass swayed to the music hummed by the wind.
“I’ll sure miss the time we share together watching the sun come up when you start sleeping all night, precious.”
Sarah’s fingertips lightly brushed the top of the baby’s head as it suckled. She twisted the soft molasses-colored hair into ringlets. Baby fine locks framed a face the milky white color of lamb’s wool. Lula was the spitting image of her older sister, Molly. Both daughters inherited their mother’s high cheekbones and deep set eyes. Brown almond-shaped eyes that almost disappeared when they smiled. They were agreeable children and never caused her a moment’s displeasure. She felt truly blessed.
Gus interrupted her thoughts. “She always picks a bad time to want to be fed. That gal needs to sleep through the night. I cain’t get up at the crack of dawn and move May’s cows all day without a proper rest.”
“Lula’s only six weeks old.” She replied in a low voice masking her irritation.
“You heard what I said. She’s going to have to sleep through the night, or move her over near her sister.”
“She’s got a name, Gus. Lula. Lula Jane.” Sarah lifted herself from the chair. She felt his eyes bore into her back as she headed for the fire and then the house. They always fought over the same things before he headed out.
“Give Mama a nice burp.” Sarah juggled the baby while she took out four golden biscuits. She sat them next to Gus’ favorite choke cherry jam and six pieces of crisp bacon on the warm tin plate.
“How many eggs do you want this morning?”
“Four. Make sure the yolks aren’t runny.”
Gus took a sip from the tin cup Sarah handed him, then flipped it over and poured the steaming contents onto the ground. She cringed knowing what was coming.
“Damn, this could take rust off nails.”
He grumbled whenever she added chicory root to the coffee. It stretched the sack of expensive beans further. Sarah finished frying his eggs and brought him his breakfast. On her second trip she refilled his cup. She placed a pitcher of water in front of him to dilute the dark brew.
“Here, you don’t seem to be in the mood for strong coffee this morning.”
He shot her a formidable look. He didn’t speak. She preferred his silence to being berated on how her biscuits were hard or the bacon looked like burnt twigs. Sarah knew he was getting worked up to what really stuck in his craw.
“I’ll be getting laundry ready if you need anything,” she called over her shoulder as he grabbed his last strip of bacon and left out the door.
It was against her nature to bicker. However, it rankled her that a woman was supposed to submit to her husband, right or wrong. Now, it had become a habit to let Gus have his say just to keep peace in their home. Men expected subservience from a dutiful wife. Women held everything inside so as to not ruffle any feathers. Sarah’s Grandpa Bryce preached submission from the pulpit, but if Grandma Bryce saw her now she would ask, “What happened to the spirited young girl we sent off to conquer the west? Did it conquer her instead?”
Lula snuggled against her neck and cooed. The resounding belch and milky drool were anything but feminine. “I’ll love you enough for a mama and a papa.” She wiped her eye to fight it, but a single tear escaped and streaked down her cheek. She placed the sleeping infant in the cradle. Gus wouldn’t hold the baby before he headed out. He seldom had anything to do with either Lula or Molly. He’d made his feelings known at his second daughter’s birth. “Another girl, I’ve got to have me boys to run a place. I can’t do it with a bunch of girls.”
He came in to get his rifle. “I don’t know what you got to cry about. You’ve two fillies to help do women’s work. I don’t see anyone who’s going help me break sod.”
Sarah felt the heat rise in her. She took a breath, counted to ten, and said nothing.
“We’re going after strays. I might not be home before dark.”
That suited her just fine. She had her daughters for company and plenty of women’s work to do.
Thank heavens his moods didn’t last long. There were still stretches when they laughed and made love with the same passion they’d felt when they first married. She teased and pretended to resist as his hands traveled to awaken her body. They moved as one in the dance in the dark.
These intimate moments were the only times he expressed his love.
“Ah! Ah! I love you, Sarah.” His hot breath murmured in her ear as he collapsed on top of her. She needed this reaffirmation to get through the difficult days like today.
Too soon it would be back to, “I’m sorry we ever decided to come to this hell hole. All I do is work so the Mays can get rich. How much do we have saved?”
“Twelve dollars and forty-three cents.”
“Twelve dollars and forty-three cents ain’t gonna buy us much of a herd. I busted my butt for a year for twelve dollars and forty-three cents.”
He’d torn off his gloves and rubbed his calloused palms. “Back in Georgia I was a gentleman. Here, I’m a farmer and a dirt poor one that has to hire out to feed his family.” There it was. The unspoken truth gnawed at him.
Unlike her genteel husband, Sarah’s love for the land was inborn. Her great-grandfather, James Bryce, came from Scotland to settle in the New World. He preached to his children and their children, “Everything comes and goes, but the land. The land is the only thing that has any lasting value.” His Indian wife offered a differing opinion. “Only the white man thinks you can own the ground, the streams, the forests. No one can own Mother Earth. She owns you. Respect her and you will multiply.”
Sarah appreciated what she and Gus had achieved and the patience to see a future for them in the west. Gus lacked her vision. She walked to the fire and watched her husband ride out towards Beef Creek. No, he wasn’t the same man that had won her young heart back in Texas.
She returned to her chair and rocked Lula’s cradle with her foot. The memory of the day Gus arrived at her folks’ place in Texas made her smile. Bent over in the garden picking pinto beans, she was ill prepared to receive company. Smudges of dirt were dabbled on both cheeks. Her hair hung in disorder. Since she was toiling in the garden, she wore her oldest ill-fitting frock.
The handsome, black Tennessee Walker he rode snorted, getting her attention. The man sat a good seat. She guessed him to be five-foot-ten or so. The army-issue Confederate pants marked him as a Southerner. An open collar shirt and blue faded bandana led up to a sweat stained hatband on a tan Stetson. His face was hidden under the brim, which was cocked to the side.
“Miss,” he called out. “Am I headed in the right direction for the Bryce home?”
“Yes, sir. If you keep on this road you’ll see the house.”
He waved and continued on his way.
Sarah held up her layers of skirts as her bare feet sailed over the pail of vegetables on a full run. She wanted to be the first to greet the visitor. The man dismounted and proceeded to knock just as she opened the door. From that first moment there was something about him that left her both exhilarated and anxious. Maybe it was the icy cold blue of his eyes. They looked back at her with an intensity she had never experienced. Several moments passed before she noticed his wide grin and outstretched hand. Without a word, fifteen-year-old Sarah was smitten.
Before either of them could speak Frances Bryce walked out of the cabin and stood between the stranger and her impressionable first-born. She dried her hands on her red checked apron and placed them on her hips.
The man removed his hat. His gesture for a handshake went unacknowledged.
“How do, ma’am. I’m Augustus Cannon formerly of Chatsworth, Georgia. I’m looking for the Bryce place. I understand my brother, Charles, is their hired man.”
“You are correct, sir. He is and this is the Bryce place. You have me at a disadvantage, Mr. Cannon. Charles hasn’t talked about his family. I’m sorry I can’t invite you in. It wouldn’t be proper.” She ignored his outstretched hand.
“I understand, ma’am. Please call me Gus.” Rebuffed, he straightened his back and withdrew his hand. “Charles sent our father a letter praising the opportunities in Texas, so I came west to seek my fortune. I’ll just wait for him over there in the shade if I may?”
“No need, sir. I’ll have Jamie show you where he beds down in the barn, and then take you to where he’s digging fence posts.”
Sarah stepped forward staring ahead at the stranger. “I’ll do it, Mama.”
“No child, I need you here. Jamie, come over here, boy.”
“Thank you for your hospitality, Missus Bryce. Miss Bryce.”
“Sarah. My name’s Sarah.” She got it out before Mama could hush her.
“Miss Sarah.” It rolled off his lips. She wished he’d say it again.
Mama sensed it that first day. From that moment on, she did everything a mother could do to keep them apart. Her advice fell on deaf ears. Sarah was a willful child.
“Don’t be so forward, Sarah. The man’s almost twice your age.”
“I don’t know what you mean. I was just being polite to Charles’ brother.”
“Don’t try to fool me, girl. You look here, Gus Cannon is not some love struck country boy. He’s a grown man and much too experienced for the likes of an innocent young girl like you. Mind your manners and do what I say.”
Mama was right. He was too experienced.
Within the month she and Gus arranged to meet on the sly. At first it was an act of youthful rebellion and curiosity. Urgent stolen kisses replaced the bland pecks of the local school boys. Fear and guilt aided in her resistance to his aggressive attempts to seduce her. At the same time she wondered at the excitement she felt pressed up against him. Even the smell of his skin lingered in her thoughts. Although his caresses tested her will to stay pure, she remained determined they should wait until married to consummate the relationship.
Sarah knew her father would have run Gus off if he had known of the young man’s breach of his trust. When informed of Gus’ wish to marry Sarah, her father insisted they wait a month until her sixteenth birthday. A circuit judge pronounced them man and wife at a small party attended by their neighbors.
The bubbly bride floated from guest to guest. “Abigail, you’ll be next. Mrs. Bradford, thank you for the linens. Mother, I can’t believe I’m a married woman.”
Always the loner, Gus plunked down in a chair and watched the celebration.
Her new brother-in-law hugged her tight and welcomed her to the family. “He must love you, Sarah. I never thought he’d marry after Ann jilted him.”
Ann who? Gus never talked about the past. She assumed it was because of his trying to forget the war. Being naive she never considered he had loved someone before her. Torn, she was both curious about this woman and distraught that she heard it from someone else, and on her wedding day. An insensitive Charles didn’t take notice of her reaction to his story telling and rattled on.
“Ann ran off with a Bible thumper named Autrey when Gus was off fighting in the war. When he got back he heard they were in Indian Territory. He came west to look for her. He found you instead.”
Yes, he found me. He loved me enough to stand before God and take me as his wife. Sarah vowed to push her rival out of her mind and to never talk to Gus about Ann Autrey. Ann may have been his past, but she was his future.
Now, five years later when the initial glow had dimmed, she wondered if she still loved him. What was love anyway? Was it what they write about in poems or is it fulfilling a commitment to stay together through all life’s trials. Sarah wondered if she was up to a lifetime of anger.
“Mama, I’m hungry,” brought her back from her daydreaming. Molly tugged on her skirt.
“Well, Mama’s got bacon and biscuits ‘n’ jam for her sweet girl. Let’s go fill that tummy.” Sarah picked up the barefoot child, tickled her little tummy, and hugged her with all her might.
No, her Grandmother Eleanor would not want her to spend the rest of her life afraid to be the woman inside. Something needed to change.

* * * * *

Gus aimed his horse south towards the May’s ranch and didn’t look back. He knew she would watch him until he disappeared from her view. If he looked back that would be a sign of weakness. Men were supposed to be the dominant force in their own homes. He was the husband, father, breadwinner in the Cannon house. She would do well to remember that.
Strange, it was her free spirit that attracted him to Sarah in the first place. Now he willed her to do what he said without questioning the reason. He wished to tame her spirit or she would leave him like everyone he loved left him.
For him, their first meeting hadn’t been love at first sight. Gus saw before him a young impressionable school girl. Soon the soft spoken brunette charmed him. He knew to stay away. He wanted to stay away, but her intense eagerness to love and be loved drew him in. Sarah inspired emotions in him he thought had died long ago in Georgia. She was everything pure and innocent. She intoxicated him. He determined he had to have her.
Their wedding night was the climax of the chase. Gus watched each step of her bare feet cross the floor to their marriage bed. Her unruffled expression hid any fear. Behind her, the light from the candle on the bed table outlined her slim hips through a sheer gauze nightgown. His ardor rose as she boldly lifted the gown over her head and dropped it to her feet. “Your loveliness leaves me speechless,” he said as his eyes drank her in. Unlike their clandestine meetings in the grove that ended so unfulfilling, this night would consummate their future.
“Come to bed.” Gus reached up and took her face in his hands. He placed his lips on her’s and guided her into his arms. He untied the ribbon that held back her hair. The scent of wild honeysuckles filled his nostrils as her tresses cascaded down. She brushed them back with her wrist and stared into his eyes.
Sarah never acted coy or flinched as he awakened her body with his touch. He stopped briefly to breathe in the scent of her skin. His kisses became deeper and more urgent. When she begged him to take her, he did. In one slow steady stroke Gus claimed her; his woman, his wife until death do them part. After the initial pain, he cradled her and spoke soothing words in her ear before he resumed. “It’s only like that once. Sarah, you didn’t lose your virginity. You brought it to your husband as a gift on our wedding night. We can only experience that one time. It binds our souls together forever.” He kissed her lovely mouth.
As they laid in the dark Gus professed his love in gentle whispers. His bride was so young she didn’t know the difference between love and passion of the flesh, but he did.

Chapter 2

A hot dry blast of wind from northwest Texas kicked up dust devils that covered everything with a fine layer of red dirt. Knee high brown stalks wilted in the plowed fields. No clouds appeared to end the searing drought. All that hard work and money spent for seed and nothing to show for it.
Sarah shielded her eyes and looked up at the sizzling sphere high in the cloudless sky. It was only about ten, but even a morning sun blistered the skin in no time. She hurried to finish her chores and get Molly inside the cool dugout.
Sweat trickled down her forehead. She wiped it away with the sleeve of the shabby print dress she wore. The high-collared neck and long sleeves compounded her discomfort, but left no exposed skin for the sun to bronze. Gus hated how dark she got. “Cover up and wear a hat or people will think I’m a squaw man.” Huh, he didn’t mind people calling him a squaw man when we applied for an allotment.
Heat or no heat, laundry had to get done. She stoked the fire and brought out the washboard and shards of soap. Gus needed clean shirts and underdrawers. Just the thought of his drawers made her chuckle. She’d made them out of flour sacks. Stenciled across his butt was “American – First Quality – White.”
“Well, at least he has some without a mess of holes in ‘em.”
“Did you say something, Mama?”
Sarah didn’t realize she spoke out loud. “No sweetheart, Mama’s just talking to herself.”
Sarah carted several buckets of water from the spring to the large iron cauldron she’d placed on the fire. Her second trip she filled the trough for the mules and threw them some hay. She fed the chickens while she waited for the wash water to heat.
“Mama, Lula’s awake.”
Sarah propped the hoe against the dugout wall and gathered up Gus’s dirty work pants. “Good, I can get her fed before I start the wash. Why don’t you get her out of the cradle and Mama will be right there.”
Molly headed in to get the baby, but raced back out her face contorted by fear. The overwrought youngster jumped up and down screaming and pointing to the door. “Mama! Mama! Snake! There’s a snake! Hurry before he hurts sister! Mama, hurry!”
Sarah dropped the dirty laundry and raced to the dugout. Her heart pounded in her head as she grabbed the hoe and entered the cool dark room. While her eyes adjusted she tried to calm herself. This was no time to be hysterical. Then from out of the corner of her eye she saw it move. It had slithered through the earthen wall and down onto the dirt floor. Nearby the baby, oblivious of the danger, giggled and shook her arms and chubby legs. Sarah knew any sudden movement from her direction might trigger the snake to strike. She needed to be closer to reach him.
Heavenly Father, help me!
Never were her footsteps lighter. Even the air didn’t move to alert the serpent of her presence. Her arms slowly lifted the garden hoe knee high and then she struck. The headless body writhed for a few seconds then lay motionless. Sarah picked up the pieces of the devil and tossed them out the door. She didn’t even take time to see what kind of snake it was. What did it matter? It threatened her child so she killed it.
The startled baby let out a wail. Sarah picked her up to soothe away her tears. Weak kneed she plopped down on her cedar chest. “Thank you, Lord. Thank you, Jesus.”
“Mama is Lula okay?” Molly flew across the room and crawled up next to her.
“Yes, sugar. Mama’s proud of you.” Sarah drew her close. “You did the right thing coming to get me and not touching the snake.”
Lord! Lord! She said a quick prayer. If they had only known life here was so hard. One day it was snakes; the next it was droughts or renegade Indians. Sarah wondered for an instant if they had bitten off more than they could chew. Everything appeared under control for the moment. She took a depth breath to allow the flow of tears that would relieve the tight feeling in her chest.
“Snakes make mighty fine eating, ma’am. You shouldn’t just pitch ’em out.”
Sarah looked up to see Jackson Beckett at the door. His broad smile had gaps where some of his tobacco-stained teeth had been. Word was that he came to Indian Territory after he killed his fiancée and her lover back in Texas. He never talked about the past and no one ever got drunk enough to ask him.
Jackson did all his business on a handshake. Known to be a straight talker, if you gave him your word you’d best keep it. Rumors followed him from Texas about his ability with a gun. Some said he killed five men by the time he was eighteen. Those departed souls may have misjudged him because of his physical appearance. He looked down right comical. It wasn’t from being almost toothless, although that helped. It was his legs. He was so bowlegged a pig could run through them without missing a step. Sarah wondered what he wanted from her.
“You’re welcome to him. He about scared the fire outta me. What are you doing over this way?”
“It’s the missus’ time. The boy was born dead early this morning. She won’t let me take him. She don’t answer when I talk to her. I was hoping you’d come back to the place with me. It’s scaring the youngin’s seeing their Ma like that. I brung the wagon figuring your man would be with the herd and you’d need to tote the girls along.”
“Yes, of course I’ll come. It’ll only take a minute to get ready. Set the kettle inside the door and throw some dirt on the fire for me if you would, please.” Sarah grabbed what she needed to take for the girls. “Give me a minute to leave Gus a note. I don’t want him frettin’ if he comes home and finds us gone. Molly, you get over to the bucket and wash your hands and face so we can go.”
“You know Missus Cannon, my wife’s an Injun?”
“I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Maria at the store in Beef Creek. I’ll get my toe sack while you load Lula’s basket.”
Neither the oppressive heat nor the creaking wheels could keep the girls awake. Instead, the bouncing of the wagon seemed to lull them deeper into sleep. Sarah fanned them with her bonnet, while she held a handkerchief over her mouth to keep out the trail dust.
Jackson passed the time sharing stories about growing up in North Texas. “I was the fourth in a family of twelve sons. I even learned to dance with a younger brother as my partner. As they grew taller, I’d pick a younger one so I could always be the man.” He looked over at Sarah and broke into a huge grin. “My ma was the only woman in thirty miles and could run cattle as good as my old man. I’m a feared a lack of female company has left me sorely lacking in understanding womenfolk.”
Sarah laughed at his stories not sure if he was telling the truth or funning with her.
“So how did you end up in Indian Territory?” There, she felt brave enough to ask what many a man only guessed.
“A bunch of us were chasing cattle rustlers. Them yahoos crossed the Red River and headed for the Wichita’s. Got me a job with the May Brothers and never went back.”
Well, she’d keep that a secret. It was much more fun to think of him as a desperado.
“My wife’s Kiowa. She were a young girl when I made her acquaintance. She’d been kidnapped by the Pawnee. Yessum, them damn. Excuse my language, ma’am. Them horse raiders come all the way down to Kiowa territory. Usually, they don’t meander south of the Cherokee Strip. I joined the volunteers that saddled up to bring them broncs back. Like I said, they weren’t nothing but a bunch of horse thieves. Them bucks done left behind their worn out ponies and stole new ones. Then they grabbed up Walking Straight and her cousin and let out north.”
At Stinking Water Creek Jackson stopped the wagon. “Ma’am, we need to stop here and rest these horses. You may want to freshen up.”
Sarah crawled down from the wagon and dipped her handkerchief in the stream. She wrung it out then climbed into the back of the wagon and tried to get Lula to nurse, but the child wouldn’t stay awake. Molly woke just long enough to take a drink and be wiped down with the damp cloth.
“Are we there yet?”
“No, it’s just a little farther. When we get there you can stay outside and play with Mr. Beckett’s youngin’s. We’ll stay the night and go back home tomorrow.”
They loaded up and Beckett resumed his story. “Our Kiowa tracker kept us on their trail, but we never eye-balled them. It got right spooky when we got up into Osage country. Them’s fierce fighters and don’t cotton to white folks on their land. Well, these here Pawnee we was chasing never stopped for more than a couple of hours at a time. It was like they weren’t even human. Ghost riders or something.”
“I would have been scared out of my wits. Then what?” She listened caught up in the drama.
“Just when we thought we’d lost them for good, we stumbled onto their main camp. We know’d it was the main camp ‘cuz we saw women and children. Another wrangler, Reed Middleton, and me took some trade goods to parley with ol’ Bad Nose. Walking Straight and White Willow Woman had been given to his missus. We traded two rifles, a couple of mirrors, and some tobacco for both of ‘em. Yes siree, not a shot fired. I wish that were the end of the story, but it weren’t. One night coming back two white men jumped Walking Straight in the dark and tried to drag her in the bushes. The one holding her legs said “what the hell” she were damaged goods anyway. I killed them both. Don’t regret it one bit. No ma’am, some men are born to be killed.”
“Oh, my goodness. How awful for her.”
“She were still an innocent child when them rascals tried to do her harm. Been hitched to her seven years now. Married her in church, too. She took the Christian name, Maria. We’ve had a good life. She don’t speak much English and I don’t speak much Injun, but we manage. Well, to tell the truth ma’am, I’ve been known to butcher the English language myself. It’s no wonder folks have trouble talking to her. Pretty much all these tribes speak a little Cheyenne and sign. These Chickasaw won’t have nothing to do with her, beings she’s Kiowa. I heard around you delivered Jonah Belk’s boy and come looking for you. Hope you don’t mind.”
“And I’m glad you did, but I’m confused. What about your other children?”
“Their ma died and their pa, a white man named Peterson, run off. Me and Maria found them and took ’em in. They’re ours now even if he ever came back to claim them.”
Sarah told Jackson about her childhood in Georgia. How her father had served The Cause and the family lived with her grandparents and their younger children while he was gone.
“Even in hard times we knew we’d get by as long as we had God’s love and our family beside us.”
“When’d you start midwifing?”
“I helped my Grandmother Bryce deliver my sister.”
“Well, I’ll be. Ain’t that something.”
“Yes, I’ll never forget it.” Sarah wiped the sweat from her forehead. “My Grandmother Bryce was part Choctaw. She used a lot of Indian remedies. Her relatives used to come to visit from Sixtowns, in Alabama. One cousin, Thomas Fox, used to say I was meant to be a healer. I hope he was right. I’ve tried to carry on like Grandma taught me. She was a woman of vision. She said that when women get the vote, politicians won’t send our young men off to war without a mighty good reason. I miss her terribly.”
A mutual admiration developed that afternoon in a cloud of dust behind a pair of grey mules.
When they arrived at the log cabin, the Beckett children were gathered outside. The two girls grabbed hold of their father and started talking and crying at the same time. Jackson pointed Sarah to the bedroom while he calmed them.
Maria Beckett didn’t move when she entered the room. The still naked baby lay cradled tight in her arms. The discoloration from the cord showed around his neck.
Sarah walked back into the living area to retrieve her toe sack of roots and herbs. Margareta, who appeared to be only a few years younger than Sarah, entered the cabin. Distraught, the young girl waited to see if she could help.
“We didn’t know what to do so we started a fire and have a kettle of hot water waiting outside.” Tears still clung to the frightened young girl’s eyelashes. “CeCe and I tried to clean Mama up, but she looked at us like she didn’t know us.”
“I know. There’s nothing else you could’ve done. Your Mama’s lucky to have two sweet girls like you to care for her.”
Margareta gathered some linens from a trunk. “You can use these if you need them. Mama won’t care.”
While they talked Sarah washed and dried her hands then poured some hot water into a cup and added some dried yarrow petals and leaves. She poured the remaining hot water into a nearby basin.
“We’ll need enough water in the morning for her to bathe. You can help me if you like. Tonight she doesn’t have the strength to do anything but sleep. Don’t worry.” Sarah put her arm around the girl’s shoulder and kissed the top of her head. “She’s just weak. With some rest she’ll be fine.”
She carried the brew into the bedroom and placed it on the nightstand. About the time she sat down on the bed next to Maria, Lula woke and wanted to be fed. She’d have to wait. One of the Beckett girls would have to give her a sugar tit until she got Maria settled in.
At each birth Sarah mentally checked off the steps her grandmother had followed. All she could do for Maria now was to get the bleeding under control. Maria’s eyes fluttered when Sarah spread open her legs to make sure all the afterbirth had released and drained. She put a cool cloth across the woman’s forehead and behind her neck.
“He dead.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Maria opened her eyes.
“Yes, he’s resting with the angels now. Drink some of this tea. It’ll help.”
“He no move,” she rolled her hands on her belly then held up five fingers. “I know he dead.” There were no tears; just a quiet surrender to the will of God.
Maria took a couple sips and fell back on the pillow exhausted.
“Thank you, sister-friend.”
“You get some rest. Tomorrow we’ll get you a proper bath and the healing can begin. I need to take the baby and prepare him.”
“No. Tonight he mine.”
“He’ll always be yours. You’ll meet your son again in heaven. Maria, I know what you’re feeling. I lost two babies between Molly and Lula. I wasn’t nineteen yet and thought the sorrow would haunt me the rest of my life. Time eases the pain. You’re still young and you can try again.”
“No. Vision say this the only one.” She turned her head into the pillow.
Sarah crawled onto the bed and took the older woman into her arms as a mother would cradle her own child.
“Only God knows for sure. Remember, he entrusted the four children outside into your care. They love you. You are their mother.”
Maria cried for several minutes then said some words in Kiowa and released her grip on the infant. Sarah rolled off the bed and wrapped the body in a yard of white muslin.
“You need to get some rest. Have you eaten today?”
“No. No eat.”
“I know you’re not hungry, but you need to get strong. I’m going to send Margareta in with some broth. She needs to feel she’s helping you.”
From the adjoining room the Beckett girls tried to calm Lula. The infant let out a loud wail letting everyone know she was hungry and wasn’t going to be put off any longer.
“Thank you, sister-friend. Go to your baby.”
Sarah opened the door and left with the body of the infant in her arms. Jackson was waiting.
“She’s half asleep. You can go in if you would like. I’m going to send Margareta in with some food. This is your son. Would you like me to prepare his body for burying?”
“Yessum, if you would. I’m going to sit with her a spell. Let me look at him first.”
Sarah handed the newborn’s body to Jackson. He opened the wrap and looked at the face of his son.
“We were going to name him Jeremiah Stands Tall Beckett after our pa’s.”
“Jeremiah Stands Tall Beckett is a good Christian name.”
“I need to look at him hard so I don’t never forget his face. I want to know him when I get to heaven.” He kissed the babe’s forehead and handed him over to Sarah. “I don’t know what I’d done if you hadn’t come, Missus Sarah.” Jackson turned and entered the room to comfort his wife as Sarah placed Jeremiah in the cradle the babe would no longer need after tonight.
Lula let out a shriek. She would have to come before anything else. She’d been patient, but now it was her turn. Sarah took her hungry red-faced daughter and sat in the rocker to calm and nurse the youngster.
She looked around the cabin. Wonderful woven reed baskets and clay pots adorned with geometric designs sat around the spacious room. Had Maria made them?
Across from the fireplace a large tanned elk skin covered most of the wall. In the center of the hide was painted a large teepee. White faced men held rifles in the air and circled the structure on horseback while a herd of buffalo watched. On the ground in front of the herd a white buffalo laid bleeding from a gun shot wound. Here and there unusual symbols dotted the artist’s canvas. She’d have to remember to ask Jackson what it all signified.
Sarah relaxed for the first time that day.
“Mama, look at my fireflies.”
Molly skipped over to the rocker and held up a pint-sized canning jar that Margareta had given her to catch the luminous nocturnal beetles. “They’re wonderful. I used to capture them and pretend they were magic. I’d make three wishes, and then release them back into the dark night to be caught again by some other child.”
“I can’t keep them?”
“No darling, they need to fly free. It’s getting late. We need to get you fed and down to sleep.”
“We ate. Mr. Beckett fed us when you were in with Missus Beckett. Please Mama, let me stay outside with the children.”
It was so seldom Molly had anyone to play with; Sarah relented. “Yes, you may. Stay with the other children near the fire. You never can be too sure what’s lurking out in the dark.”

* * * * *

“She’s sleeping real peaceful now, Missus Sarah,” Jackson said.
“We’ll just let her sleep till she wakes up. Lula ate and played for awhile and is fast asleep.” She crossed the room. “We need to get Jeremiah ready for tomorrow. Do you know of any Kiowa burial traditions that we need to follow?”
“No ma’am. I sure don’t. We’ll just do the best we know how.”
Sarah unwrapped the baby from the swaddling and bathed him in water scented with dried sage. He must have weighed a good six and a half pounds. Like his mother, he had a head full of coarse black hair. Small deep-set eyes, a button nose and full lips completed the infant’s sweet face. Only his coloring told the story of his struggle and untimely death.
“He’s a beautiful baby. I know he would’ve grown up to be a good son. Do you have any other children in Texas, Jackson?”
“No, just got them four outside. That’s plenty enough for me.”
“I would have four if the two I lost had lived. You and Maria are blessed. It might help your wife if you let her know you are pleased with the family you have. She may experience feelings of guilt that she’s not given you your own child.”
“I’m not good with words. I can stand toe-to-toe with any man, but talking to women about love and stuff just don’t come natural.”
“She’ll appreciate that you made the effort.”
“Yessum. I’ll go out to the shed in the morning and make a box for the boy.”
“And a cross.”
“Missus Cannon, I was hoping you’d say the words. I have a Bible.’ He hesitated than added, “I never learnt to read.”
“I’d be happy to read God’s word. Now, we need to get the children in for the night. Morning will come soon enough. The girls and I will need to get back to our place. Gus will be worried.”
“Yessum. I’ll get you home before supper.”
Jackson walked out and called the children in for bed. The older girls got the boys washed and settled in the loft. Molly shared a bed with Margareta and CeCe. Sarah made herself comfortable on a pallet in the corner with Lula close by.
As her eyes closed she wondered if Gus had found the cornbread and beans she’d left him. He’d be unhappy there was only a cold meal waiting, but would understand when he saw her note. Or so she hoped.
Bacon sizzled in the frying pan as the Beckett girls cooked breakfast the next morning. The aroma of bacon and coffee filled the home. They fixed a tray for Maria, but she was sleeping when Margareta took it in so she left it next to the bed. When the meal was done, Margareta and CeCe cleared the table and started heating the water to finish the dishes.
Jackson excused himself and headed out to the shed to complete the casket and cross. He returned for Sarah and the body of his son. The place they chose faced east so Jeremiah would experience the warmth of the morning sun.
“Heavenly Father, here is the body of your child Jeremiah Beckett. His soul rests with the angels. Maria and Jackson know they’ll see him again sitting at the foot of your throne. I’ll now read the 23rd Psalm from your holy book. “The Lord is my shepherd…””
Jackson stayed behind and closed the small grave.
Sarah peeked in to see if Maria had eaten her breakfast only to find the tray untouched.
“Maria, time to wake up. We need to bathe you.” The woman didn’t stir. She tried to arouse her again. “Maria.” Sarah jostled the woman. No response. She ran to the front door.
“Jackson!”
Margareta stopped washing dishes to look in Sarah’s direction. Frozen in place she waited to hear the words.
“Coming.”
Sarah watched the blood drain from his face.
“Yessum. She ain’t…?” He couldn’t finish.
“No, she’s still breathing. Her condition doesn’t seem to be caused by anything physical. She has willed herself to the spirit world to be with her son. I’ve seen it before. Grief clouds a person’s thinking. It’s not too late to bring her back.”
“What can we do? I’ll do anything.”
“We have to talk her back. We need to convince her there’s more for her in this life than in the next world.”
“How?”
“She needs to hear the voices of the ones she loves on this side, but you must speak to her in a calm loving manner. Can you do that?”
He headed for the bedroom without answering and placed himself on the bed next to Maria. He kissed her eyes and gathered her into his arms. Sarah was struck at his gentleness.
“Walking Straight, Maria, I know how much you want to be with our son, but now’s not the time. You know this old cowboy cain’t say all them purdy things women want to hear, but sure as there’s a God above I love you. I cain’t think of life without you. Me and them four children need you to come back to us.”
Without being asked Margareta joined Jackson in the embrace.
“Mama, don’t leave me. Please. Please, Mama.” She lapsed into Kiowa. Sarah couldn’t understand her words, but knew their meaning.
The next several hours would be crucial.

* * * * *

It was late afternoon when Sarah heard the horse’s hooves and Gus’ voice yelling at Molly. She could tell by his tone he was put out. She picked up Lula and walked outside to greet him so they wouldn’t disturb the Becketts.
He started in as soon as he saw her. “Don’t you know when to come home? Why do I have to come and fetch you, girl?”
“Let’s walk over to the barn.”
“I don’t care if they hear. You’re my wife.”
“I left you a note. Maria’s having a hard time and needs attention.”
“Let her family tend her.”
“Gus, be reasonable.”
They heard a man’s footsteps behind them. Jackson Beckett walked up and looked Gus Cannon straight in the face.
“Missus Cannon, Maria is stirring now if you don’t mind taking a look at her. Cece will watch Lula and Molly.”
Sarah looked at Gus then headed inside.
“We appreciate Missus Cannon coming to help.”
“Yes, well, I came to fetch my family home.”
“So that’s why you come on horseback. All four of ya’ll are going back on that one scrawny nag.”
“Listen here Beckett…”
“You listen here.” Beckett stepped forward with his right foot forcing Gus to retreat a step. “I’m not some female you can bully. That’s a fine woman you got there. You treat her right or we’ll be talking again. I’ll be bringing her back tomorrow. Now you git outta my sight. ”

* * * * *

Margareta held her mother close and whispered in her ear. Maria’s eyes opened, but she didn’t speak.
“Maria,” Sarah rolled her on her back. “You’ve been on a journey, but now you’re home. We’re going to clean you up and then your children are waiting to see you.”
She nodded her consent.
Margareta brought the tub into the bedroom. Maria stood as they poured the warm water over her. The young girl made the bath a ritual of love as she tenderly ran the cloth over her mother’s arms and legs. Her hands gently massaged Maria’s scalp then towel dried her long black hair. When finished they helped her step from the tub and into a clean nightgown.
Sarah heard Gus ride off. Huh, that’s strange. He left without saying goodbye. Well, there’ll be hell to pay later.
After they changed the bed and made the room presentable, Sarah opened the door for the family. She took Lula and Molly outside so they could have some privacy. Molly took off chasing tumbleweeds while she and Lula found some shade.
Why had God decided Jeremiah should be born dead? Goodness couldn’t have been a factor since babies are born pure of spirit. She’d considered asking the pastor, but knew she’d get his standard reply. “Read your Bible and don’t question the workings of the Master.”
She didn’t realize she had fallen asleep until her leg twitched and woke her. Lula still dozed at her side. From the house came Molly’s sweet voice. A red sun hung low on the horizon. It must be near dinner time.
Food was being dished up as she entered the house. Her nose told her it was beef stew and corn bread. Jackson greeted her with his toothless grin. To Sarah’s delight, Maria felt well enough to take her place at the table.
“Beginning to think I’d have to wake you girls for supper. Set yourselves down before it gets cold.” Jackson teased.
“Jackson, you never fail to astonish me. This is really good.”
“I started on roundups driving the chuck wagon as a cook’s helper. My older brothers wouldn’t let me wrangle cattle until I know’d how to brew coffee you could tan hides with, and bake biscuits so high you had to unhinge your jaw to get them in your mouth. I chewed a lot of dust before they’d let me ride along side them varmints.”
It was an enjoyable evening, but the time came for them to head for bed and get some rest for the trip home. Sarah got the girls cleaned up and her pallet spread out.
“Missus Sarah , Maria would like a word with you before you bed down. I’ll wait out here.”
Color had returned to Maria’s lovely face. Contentment replaced the pain in her eyes.
“Sister-friend, thank you. I see baby in spirit world. He happy. I come back to children and husband. You now my sister.”
“I’m proud to be your sister. You rest now. I’ll see you before I go.”
The darkness enveloped her. Gus’s face and what she faced tomorrow were her last thoughts as she dropped off into a fitful sleep.

* * * * *

Jackson had them on the road soon after ten. He wanted to be on the road earlier in the cool of the morning, but had to stop to repair a harness before they left. Sarah remained quiet as she concentrated on what was ahead.
“You know Missus Cannon, it’s none of my business…” He stopped waiting for her to urge him on.
“I know where this is going, Mr. Beckett. I apologize for my husband’s abrupt manners. He was worried about us.”
“I may be no more than an uneducated yahoo, but this ain’t the Old South. Out here husbands and wives need to be partners. Sometimes it’s hard to let go of the old ways. This land is changing every day; some of it good, some of it bad. You need to change or go back where you came from.”
‘I don’t understand.”
“There’s no reason for your man to treat to you like he does. You know that and I know that.”
“It wasn’t like that in the beginning.”
“I guessed that or you wouldn’t still be with him. He’s a city fellar that’s bungled everything he’s tried out here. Gall durn it, he’s failed his family. He knows it and he knows you know it. I declare Missus Cannon, he leads you around like a bridled mare he’s gitten ready to throw a blanket on and break. Get up some gumption and tell the man to treat you right.”
“We’ve fallen on hard times is all.”
“Sarah, just think over what I said.”
The long periods of silence during the remainder of the trip were uncomfortable for both concerned.
When they arrived at the dugout, Gus was gone. A note said he would be back in two days. For the first time in their stormy marriage Sarah wondered if Gus had it in him to abandon them.

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“Sarah remained quiet as she concentrated on what was ahead.
“You know Missus Cannon, it’s none of my business…” He stopped waiting for her to urge him on.
“I know where this is going, Mr. Beckett. I apologize for my husband’s abrupt manners. He was worried about us.”
“I may be no more than an uneducated yahoo, but this ain’t the Old South. Out here husbands and wives need to be partners. Sometimes it’s hard to let go of the old ways. This land is changing every day; some of it good, some of it bad. You need to change or go back where you came from.”
‘I don’t understand.”
“There’s no reason for your man to treat to you like he does. You know that and I know that.”
“It wasn’t like that in the beginning.”
“I guessed that or you wouldn’t still be with him. He’s a city fellar that’s bungled everything he’s tried out here. Gall durn it, he’s failed his family. He knows it and he knows you know it. I declare, he leads you around like a bridled mustang he’s gitten ready to throw a blank on and break. Get up some gumption and tell the man to treat you right.”
“We’ve fallen on hard times is all.”
“Sarah, just think over what I said.”
The long periods of silence during the remainder of the trip were uncomfortable for both concerned.”

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Max Brand was a pen name of American writer Frederick Schiller Faust (1892-1944). Faust started his profession by selling western stories to the pulps of the 1910s. By the 1920s, Faust was writing exclusively for the different well-known western pulp magazines of that time. In the 1930s, Brand became a screenwriter at one point he was earning ,000 per week and enjoying success from his characters Destry and Dr. Kildare. Dr. Kildare was adapted to motion pictures, radio, tv, and comic books. He wrote much more than 500 novels for magazines and almost as several stories of shorter length. His total literary output is estimated to have been amongst 25,000,000 and 30,000,000 words.

This unexpurgated edition consists of the total text with errors and omissions corrected.

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