In the Face of Danger (4 page)

“They’re traveling from one place to another, just as we are,” Ben said evenly, but Megan, close beside him on the wagon seat, could feel his muscles tense.

“It looks like a family,” Emma whispered. “Are they Kaw, do you think? Or Osage?”

Megan’s eyes were drawn to the rifles held in slings at the side of the saddles. “W-will they t-try to kill us?” she managed to stammer.

“Not this group,” Ben reassured her. “As I said, they’re just travelers like us.”

“How can that be?” Megan asked. “Mike said that Indians are savages, and they shoot arrows at people and cut off their hair, skin and all, and leave them for dead.”
And steal children
, she thought, but this was too terrifying to say aloud.

“There’ve been Indian wars, and there are more to come, I’m afraid,” Ben said, “but there are plenty of Indians who want only to be left alone to live in peace.”

The traveling group was close to them now. Ben touched the brim of his hat and held up one hand, palm out. One of the men on horseback held his right hand up in the same gesture.

“Peace,” Ben murmured.

Megan tried not to stare at the fringed and beaded jackets and leggings, the blankets wrapped around the women on foot and the old person peering out from the horse-drawn sling. Megan glanced into the eyes of a girl, probably close to her own age, that were as black as her hair. There was no expression on the girl’s face, not even curiosity, and Megan wondered what the girl might be thinking.

The taller woman suddenly called out something. One of the men on horseback wheeled his horse and reined him in directly in front of the Browders’ wagon, blocking their way. Unable to go forward, Ben halted his team.

“What do they want?” Emma whispered. She clutched Megan’s hand so tightly that it hurt, and Megan knew Emma was afraid.

“I don’t know,” Ben said in a quiet voice. Megan saw him glance quickly at his rifle, which was on the floorboards near his feet.

The woman spoke to the man again, then turned and stared greedily at Megan.
This is what the gypsy meant
, Megan said to herself.

M
EGAN CLUNG TO
Emma, so terrified that for a moment she felt faint. Her ears buzzed, and pinpricks of light flashed before her eyes, blinding her. Megan was so sure that the Indian woman wanted her it took a few moments for her to realize that the Indian man on horseback had spoken only one word: “Food.”

The Indian woman’s gaze moved from Megan to the wagon bed, and Megan sighed with relief, slumping against Emma. The woman had probably been as curious about Megan as Megan had been about the woman’s daughter.

“We have food for our own journey,” Ben said. “We’ll share what we have with you.”

The Indians made no sign they had heard, but Ben handed the reins to Emma, then jumped from the seat and walked to the rear of the wagon. Megan turned to watch him open the hamper Mrs. Parson had packed for them and wrap half the food in a bleached sack.

Solemnly the Indian woman stepped forward and took it. The Indian on horseback waited until Ben had climbed back into the wagon, then gave a single nod of his head.
He guided his horse to the head of his group, and the others followed behind him.

Clucking at Jay and Jimbo, Ben gave the reins a flip, and they moved on. Megan twisted to glance back, wondering if the Indian girl would turn to look at her, too, but the Indians went on their way as though the meeting hadn’t taken place.

“Where did they come from?” Megan whispered, even though she knew the Indians were now too far away to hear her question.

“If they were Kaws, they may have come from Council Grove, where the government has put them on a tract of land. Of course they could have been Osage, too. Kaws and Osage look alike. They’re taller and better formed than the people in some of the other tribes.”

“Other tribes? How many are there?”

“In the Kansas territory? Let’s see, there’s Pawnee, Cherokee, Wichita—” He broke off as he looked down at her. “Don’t look so worried, Megan. As I said before, the Indians are people like us. Mostly, we try to get along with each other.”

Megan thought again about the girl with the black eyes. “I’m glad you gave them something to eat,” she said.

“Speaking of something to eat,” Emma announced, “the sun’s high, and I’m hungry. I’m sure Megan is, too.”

“We’re not far from home. Sure you don’t want to just keep going?” Megan saw the twinkle in Ben’s eyes. He liked to tease, the way Da had. Megan well remembered the twitch of a smile on Da’s face and the way his eyes had sparkled with mischief.

Ben guided the wagon off the road, and the three of them soon demolished the rest of the cold meat and bread. As he closed the hamper, Ben glanced sideways
at Emma, ducking his head a little. “Nelda had put in three apples,” he said. “I gave them to the Indians.”

Megan thought of the wonderful tartness of an apple, and she could almost feel the spurt of juice in her mouth. She pictured the Indian girl eating her apple and knew she should feel generous about giving and sharing, but she didn’t. She wished that Ben had kept the apples.

Emma, however, simply said, “Nelda packed more food than we needed.” Ben rested a hand on her shoulder, and the look that passed between them revealed their closeness and contentment with each other. As Emma began to rearrange the hamper and the bundles around it into place again, she sighed. “Times have been harder for Nelda and Will than for us, and they could little spare all this food.”

Ben patted his stomach. “It went to a good cause.”

Emma smiled. “We’ll make it up to them when they come at Christmastime.”

Megan walked a few steps into the long grass and stared out over the low hills, the noonday sun warm on her back. She breathed in deeply the pleasant, sour-sweet fragrance of the stems crushed under her feet and realized with surprise that already she felt a part of this glowing landscape. She wanted to race across the prairie and fling herself facedown, burrowing into the grasses, hugging the earth from which they grew.

“This is the prairie’s golden time,” Emma said beside her. “Later on, in winter, the grass will be dried and blackened, but in the spring the new grass will grow and the hills will turn green. There’s wild indigo and bluestem. And after that there’s bird’s-foot violets, prairie roses, daisies, and purple milkweed. And the birds!” She laughed. “They start singing at sunrise, and after the sun has gone down you’ll often hear the mockingbird still
trilling, as though the day hadn’t been long enough to hold his song.”

“You love the prairie,” Megan said.

“Yes, I do,” Emma answered.

“Did you ever live in a city?”

“No. I’ve never known city life. Ben and I both lived on farms in Indiana, but when we married we didn’t have enough money to buy land there, so we came west to the open territory and found a plot of land we knew from the start should be ours.”

Ben had come up beside them. “Kansas soil is black and rich. If grasses can grow eight to ten feet high in it, then think what corn and wheat could do.” He gestured toward the land that lay before them. “Can you picture prosperous farms as far as the eye can see?”

“I could try,” Megan said, “but if the hills were covered with farms, then the prairie would be gone.”

Ben chuckled heartily. “Now, Ben,” Emma chided.

“I don’t mind,” Megan reassured her. “Sometimes the things I said would make Da laugh, too. But he always told me he wasn’t laughing at
me
, he was laughing at the rest of the world, which had no idea what was in store for it when responsible people would finally take over and set things to rights.”

Ben stopped and studied her for a moment. Then he smiled and said, “Your Pa was right, Megan. And as for this land, I hope there’ll be room for both farms and prairie.” He turned and headed for the wagon, saying over his shoulder, “Let’s get a move on. We want to show this young lady her new home.”

Megan was delighted when she saw the Browders’ house. It was built from logs, all the cracks between
them caulked with clay, and it had a sod-covered roof. As Emma had said, it was much larger than the Parsons’ house. The door at the front overlooked the road, and the back door faced a huge barn, with a side overhang to protect the wagon. Megan remembered Da’s pride in the buildings he had helped to build and knew Ben must take great pleasure in this house he had built with his own hands.

She looked at him shyly. “It’s a grand fine house you have made for yourselves,” she said.

Ben grinned at her. “It’s your home now, too, Megan,” he answered.

As they climbed down from the wagon and Ben began to unhitch the horses, they were greeted with delirious, joyful barks. Lady, a brown and white dog of mixed breed, half-waddled, half-ran to lick their fingers, wiggling and whining with pleasure.

“She’s telling us she missed us,” Emma said.

Megan could see how friendly Lady was, but she wasn’t used to dogs and wasn’t sure what she should do. As Lady finished greeting Emma and came over to carefully examine her, Megan looked to Emma for guidance.

Emma bent to stroke Lady’s head. “This is Megan, Lady. You’ll want to be her friend.” She said to Megan, “Close your fingers, then slowly hold out the back of your hand to Lady.”

As Megan did, Lady cautiously sniffed her hand. Satisfied, the dog moved forward, and Megan timidly scratched her behind the ears.

“She’ll accept you now,” Emma said, and she led Megan into the house, Lady following.

Just as Emma had described, there was a brightly colored quilt on the bed in the room Megan would have for her own. Her window faced the unplowed land that
rolled down to the river. Megan could see the river a fair distance away, bordered by trees with tall, graceful trunks and bright splotches of golden leaves. “Beautiful,” Megan whispered. She ached for the familiar crowded friendliness of that New York room, but she was not quite able to believe that this wonderful room was to be her own.

Megan soon decided, however, that the kitchen was her favorite place. She stood there admiring the wide fireplace and double swinging arms for holding kettles and pots over the embers. There was a small wood-burning stove, its black pipe disappearing through a hole in the roof, and pans and cooking tools galore hanging on the wall beside it. Oh, if Ma were only here to see this wonderful kitchen!

A sudden wave of longing for her mother swept over Megan with such force that she trembled and reached out for the back of a chair to steady herself. She had to put aside all wishful thinking and face the truth, she told herself. Ma would never see this room. It wasn’t likely that she would ever be with Ma again!

Megan closed her eyes, fighting down the cry that tried to explode from the tight place in her chest. Firmly, she pushed back the tears that threatened to come, tucking the pain into a hidden corner of her mind. This was no time to give in to her feelings. There were things to busy herself with. First, she would unpack her few clothes and stack them in the drawers of the small chest next to the bed in her room.…

“Megan!”

She turned to see Ben at the open front door. He beckoned to her and said, “Put on your coat and come outside. I want you to meet our near neighbor, Farley Haskill. He’s the one who looked after our livestock and property while we were in St. Joe.”

Megan grabbed her coat from the rack that stood next to the front door and shoved her arms into the sleeves. The breeze was chill, and she pulled the coat snugly around her, as she followed Ben outside.

Farley, a short, stocky, balding man, rubbed his hands on the seat of his overalls as Megan approached, then shook her hand. “Mighty pleased to make your acquaintance,” he mumbled, and Megan was surprised to perceive that he was as shy as she was. “It’s nice to have a child in these parts,” he added. “Nearest family with children is about three miles to the southwest.”

Megan realized that she’d been counting on some neighbor nearby to have children that she could take care of and play with. It was hard to imagine life without other children around. Ben must have realized her disappointment and added, “I guess it’s hard for someone from the big city to realize neighbors are far away.”

“Yes,” she admitted. “I was hoping you’d say that you and your wife had children, Mr. Haskill.”

His eyes opened wide. Then he stared at the ground, blushing, and shifted from one foot to the other. “No,” he said. “Never been married. I live alone.”

“Farley’s chosen to be a bachelor,” Ben said, amicably clapping a hand on Mr. Haskill’s shoulder.

But Megan caught a sudden, secretive spark in Mr. Haskill’s eyes before he turned away.
What is he hiding?
she wondered.

The two men began talking about things pertaining to the farm, so Megan ran back into the house. Emma was busily attacking the wooden floor with a broom. “Gone four days, and the dust is an inch thick!” she said.

Megan hadn’t noticed much dust, but she was good at sweeping. She had always done it for Ma. “Let me do that for you,” she said.

Emma kept a firm grip on the broom and smiled. “I’m just letting the house know I’m back,” she said. “Or maybe I’m doing this for myself, because it makes me feel that I’m home again and comfortable at settling in.”