Wild Splendor (24 page)

Soon Kit appeared at the readied hole. Carrying the wrapped body in his arms, he stepped through the hole, then walked on past the congregation, going where Sage had directed him earlier to go. The people followed him up a hillside, Sage, Leonida, and the singer at the lead. The walk was dusty, the sun hot, the heat pulsing.

When the crest of the hill was reached, a shade tree was pointed out. Beneath it the grave had already been dug. Pure Blossom was laid into the opened arms of the earth.

Kit stepped back and stood beside Sage and Leonida. Gifts were placed in the grave with her. Leonida had not known of this custom, and badly wanted to give Pure Blossom something of herself. Her hand drifted to the squash blossom necklace that rested around her neck. Sage had repaired its clasp. Her fingers trembled as she unclasped it, filled with remembrances of the moment Pure Blossom had given it to her. Pure Blossom would be proud of this gift, for while she was alive she had known how precious it was to Leonida.

Leonida knelt down and placed the squash blossom necklace with Pure Blossom's other gifts of love.

A warm hand in hers drew her back to her feet. She gazed up into Sage's loving eyes, seeing pride in them, letting her know that he approved of the gift.

The ceremony lasted a short while longer as songs continued to be lifted into the heavens. And then the crowd began slowly dispersing. Sage went to the grave and knelt down on both knees. He began scooping the dirt over Pure Blossom's wrapped body and the many gifts that lay in the grave with her.

Leonida put a hand to her mouth, stifling her wonder when Kit went and knelt on the opposite side of the grave and helped Sage fill it with the dirt.

Sage and Kit stopped for a moment, their eyes meeting momentarily. Then they both smiled and continued with the chore at hand.

Leonida sighed. For the first time in weeks she had hope that things were going to work out after all.

Chapter 29

Yes, this is Love, the steadfast and the true,
The immortal glory which have never set.

—C
HARLES
S
WAIN

 

 

Leonida served Sage and Kit Carson corn soup and pine-needle tea, then sat down beside Sage with her own platter of food. Though the two men began eating in silence, her own appetite had waned with apprehension of what lay ahead. Runner was still with Adam, as Leonida had encouraged in order to keep him out of range of the possible heated arguments that might arise between Sage and Kit.

Unable to eat, Leonida set her wooden bowl aside, then grew even more tense when Sage set his bowl down beside him, his soup half-eaten. She looked guardedly over at Kit Carson as he also set his bowl aside, having scarcely touched his food.

“It is with much gratitude that I thank you for your part in my sister's burial services,” Sage said, drawing his knees part way up to his chest and crossing his legs at the ankles. He placed a hand on each of his knees, his back stiff. “For your kindness, I wish to speak with you of your freedom.”

“Pure Blossom was sweet, kind and innocent,” Kit said. “I was glad to assist in her burial.” He drew his knees up before him as well and hugged them with his arms. “I now listen to what you have to say with an open mind and a friendly heart,” he said, nodding at Sage.

“Our friendship goes back in time many moons,” Sage said, his face a mask of control. “It is because of this, and because of what you did for my sister, that I am allowing you to leave. You are no longer a captive. Nor are the white women and children. But, Kit Carson, hear my warning well. This Navaho chieftain, and his people who are loyal to him, will never be enslaved on a reservation. I take my people far, far away, where no white man can find or harm them. It is best that when you leave, you do not turn your eyes in this direction again, for if you or your pony soldiers ever come near my people again, this Navaho chieftain will become your bitter enemy forever.”

“I listen to you with mixed emotions,” Kit said. “You speak of freedom in one heartbeat, and in the next you speak the word ‘enemy.'”

“Only because I have found that when dealing with
any
white man, one must not ever be too confident that friendship will last long between them,” Sage said flatly. He folded his arms across his chest. “Is that not so, Kit Carson? Have you not turned your back on Sage now more than once, to make room in Navaholand for more white people settlers?”

“Only in the name of progress,” Kit said, his eyes wavering.

“Progress,” Sage said in a hiss. “That word cuts deep into my soul. Does not that word mean in the English tongue ‘a gradual betterment'? Whose? Of course it is always the white man's, not the Navaho's. It is called progress in the white man's culture if the Navaho are forced into a white man's prison cleverly named reservation.”

Sage placed a fist over his heart. “Kit Carson, this chieftain thinks of progress for
his
people,” he said. He then leaned over, staring angrily at Kit. “This chieftain warns you never to get in the way of the Navaho's progress again,” he said. “Do you understand?”

Kit squirmed uneasily on the mat beneath him. He ran his fingers through his thick golden hair and cleared his throat nervously.

Then he put his hands on his knees again, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders. “Your words are firm, as are your convictions,” he said. “I promise you, Sage, that I will do everything in my power to see that you are left alone, so that you are able to build a good life again with your people. I will tell the President my feelings for you and your people, and that I believe you should not be forced onto a reservation. I am certain myself that you had no part in the raids on the settlers.”

Then Kit paused. “Yet there was that attack on the stagecoach,” he said solemnly. “That was an act of terrorism. Some of the white pony soldiers were wounded. You even have with you many white captives. That is something the President won't be able to forget so easily.”

“And I would not expect him to,” Sage said matter-of-factly. “I regret having wounded several pony soldiers. But no harm has come to the captive women and children. They have become among us as though Navaho themselves. They have been fed well. They have been kept warm with Navaho blankets and fires. They have slept comfortably alongside the Navaho. You can take
that
back to your President. Tell him to ask any of those who have lived among the Navaho these past weeks if they have any complaints, other than not having been given the right to leave.”

“There was one casualty among the women, isn't that so?” Kit asked, forking an eyebrow.

“Yes, there was one among the women who passed away,” Leonida said quickly, “Trevor Harrison's mother, Carole. But she died of natural causes. Even if she had been at the fort, she would still be dead. She had a lung ailment. Her days were numbered when she entered the stagecoach. You cannot blame Sage for that.”

“I was not sure of the circumstances,” Kit said humbly. “I will take Trevor back with me to Fort Defiance. I will make sure he is placed with relatives.”

“That is not necessary, Trevor is now called Runner,” Sage said proudly, “My wife and I have taken him in, as though he was borne of us. He is now our son in every way.”

“You have adopted him?” Kit said, gasping. He leaned forward, frowning, “I'm sorry. I still must take him back with me. He will be better off with relatives.”

Desperation seized Leonida's insides. “You can't have him,” she said in a rush, “I mean to say, he has no living relatives. Before she died, Carole asked me to raise him as if he were my own child. I gave my word that I would. And, Kit, I never break a promise to anyone.”

For a moment there was a strained silence, then Kit nodded. “I am sure you will make a good mother,” he said in an unconvincing voice. “But there is the fact that you are now married to Sage. The child will have no means to acquire an education.” He cleared his throat. “And, Leonida, he will be raised to learn the customs of the Navaho, instead of—”

“I am already teaching him how to read and write,” Leonida interrupted. There was now at least a measure of peace between Sage and Kit. She wished to get these discussions over with and get Kit on his way before something was said that would cause Sage to change his mind.

“And to live with the Navaho, one must learn their customs,” Leonida continued. “He is adapting well. And he is happy. Isn't that all that matters?”

Kit kneaded his chin, then nodded. “The child has suffered a great loss,” he said. “And if you have the ability to lift him up from his grieving and be happy, so be it. Who am I to argue against something that is obviously right for the child?”

“My wife is very right for the child,” Sage said. His voice and his smile were soft as he cast a quick glance toward Leonida.

Then his eyes narrowed as he turned his conversation back to the business at hand. “You have said that you will plead the Navaho cause with your President,” he said. “That is good and I am grateful. But there is one more thing that we have not discussed.”

“And that is?” Kit said, leaning forward.

“Those Navaho who came down from the mountain and surrendered to the soldiers,” Sage said smoothly. “A part of the terms of my releasing you is that you promise to release those of my people who foolishly joined you to go to the reservation.”

Kit's jaw tightened. He straightened his back and placed his hands on his knees again. “You have already promised my release,” he said, his voice drawn. “You said nothing then of further terms of my release.”

“It is being said now,” Sage said flatly.

Kit inhaled a deep breath. “I'm sorry, Sage,” he said softly. “That's impossible. Those Navaho surrendered. They did it willingly. This is something that cannot be reversed. It is by the order of the President that they are going to the reservation. It is not an easy task changing the President's mind. I will be waging perhaps a private war between myself and the President when I go and argue
your
case. Let us leave it at that, Sage, or all might be lost and I may be forced to hunt you down again.”

Kit paused. “Think of those of your people who stood devotedly by you,” he then said. “They deserve to have a chance. I am giving them
and
you a chance to escape to a new land. Let me and the captives go now without requiring promises of me that I cannot keep.”

Sage gave this much thought. He was unhappy about getting only half of that which he had demanded from Kit Carson, yet he knew that what Kit had said was true. If Sage insisted on the release of those Navaho who had turned their back on their chief, he might be endangering the rest of his beloved, strongly devoted people. It did not seem a risk worth taking.

“Go,” he said, rising to his feet. “You are free to leave. Take the captives with you.”

Leonida rose slowly to her feet, relief flooding through her.

Kit got to his feet and went to Sage. He looked questioningly into Sage's dark eyes, then without further thought embraced Sage affectionately. “My friend,” he said. “It is good to be able to call you that again.”

Sage returned the hug, then stepped away. “Friendships last as long as trust is maintained between two people,” he said. “I will go now and speak to my warriors about your return to your people. Many will escort you and the women and children. Horses will be loaned you until you reach your people.”

“That is very considerate of you,” Kit said. “Thank you, Sage. I truly appreciate it.”

Sage turned and left.

Leonida went to Kit. “Thank you for everything,” she said, then without hesitation gave him a hug. “Thank you for understanding what freedom means to Sage and his people.”

“I have always understood the meaning of freedom for all Indians,” Kit said. “Most of my adult life has been spent trying to make wrongs right between the white and Indian communities. Of late, though, it has become almost impossible. There are so many settlers rushing west for land and a new way of life. The Indians are in the way. Navaholand is now populated more with people who have white skin than those with red. Washington wanted it this way.” He shrugged. “I'm one man and I take my orders from Washington. What else can I say?”

Leonida clutched his arm strongly. “Please do all that you can to assure Sage's freedom,” she begged. “He deserves no less and you know it.”

“All that I can say is that I will try my damnedest,” Kit said. He gazed into her eyes. “What am I to tell Harold when I get back to the fort?”

Leonida flinched and drew her hand back to herself. The sudden mention of Harold caught her off guard. “Harold?” she murmured. “Lord, I had completely forgotten about him.” She ran her fingers through her hair nervously, then lifted her chin proudly. “Tell him the truth, Kit. Tell him that I am now married to Sage. It isn't fair to let him think that he might still have a chance with me.”

“How did this marriage come about?” Kit asked, clasping his hands behind him. “You were among those taken captive, were you not?”

“Yes, I was,” Leonida said. “But not intentionally. Sage had no idea I was on that stagecoach.”

“What difference did it make if he did or not know?” Kit further questioned.

“You see, we had met before,” she said, blushing. “We had been attracted to one another before the stagecoach holdup. When we were thrown together as we were traveling toward his stronghold, our true feelings for one another surfaced. We were married shortly after we reached his stronghold.”

“Even though you were spoken for by Harold?” Kit asked, sighing.

“Perhaps Harold still regarded me possessively,” Leonida softly explained. “But I did not feel the same toward him, ever. My father arranged the marriage. As you saw, I was on the stagecoach leaving Harold. That was explanation enough to him, I thought, as to why. I could never marry a man like him. I don't even know now why I ever allowed my father to persuade me that it might work between myself and that . . . and that cad.”

“I see,” Kit said, then put a hand gently on her shoulder. “I shall make Harold understand things.” He cleared his throat nervously. “I wish you much happiness, yet I don't see how it can be achieved living the life of an Indian.”

“As Sage's wife, I could not be happier,” Leonida murmured. “Whatever obstacles get in the way, Sage and I will work them out together.”

Runner burst into the wigwam, crying. Leonida caught him up into her arms as he made a lunge for her.

“What's the matter, sweetie?” she asked, brushing tears from his cheeks.

“Adam is leaving,” Runner wailed. “He can't leave. He's my best friend!”

Leonida felt trapped, not knowing what to say that might alleviate his pain. He had already lost his mother. And now his best friend was leaving him? To a small child, a best friend was something like a lifeline. They depended on each other for sharing their secrets and for so many more things.

And she was afraid that his next words would be—to allow him to go with Adam, to return to the ways of the white world instead of living like an Indian!

“You should be happy instead of sad that Adam and his mother are able to return now to their loved ones,” Leonida tried to explain. “Don't you know that Adam's father is worried sick over him? If anything happened to you, Sage and I would hardly be able to bear it. It is the same with Adam. His father will be so happy when he has his son back with him. Adam will be as happy to be with his father. And Adam's mother. You want her to be happy, don't you? She's going to be reunited with her husband. That is like if I had been gone for a long time and I was finally able to return to Sage. Can't you see? It is the same for Adam and his mother and father.”