Colton's Folly (Native American contemporary romance) (29 page)

Late the next afternoon Abby was finally able to take her walk. As she made her way down the snow-covered but passable street she noticed a tractor trailer pulling up to a group of storage sheds near the main corral. Its side read “Bridges’s Feed and Grain,” leading Abby to shake her head and wonder about the strange turn of events that had brought one of Richie’s attackers to the reservation’s rescue. She watched as the men formed an assembly line to unload blocks of salt, thirty-pound hay wafers, and sacks of pelleted feed and protein supplements, passing them from hand to hand, then storing them in the sheds for future use. As they worked
, it became obvious that Bridges had brought enough to last through most of the winter. It occurred to Abby that sometimes a guilty conscience came in handy, if one was the recipient of the payoff.

When the job was finished the men gathered in one of the sheds to warm themselves with steaming coffee. Abby followed them ins
ide and stood in a shadowy corner as Cat spoke for the others.

“We really appreciate what you’ve done, but we want a bill. We want to pay for all this.”

“Well, if you insist.” Bridges looked around at the faces, some nodding in agreement, some strangely sullen, but all serious. He continued, “You know, every year maybe a half dozen or so of my men leave for other parts. If some of you are willing, maybe you could work it off. I’d train you, teach you how to use the machinery to process forage and silage, how to chop and steam and press. Then you’d know how to harvest your own when the time came. We could work out some kind of co-op deal, maybe. Save you all some money down the road, and make things easier for me. What d’you think?”

Abby followed Bridges’ey
es as he looked around the circle again, searching for volunteers, but getting no reaction. He looked disappointed, and Abby found herself thinking, Well, what did you expect, instant forgiveness?

Again Cat spoke for the group. “That’s a good offer. We’ll discuss it and let you know, okay? We’ll call you in a few days, one way or the other.”

Cat walked Bridges outside, and by the time he reentered the shed a heated discussion had begun. The men had made themselves comfortable, perching on stacks of feed bags and climbing stall railings to sit with booted toes hooked around posts or heels wedged into the slatted sides.

Abby watched Cat’s face as the men talked, following his gaze as it roamed over the faces; she knew that in addition to listening to their words he was reading their expressions, their body language, gauging their tempers and inclinations while keeping his own opinions to himself.

Joshua Allen, a young man in his early twenties, was speaking angrily. “Ain’t no way I’m gonna work for that paleface! I didn’t ask him to come out here like the Great White Father taking care of his good little children. Haven’t we had enough of that charity crap already?”

Someone else spoke up. “Josh, look, it’s only charity if we don’t pay him back. No matter what his motives were, we can turn this into anything we want it to be.”

Abby silently applauded the man’s logic and looked over to see a tiny smile turn up the corner of Cat’s mouth.

A third man agreed, adding, “That’s why the job changes things. It puts us on an equal footing... like the barter system. We’d be exchanging goods for services. We wouldn’t be accepting charity. We’d be working for all this.” He motioned to the feed now filling the area around them.

“Do you think working for him would put us on an equal footing with him? You think he’s gonna feel that way?” asked Joshua. “Man, are you naive!” Abby winced at the anger and bitterness in the young man’s tone.

Another voice chimed in. “If he didn’t respect us as men, he wouldn’t have made the offer in the first place. We won’t be equal in skill, because we’ll be learning from him, but we will be acting like men, and he’ll know it. And we will, too.” Talk continued as the men debated back and forth, some siding with Joshua and others disagreeing. The noise rose and fell in waves, with Cat a quiet island at its edge. Finally he caught the eye of one of the older men and nodded for him to come forward from within the midst of the group. The man moved slowly, and as he did, the talk quieted to a murmur. He stood at Cat’s side, whispered something with which Cat seemed to agree, then calmly waited for total silence.

Lance Carter was one of the elders; that alone would have granted
him
the respect of the others. However, through the years his wisdom had helped to bring stability to the community. Descended from a line of warriors renowned through the generations for their bravery and loyalty, he had been an advisor to Chief Hawk and a council member for years.

When all heads were turned in his direction he spoke. “It is not enough to debate angrily with each other like children. We may be meeting in a shed instead of sitting around a council fire, and the smoke in the air may not be
kinnikinnick,
and we may not all be chiefs or sub-chiefs. Still, a decision must be made today that concerns the entire village and its future. Therefore we must be calm and orderly and examine all sides with as much care and wisdom as we have.

“Since all the council members are here and this is a policy decision that needs a council vote, I think it best that we suspend this informal discussion and hold a formal meeting instead.”

The council members agreed, and one of the younger men left to spread the word to the women and any men not already in attendance. Before long everyone who had an interest and could break away from their activities had packed into the shed. The doors were left open a foot or so to dissipate the smoke, and the talk continued, this time in an orderly fashion, as Abby stepped back even farther into the shadows.

What surprised her most during the discussion was the way people listened to each speaker, while periodically looking over at Cat as if to determine his reactions in the same way that he analyzed theirs.

Anyone who had an opinion was given an opportunity to express it, and all questions were answered, or at least discussed. The council members listened quietly as each person spoke; then each of them gave his opinion. Finally it was Cat’s turn. Abby watched with a shiver of awe as virtually every eye turned to him, and for the first time she felt his importance to these people and saw the high regard with which they viewed his opinions. She knew, somehow, that she was seeing something more than curiosity, or even the respect with which they treated the other council members.

He spoke slowly, his voice steady and well modulated, so that those farthest away heard him clearly, while those close to him were spared a shouted harangue. They heard instead the sincerity of his feelings and the thoughtful deliberations of a man who cared deeply for the future and welfare of his people.

“As Lance has already pointed out, and as so many others have agreed, the future is really what we’re talking about here. Our aim is to become as self-sufficient as possible. To do that we must have a number of sources of income. Raising cattle is the first, but raising cattle involves more than just herding beef in good weather. We need insurance that they can survive the winter, and that means having a sufficient supply of feed when grazing is out of the question. No one here wants to be dependent on anyone off the reservation. We all know what grief that can bring.”

There was a low murmur of agreement from his listeners, and an accompaniment of shaking heads and grimaces from those who remembered past disappointments.

“I believe that by taking this course of action we’ll be working toward achieving independence in one area, at least. When we’re done we’ll be able to process feed grown right here on our own land, with machinery we can either rent or own outright. That means work for more of us during the growing and harvesting seasons and then afterward, during the processing itself. With careful planning over the next two or three years we can increase the size of the herd substantially because we’ll have sufficient feed for wintering over. We won’t ever have to fear a repetition of what just happened.”

Abby felt her pulse race with excitement as she began to visualize the end result of today’s decision, if it was positive: a sea of cattle moving slowly as it grazed; pastures ripe with grain and hay and other feed crops; sheds and storage buildings filled with food and equipment; maybe even a real clinic and a bigger school. She focused on Cat again.

He had paused for a moment, looked around, seeing acceptance on most faces, doubts on a few others, defiance on a few more. For a moment he looked over the heads of his listeners, as if seeing a distant dream; then he turned back to them and continued thoughtfully. “There’s something else about this thing that appeals to me. You all know how we’ve fought off the mining and industrial interests who wanted to come in here in the name of progress and take whatever the land could give, leaving only destruction behind. My father saw that coming, as did old Chief Hawk and the other elders of our tribe. They knew that such development was wrong for us and our land, and they helped us fight.

“Well, I feel somehow that this is in line with what we’ve always wanted as a way of life here... simple, as traditional as we can keep it, close to nature. We’ll be caring for the land instead of destroying it. Each time we take something from it we’ll be giving something back.”

Someone rose and asked, “Do you think we can really trust this guy? I mean, look at what him and his friends did to the Lightfoot boy. That ain’t exactly a character reference you know.”

Cat ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well,” he drawled, “you’re right, of course. I’ve been thinking about that. And the thing is... the judge said Bridges has got to be on a year’s probation. So he’s gonna be on his best behavior. I don’t think he’ll pull anything funny. Also, I think it was a sincere offer to help. Maybe his way of making up for that whole mess.

“Now I know our white neighbors don’t have a very good track record--”

He was interrupted by a chorus of whistles, laughter and applause. Abby cringed at the force of the reaction, and for the first time since the meeting had begun felt out of place, as alien as she had on the day a lifetime ago when she’d first arrived in Twin Buttes.

“But someone whose opinions I value recently accused me of reverse prejudice,” Cat continued. “This person said we have a tendency to lump all whites into the same category, good and bad together.” Abby’s heart thumped as he repeated her words to his people. He continued. “So I’ve been thin
kin
g.. .every so often a white eyes comes along who becomes a real friend. My own father was one. Arthur Koehler’s another, and so’s the new teacher. Even that judge did a fair thing. Maybe this guy deserves a chance. If he proves out, we’ve got someone in that community who might speak up for us if we need it someday. If not, we’re still in good shape, because we’ve already been paid for any work we do. I don’t think we can lose this time.”

Abby waited silently as the Council moved to vote and realized that, finally, Cat was beginning to recognize the things she’d been trying to tell him. Too bad, she thought, that his acceptance had come too late for them. She listened to the vote: eight members in favor of the offer, two against.

Cat spoke once more. “I think the decision is a good one, and I hope that those who disagree right now will have good cause to change their minds in the near future. Now, I guess we should talk about volunteers for this job. Bridges said something about needing six men. Who’s for it?”

It didn’t take long to round up the necessary number. Then the meeting broke up, with the volunteers staying behind briefly to give their names to Cat, the rest making their way to their homes. As the place emptied Abby slipped out and breathed in the fresh, crisp winter air. Her mind spun as she relived the scene she’d just witnessed. Seeing him with his people, watching from the sidelines as he quietly, but deftly, guided them to a decision that could alter their future, had given her an insight she might otherwise never have acquired.

She marveled at the new awareness that gradually filtered through the jumble of thought: not that he didn’t love her, but that he loved his people more. I can understand that, she thought. That’s how I feel about my baby. She unconsciously placed a hand over her stomach. There were people to whom you owed unswerving loyalty, for whom your responsibility was so great that everything else came second. That was the choice he’d made, what he’d been trying to help her to recognize, what she’d known, but hadn’t wanted to accept. Seeing him as she just had finally made that acceptance possible.

“Abby?”

His voice broke through to her, and she looked up to find him standing before her. The sight of him stirred her, as always, and tears sprang to her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” She shook her head wordlessly, afraid to speak. “How long have you been here?” he asked.

She cleared her throat. “For a long time.”

“I didn’t see you.”

“I know.”

“I hope you weren’t offended by what was said. Those things weren’t meant for
--”

“White ears?” She smiled at him, and he smiled back. “I’m not offended. I’m glad I came.”

“Are you? Why?”

“This is a side of you that’s new to me, but one that explains a lot.”

They began walking toward her house beneath a cloudy gray sky that seemed to promise more snow. After a moment he stopped her, passing a hand down her arm and capturing her fingers in his. His touch was warm and strong, but gentle.