T'on Ma (32 page)

"It's close to sundown," Christina said when she finally let go of Nathan, needing to find something to do. "I'll start supper." Walking behind May, she kissed her mother-in-law on her head and then went to the kitchen counter. Joshua scooted his chair closer to his wife and put his arm around her shoulders.

Nathan stood up and walked to the front door. "I'm going out. I've got something to do."

"Don't be long. Supper will be ready soon," Christina told him.

"I'm not hungry." Stepping outside, he walked to the barn to get a shovel.

As he left the barn, Liam approached him. "What are you going to do?" he asked as he looked at the shovel in Nathan's hand.

"I'm going to take care of my sister."

"If you've got another shovel, I want to help."

Nathan nodded and returned in a few seconds with one, handing it to Liam. The two young men walked away from the house and down the riverbank.

"Here. Right here," Nathan said after they'd walked a short distance. "She used to come to this spot and sit under these trees to think and to read."

"All right." Taking off his shirt, Liam walked to a high spot and began digging. Nathan began digging about six feet away. It was well past dark when they returned to the house, hot, sweaty, dirty, tired. When they sat at the table, Paul handed them each a glass of whiskey.

"We've dug the grave," Nathan announced just before he gulped his down.

"Good," Joshua nodded. "We'll bury her in the morning." May sat in her rocking chair, staring unfocused into the fire. The gentle wish-swish, wish-swish of the rocker was the only sound she made.

"Oh, I've brought her things, too," Liam broke the silence. "Maybe Ma and Christina can make use of some of them."

"All right." Christina stood up. "Where are they? I'll go get them."

"No. I will." Liam finished his whiskey and went back outside. When he walked into the dark barn, he went to the wagon seat, reaching under it for her things. When he straightened, his eyes locked on the casket. He stayed there for a long time, thinking.

"Honey," he whispered. "You're home now. Your brother and I have got you all fixed up by your favorite place next to the river. I finally got your letter to them, just like I promised. And Ma has your wedding ring. I thought maybe that's what you'd want. And now, I'm taking in your things hoping they can use them. I can't keep them around me. I'll lose my mind if I do." Reaching out, he touched the edge of the casket. "I miss you so much, Lana. I wish it had been me instead of you. How am I supposed to go on now? How?" Liam looked around in the darkness. For what - he didn't know. "Bringing you here was hard," he continued. "But at least you were with me. I don't know how I'm going to make myself leave. You'll be here. My heart will be here. My life will be here."

When he didn't come back, Joshua went looking for Liam and heard the last part of Liam's words. When Joshua touched him on the shoulder, Liam whirled around and then held on to Joshua, crying, not like a baby, but as only a grown man can cry in the face of unbearable grief. Joshua understood and let him.

The next morning brought a hint of the coming fall. The Texas sky was deep blue and wide open. Joshua stood at the head of the grave, the family Bible in his hand. A Psalm was read, a prayer said, a hymn sung, tears shed. When the grave was filled, Joshua set up a crudely-made cross. May laid what flowers she could find beneath it. There was nothing left to do but go back to the house.

Liam refused to stay. "I've got to get back. I leave for Boston very soon, and I have a lot to do before I go."

"Yeah, Boston." Joshua looked somberly at Liam. "I suppose you won't be back this way, then."

"Probably not. Not with my family in Georgia."

"Well, then, this is goodbye for real." Joshua extended his hand. Liam shook it and then hugged Joshua.

"I loved her with everything I had," he said quietly, so that only Joshua heard him.

"I know you did, son. I know." Patting his back once, Joshua stepped away to let the others say their goodbyes. In a short time, Liam was back on the wagon headed east to a life he no longer cared to live.

Whether by chance or by fate, three days later, Nathan ran across Two Hawks while he was out hunting.

"Nathan! How is it with you?" Two Hawks asked as he prodded his horse nearer.

"Centas Yi." Nathan hadn't thought of the Kiowa for a long time.

"How is your wife?" the warrior asked.

"She's fine." Nathan studied him for a moment and then decided he had a right to know. "I have some bad news, though."

"Bad? What?"

"Lana is dead."

"What?
What happened?" Two Hawks didn't believe him.

Nathan told him the story and ended with, "We buried her by the river just a few days ago. Come with me and see."

Two Hawks followed Nathan for several minutes before they came to her grave. She was buried underneath the very trees where they had spent many delightful Sunday afternoons, where they had almost made love that last spring morning. Sliding off his horse, Two Hawks walked slowly to the grave, his disbelief turning to pain. Looking up at Nathan, he could see the sorrow there. This was true, then. A heavy monster suddenly sat on his chest, not allowing him to speak. Nodding once, he jumped back on his horse and rode away without a word.

Somewhere between her grave and his village, Two Hawks' world shattered. Instead of going home, he turned his horse west and rode for several hours before he stopped. Hobbling his horse, he sat on the ground - motionless - waiting.

Even though T'on Ma was married, she loved him. Only him. His love for her was so fierce that it consumed him. He counted on that to bring them together one day. Now that there was no possibility of having her in his life, he was devastated.

As he sat in the prairie grass, he felt the numbness wear away, replaced by pain that grew in its intensity. With his arms wrapped tightly across his chest, Two Hawks rocked back and forth, keening. The pain stayed, bringing with it anger.

Two Hawks fought with the anger throughout the night, tearing at the earth with his knife, shouting at the sky with his threats. As the morning sun rose, he finally fell exhausted to the ground and slept. When he awoke late that afternoon, the anger was gone, but in its place was a sorrow so deep that he couldn't stop the gulping sobs that wrenched his body. T'on Ma was his! They had a future together. Who had stolen it?
Why?

Three days later, he rode into his camp. Putting his horse with the remuda, he went to his mother's tipi. "I'm back," he announced lifelessly.

"Good." Gray Dove looked up from her work. "Where have you been?"

"With the dead." He offered no further explanation.

Studying his face, she knew better than to ask what that meant. Something had broken his spirit. Perhaps, in time, he would tell her what that was.

Something hurt her eyes. And someone wouldn't quit moaning. Why wouldn't they be quiet? Didn't they know she didn't feel well? Lana slowly squinted against the sun. There was that moan again! Wait. That was
her.
What was going on? She tried to sit up, but fell back unconscious.

Much later - hours? - days? - something tickled her ear. Moving her hand to swat it away, she rolled over onto her side, gasping from sharp pain as she did. Lana opened her eyes to darkness. Confused, she tried to get her bearings. Something moved beside her. Carefully turning her head, she saw a coyote pacing close by.

"Shoo! Shoo!" she whispered weakly and then grimaced. Even that hurt. Rolling onto her stomach, she lifted her head to look around. Lana remembered riding in a wagon. It sat to one side, busted into six large pieces. The team of horses lay at odd angles in their traces. That couldn't be good.

Looking to her left, she saw a bare foot. Crawling the short distance to it, she pushed back the busted suitcases and scattered clothes to find Nan lying underneath the rubble, dead. The flying debris had bashed in her face and crushed her chest. Lana turned away, retching. Peering into the darkness, she saw the two soldiers, also lying too still to be alive.

Lana crawled away from the macabre scene and slowly, painfully, sat up. Checking herself, she wondered if she didn't have broken ribs. She knew she was badly bruised and her face bloody. How long had she lain there? She didn't know. Exhausted, she fell into a deep sleep beside the river as it ran along, oblivious to the human tragedy on its shore.

The wounded woman awoke several hours later to find the sun up and not a storm cloud in sight. Thirsty, she made a wide path around the wagon and got a drink. As she stood, gasping against the fierce pain in her side, her first thought was to get help. But help from where? She didn't even know where she was.

Then she thought of the small settlement they had passed just before they picked up Nan. Making up her mind to go there, Lana tried to climb the embankment, but it was too steep. It seemed to take hours before she finally reached a place where she could climb out. After emerging at the top, she couldn't see any road. Getting her bearings from the sun, she set out west, each halting step agony.

Lana passed out - again - from pain and hunger and exhaustion. When she came to, she was bouncing roughly on a travois as it made its way across the uneven ground. Squinting her eyes against the sun, she looked to her right. An old woman walked beside her. Behind Lana rode a mounted warrior; to her left lay open prairie and rolling hills.

Studying the woman, Lana realized that she wasn't with Kiowa, but she didn't know who they were. She was too far west for them to be Caddo and too far east for them to Apache. Kickapoo? Comanche?

"Water," she said in English. The woman glanced at her once but kept walking. "T'on," she said in Kiowa. Again, the old woman did nothing. Using sign language, Lana told of her thirst. This time, the woman frowned at her and shook her head.

The warrior behind her watched and, when the old woman walked ahead, he tossed Lana his flask. It hit her in the chest, sending sharp spasms of pain across her. But, grateful, she drank enough water to ease her parched throat. When she finished, he rode up beside her and reached down for his flask.

"Thank you," she smiled. Making no response, he simply fell into line behind her travois.

The band of ten Kickapoo warriors, fifteen women and seventeen children traveled for six days in a northwesterly direction. The children would often walk beside the travois to stare silently at the strange woman with blue eyes. Lana tried to befriend them, but before she could make any progress, a nervous mother would grab their hands and hurry them away, or a warrior on horseback would chase the child to its mother.

By the middle of the seventh day, the band reached their destination. Runners had come through their village many weeks before, announcing a powwow of many tribes - Apache, Kiowa, Kickapoo, Comanche. They had learned that the new forts built the year before were going to be joined by another long line of forts cutting through their lands yet again. This would bring more soldiers, more settlers. Something had to be done.

The Kickapoo band had gotten there early, hoping to get a choice spot to set up their camp. This would also give them plenty of time to catch up with news from distant relatives and old friends. As the week went on, more and more bands of various tribes arrived until the encampment looked like someone had scattered pebbles all around, with no rhyme or reason to how things were set up. That wasn't entirely true, though. Camp organizers stayed busy directing new arrivals to their appropriate locations. Each band set up camp next to others of their tribe, lodge openings facing east. Barking dogs and laughing, yelling children played between the tipis, around the horses and through groups of adults, adding their own touch to the already chaotic scene.

Lana's captors carried her into a tipi. The painful travois no longer had to be endured. From what she could figure out, the tipi belonged to the daughter of the old woman. The daughter's husband, Leaf That Falls, had pulled Lana's travois.

Leaf That Falls wasn't quite sure what to do with the white woman, but when he found her lying in the middle of nowhere, unconscious, hurt, and alone, he decided to bring her along. Perhaps he could trade her for horses or, better yet, a rifle, at this large gathering.

They had been there several days when Leaf That Falls noticed a new band arriving. As he watched them ride by in a long line, he recognized some of the warriors. Once they got their camp set up, he decided he would visit them.

Before the supper fires were started, Leaf That Falls went to the newest camp and walked over to one of the men. "Dark Fist, it's good to see you again."

Dark Fist looked up from the person he was talking with. "And you, too. How are you?"

"Doing well. Looking forward to this meeting. Almost everyone is here now, so it should start in the next day or two."

"Good. There is much we need to talk about."

"Yes, there is."

"Too many whites are moving in. Too many soldiers." Dark Fist frowned.

"Speaking of whites," Leaf That Falls crossed his arms, "I found one all by herself a few days ago, badly hurt."

"Oh, really? How did you kill her?" Dark Fist laughed. Leaf That Falls was notoriously squeamish, even among other tribes, about such things.

"I didn't kill her. I brought her here. I'm hoping to trade her."

"Is she skinny? If she's skinny
and
hurt, you won't get much for her," Dark Fist teased.

"Maybe. Maybe not," Leaf That Falls defended himself. "She's got blue eyes."

Dark Fist's head snapped around at that. "Blue eyes?"

"Yes."

"And she's here with you now?"

"Yes. In my tipi."

"Show me."

Dark Fist followed his host across the large site and into his tipi. When Dark Fist entered, even in the poor lighting, he knew it was Lana.

"You!" he pointed at her. "You won't get away so easily this time."