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  Harrison gave her a quick wink. “All right, just be careful and promise me you’ll go back inside if any trouble starts.”

  She nodded. He was a nice boy but much too young, and he had nothing to offer her but himself and poverty, and she wanted neither. Maybe he’d be a good husband for Caroline, but not for her. “I promise.”

  Harrison gave her a grin of acceptance, then headed down to join some of the other boys his age who had gathered across the street from the confrontation.

  Her heart clenched with sadness. How she wished David could have lived to see the Kansas prairie. He’d wanted so much to come to this territory. Too bad he’d never had that opportunity. Although at times she seemed ungrateful, she knew if it were not for her parents’ willingness to take on the responsibility of a widowed daughter with a new baby, she would’ve been left behind with her father’s sister. For that, she’d always be grateful. Life with her stern, maiden aunt would have been intolerable. If only there were some way she could repay her parents for all they’d done for her and her son.

  As the voices of the Indian leader and Thomas Ward rose to an angry pitch, she strained to keep up with the words hastily being shouted by the interpreter.

  “You sent for these two horses, which my boys stole from a Mexican trader,” he told them as he translated the leader’s words to the crowd. “You sent word that we must not only give up the horses, but we must turn over to you the two men who stole the horses, that your people might punish them.” The leader’s bony finger pointed menacingly toward the white man as he spoke.

  Thomas Ward stood motionless and waited as he listened to what Mr. Claude Egan said as he acted as interpreter.

  “The horses you can have, but the men you cannot have without a fight,” Mr. Egan interpreted to the assembled group with exaggerated motions. “That’s what he said.”

  “Who is he?” a woman asked a man standing beside her. “Is he the chief?”

  He shrugged. “If you ask me, he’s nuthin’ but a troublemaker.”

  Juliette shuddered. It was common knowledge the Indians were not happy with the land settlement they’d been given by the government, and their discontent seemed to grow stronger with each passing day. Although the Indians were basically friendly, they would occasionally steal the settlers’ horses and whatever else they could get their hands on if they thought they could do so without detection. The stealing of another man’s horses was not taken lightly. A man could be hanged for such a crime.

  Although she knew she should be heading back inside the hotel, she lingered long enough to see Thomas Ward’s reaction to the Indian’s statement. It appeared Mr. Ward was controlling himself as best he could. She’d heard he’d had many dealings with the Indians, and he seemed to know better than anyone how to handle them. But since the Indians had apparently come prepared to have a showdown, it appeared they had the advantage. Fear gripped her heart as she thought of her son, so young, so innocent, so undeserving of what might happen if an agreement couldn’t be reached.

  For some time, Mr. Ward stood silently, making no comment to Blue Feather’s statement as the crowd waited for his response.

  Juliette crossed her arms over her chest protectively and hunched her shoulders. What if the Indians decide to attack? There were so few men living in Dove City. Most of the men of the area were either farmers or ranchers and only came to town when they needed to make a purchase, have horses shod, or to attend church or a funeral. Some came to spend their time and hard-earned money in the noisy saloon.

  She and the other onlookers stared in fear as Blue Feather and his followers began to taunt and insult the settlers.

  Through the interpreter, she heard the Indian leader tell Thomas Ward and the others they had no business meddling with things that did not concern them. Not concern us? When we’re trying to live peaceably with the Kaw Indians? Of course, we’re concerned, she reasoned uneasily.

  Mr. Ward continued to listen, his fists clenched at his sides as if he were struggling for control, as everyone watched for his reaction to the Indian’s accusing words. He turned slowly to his clerk, who was cowering beside him, his face a sickly pallor, and loudly instructed him to bring two revolvers from his store.

  Juliette and the others who remained watched spellbound, their hearts filled with fear as the clerk arrived with the guns and handed them to Thomas Ward one at a time. Slowly, he glanced around at the small crowd of citizens as if to assure them he was doing the right thing. His glance roved back to the Indians, now menacingly scattered about the area. Then back to Blue Feather. Everyone held their breath as he slowly lifted the two guns.

  Boom! Boom! He fired two shots into the air as he glared at the leader, his eyes fixed on the man’s painted face.

  “Why’d he do that?” the woman asked as she buried her face in her companion’s chest.

  Juliette wondered the same thing. What is his purpose? There’s no way Mr. Ward can take on that large band of Indians with only two revolvers.

  “I’m sure it was to scare the Indians and show them he means business,” the man explained as he stroked his wife’s shoulder reassuringly. “But the main reason was to warn the settlers to get armed and be ready for whatever might occur.”

  Of course, Juliette thought as she searched the crowd for her father. He did it to alert the settlers who aren’t here. Word of the shots will spread rapidly, and men will drop whatever they’re doing and come to help. I should have realized Mr. Ward would never do anything to jeopardize our lives.

  “Are they going to attack us?” the woman asked, her teary eyes filled with fright.

  “Umm, I think they’re only trying to outfox Ward,” the man explained, never taking his gaze from the scene.

  One of the warriors moved quickly to the front of the crowd, allowing his horse to trample those in his path. He lifted his bow in the air and let out a war cry that chilled Juliette’s bones. It appeared he was taking it upon himself to lead his red brothers into battle, disregarding Blue Feather and his followers. As his horse whinnied and stood on its hind legs, the man ordered in his native tongue with Claude Egan translating, “Ward is shooting at us. Shoot him!”

  With fear etched on their faces, the crowd of frantic men and women began rushing past Juliette as they struggled to escape the threat. She knew she should leave, but she was frozen to the spot, needing to know what happened. Once more, she pressed herself against the building, her eyes wide with terror, her heart thundering against her chest, her attention riveted on Thomas Ward. But to her amazement, he simply shrugged, turned his back on the aggressors, and moved into his store, shutting the door securely behind him.

  Her glance flitted quickly toward where her father had been standing with Reuben, but they were nowhere in sight. Although she was relieved, she was also concerned. Her father knew almost nothing of the ways of the Indians or how they conducted their wars. He’d never been called upon during their time in Ohio to bear arms against anyone. He was a kind and gentle man with peaceful ways. Though he’d owned several guns, she’d never seen him use them. Yet, she knew if it became necessary, her father would take up arms and do all he could to protect his family. Oh, Father, where are you?

  It was then she spotted them. Harrison had joined them, and the three had moved up directly behind where Mr. Ward had been standing. She was even more concerned for their safety. There was a fourth man she could barely make out in the swirling dust from the horses’ hooves. It was Stone Piper, and she found herself concerned for his safety as well.

  Some of the young bloods among the Indian band, those who seemed more restless than the others and eager to do battle, fired their guns. Charles Stark, the owner of the hotel her father managed, received a well-aimed arrow in the lower part of his neck.

  Juliette gasped and watched in horror as the bleeding man twisted and fell to the ground. Never had she seen death happen so quickly. Her stomach lurched, and she thought she was going to be sick.

  Another ma
n she recognized as Mr. Morgan tried to cross the street. He was hit by one of the Indian’s bullets, fell close to Mr. Stark, and lay motionless in a widening circle of his own blood.

  Everything happened so fast. Shouted threats. Arrows. Gunshots. Screaming Indians. Horses rearing. People fleeing for their very lives. Never would she have believed this sort of confrontation possible in the quiet, friendly town they’d settled in only months before. She wanted to run to Mr. Morgan in the street to see if he was still alive, if he could be helped. But that was impossible. As she neared the safety of the hotel and pushed her way toward the doorway, she breathed a quick prayer of thanks. But as she was about to enter, Juliette turned to listen as she heard the terrified voice of the interpreter.

  He was calling out loudly to the Indians in a vengeful tone that resonated through the emptying street as he pointed his long, slender finger at Blue Feather. “Your people have killed one man, maybe two. Get out of this town. Now!”

  Blue Feather lifted his spear, and with a shout that echoed against the buildings, he led the band back up Main Street, leaving enough dust behind to choke the breath out of those still standing in the street.

  “What? Tell me!” Caroline screamed as Juliette appeared in the doorway. “Did someone die?”

  All strength drained from Juliette’s body as she snatched her precious Andrew from his sleeping place, her eyes widened from the deaths she’d just witnessed. As she cradled her son to her breast, she lifted a tear-stained face to her sister. “Oh, Caroline, what’s to become of us?”

  Two

  Juliette and Caroline kept vigil at the window. Three long hours passed before her father and Reuben returned to the hotel lobby. Their faces told the story. Things did not look good.

  “John, what happened to you? We were so worried!” Juliette’s mother made her way to her husband and rested her head on his chest. “Juliette said Charles Stark was shot.”

  Her father sent a quick, accusing glare at Juliette, and she knew he would have preferred to tell his frail wife about Charles Stark’s death himself.

  “His death was quick. He didn’t suffer.” He cradled his wife’s head in his big hand and stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “We’ll all miss him.”

  Her mother began to weep. “He has such a lovely family. How will they ever get along without him?”

  “I don’t know. Charles was a good man.”

  “What about the other man, Father?” Caroline asked.

  “I don’t know about the other man.”

  “Where have you been all this time? Surely you weren’t out in the street when all this happened, were you?” her mother asked as she lifted her face and lovingly wiped a smear of dirt from his cheek. “The children and I were—”

  “I know. I never meant to worry you. I should’ve sent word back with Juliette.” He sent a frown Juliette’s way, and she knew he’d seen her in the street after he’d ordered her back inside.

  “Reuben and Harrison and I were with Deputy Piper and the other men. After the Indians left, we checked out the high ground south of Elm Creek, where the tribe had been camped.”

  “Did you find them?” Caroline asked. “Were they still wearing their war paint?”

  “No, we didn’t find them. We’re assembling a council to determine what to do next. There weren’t enough men in town to offer much resistance. I’m afraid the Indians knew it. We must thank God they left without causing further death or damage.”

  Juliette watched as her father once again forced a confident smile. “A call has gone out to those who live around here as well as the neighboring counties. We’ve asked all who can to hasten to Dove City as soon as possible.” He swallowed hard, then added, “Prepared to fight.”

  Tears rolled down her mother’s cheeks as she grasped his shirt. “Oh, John. No, not you. You’re not a soldier. You must stay here at the hotel with us. We need you.”

  He lowered his head, his eyes focused on his wife. “The vote was unanimous. As men, we must protect our families.”

  Her mother drew in a deep breath and burst into tears as the rest of the family stood by silently, sickened by their father’s words. “Oh, John. No. Not war.”

  He nodded as he once again began to stroke his wife’s hair. “War seems inevitable. The sheriff’s taking care of some trouble over at Heaton. But Deputy Piper is a good man, and the Indians seem to respect him. He’ll lead us, and Egan is coming along as our interpreter. They’re good, honest men, and both have had experience in dealing with the Indians. They don’t want war any more than the rest of us. But, Mary, we have to make a stand.”

  Her grasp on his shirt tightened. “If you wait until tomorrow, more of the men can join you, and it won’t be so dangerous. Please, John. Wait.”

  Lovingly, he pried her fingers away and pulled her into the shelter of his arms. “We can’t wait, Mary,” he said resolutely, his chin held high. “They might attack. Both Thomas Ward and Egan agree with Stone Piper.”

  Juliette stepped around the pallet and caught hold of her father’s arm. “But why, Father? You said the Indians were gone.”

  “From what Deputy Piper said, we need to go out to scout their move. Perhaps they’ve only gone as far as Dry Bed Creek. That’s too close for the comfort of the good people of Dove City.”

  With a heavy sigh, her mother leaned forward and took Stella from Caroline’s arms.

  Juliette watched as her father smiled, then chucked the baby under her chin as he continued, his face sobering. “The council believes if the Kaws are allowed to go unpunished for the outrage they’ve committed, there’ll be no safety for any of us.”

  “You’re going to follow them?” her mother asked as she hugged her baby, tears again trickling down her cheeks.

  He didn’t have to tell them. The answer was written on his weary face. “Pray for me, Mary. Please, pray for me like you’ve never prayed. If we’ve ever needed God’s help, it’s now.”

  ❧

  “I’ve never been to war before,” John Baker confided to Stone as they rode along. The heavy dust their horses kicked up dried their throats. “I’m not sure if I could shoot a man, even if he was a renegade Indian.”

  Stone shifted his weight in the well-worn saddle, his gaze intent on the trail stretching out before him. “Oh, you’d shoot him all right, John, if you had to. If it was your life or his or if he meant harm to one of your loved ones.” He shielded his eyes and peered off in the distance toward a heavy clump of trees that could easily hide a warring band of Indians.

  “Could you do it?”

  Stone pushed his hat off his brow and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Only if I had to.” A bird sounded a mournful cry, and both men turned in its direction, listening carefully before resuming their conversation. They feared the whistle might not be a bird’s, but an Indian’s. A pair of rabbits leaped from their hiding place in the tall grass and scurried across the trail in front of them. “I pray to God I won’t be faced with that decision.”

  They rode along in silence, the drumming of forty sets of horses’ hooves beating down the prairie grasses the only sound. None of the riders seemed to have much to say as each kept his eyes trained dead ahead toward Dry Bed Creek, which lay off in the distance beyond the dense grove of trees.

  Stone took in a deep breath of the warm morning air. “Those redskins could be watching us right now.”

  “You know the Indians better than I do.” John shrugged and tightened the grip on his reins.

  He didn’t want to say anything to John, but he was concerned about the womenfolk and children they’d left behind in Dove City. Undoubtedly, the Indians knew their number and could, if they were of a mind to, send some braves back into town to— He didn’t even want to think what they might do. “Long enough to know you can’t trust most of these Indians. I can’t say that I blame them much.”

  “Oh?” John’s brows rose in question.

  “Not the way the government handled the land acquis
itions. The Indians think they got a raw deal. Sometimes I’m inclined to agree with them.”

  John frowned. “But does that give them the right to take what they want? Even kill?”

  Stone shook his head and spat on the ground. “Course not. But those Kaws didn’t want to come here in the first place. They’d have rather stayed near Topeka, along the Kansas River. It was the government’s idea to bring them to Dove City, even promised the Indians the choice land along the upper valley of the Neosho River, where the tall timber grows.”

  “You’d have thought they’d have been happy with that,” John reasoned aloud. “Good land and abundant water. What more could they ask?”

  “Oh, that’s what they were promised but not what they got. Too many problems with some messed-up survey, and a lot of the settlers homesteaded on Indian lands by mistake.” Stone ordered a halt. The troop of inexperienced would-be soldiers stopped abruptly. Everyone peered off into the distance at the approaching band of riders.

  Stone glanced over his shoulder as his hand moved instinctively to the holster mounted at his side. “Kaws. Keep your peace, men,” he called out to his troops. “We don’t want to anger them.”

  Forty men sat straddling their horses as fear shone in forty sets of eyes.

  The Indians began to circle them, posting themselves to the best advantage—tantalizing the men, goading them, and beckoning them to come on and fight.

  “I’d like to shoot that miserable—” one of the riders positioned next to Stone told him under his breath just loud enough for those closest to him to hear.

  Stone remained motionless but cautioned, “Don’t even think it. They want us to start something. These Indians have been trained from boyhood to fight. We wouldn’t stand a chance. One move from us, and it’s all over. Keep your peace, Man. Keep your peace.”

  The man settled himself back into his saddle and said nothing more. Apparently Stone’s message had brought him to his senses.