Walks the Fire (27 page)

Jesse had no time to reason it out or pray it through, but she knew what she would do. Gathering up her own quilt, she folded it deliberately and laid it on her bed.

“LisBeth,” she said, “get dressed. Gather up what you can. Roll it up into this quilt. Only enough to fit into the quilt, now. And don’t forget my Bible. Wait here until I come back.”

Something new in her mother’s voice prevented LisBeth’s usual barrage of childish questions. Mama was very serious tonight, and LisBeth nodded obediently and slipped out of bed, beginning to dress even as Jesse stepped outside.

Jesse’s moccasined feet padded noiselessly along the edge of the laundresses’ quarters. Feeling her way in the darkness, she stepped cautiously toward the storeroom where she knew Talks a Lot and the other warriors had been locked up.

There was no sign of Prairie Flower, but she knew that the daughter would not be far from her father’s prison. She prayed that Donovan’s drunkenness would prevent any further encounters. The man was loud and abusive and overly confident. Surely he would not be expecting an escape attempt tonight.

Jesse nearly tripped over the sleeping form of the guard who was supposed to be on duty. Reaching into the pocket of her apron, she felt the key and smiled grimly at the irony that of all the women in the fort, Gilda had chosen her to keep it.

“I know you don’t want the responsibility,” Gilda had said, when Jesse had tried to reject the key, “but the captain said that somebody ought to have an extra. And you’re the most dependable one on the place. So that’s it. You take the key and don’t lose it”

Dependable,
Jesse thought as she reached to unlock the door. The sleeping guard snorted and her heart lurched. But he only scratched his nose and settled back into slumber, snoring loudly.

Peeking out from around the corner of the storehouse, Jesse saw Prairie Flower. As the door to the storeroom inched open, a strong hand grabbed Jesse and jerked her inside. Another hand clutched her throat and began to squeeze. Jesse struggled noiselessly to tear the hand away, frantically signing “friend” over and over as she prayed that in the darkness someone would see the sign and save her from choking to death. There was a faint rustle and she sensed that she was surrounded by the small group of warriors who had been planning their escape.

Talks a Lot reached out to tear the hand from her throat. No spoken word was needed to communicate their plans. Furious signing went back and forth in the gloom of the storehouse interior. In seconds the warriors had slipped out of the storeroom, stepped soundlessly across the body of the drunken guard, and disappeared into the darkness. Only Talks a Lot remained. Prairie Flower came to his side. She signed to Jesse, “You come. Bring child.”

Jesse shook her head from side to side. Impulsively, she reached up to unclasp the gold cross that had hung about her neck for so many years. It had never left her, but she took it now and laid it in her friend’s palm, closing Prairie Flower’s long fingers about the metal and squeezing her hand.

Prairie Flower tried to refuse. This was the thing that had made Rides the Wind bring Jesse into the camp. Jesse had used it to tell her of a man who died long ago. She had said that the man came to life again. Prairie Flower doubted that, but she had seen that their belief in this man and in the strange book they read had created a strong bond between Rides the Wind and Walks the Fire. She had envied the bond between the two. But she had always refused to believe it for herself. It was only a nice story to tell about the campfire.

And now the cross, the only thing Walks the Fire still had from her time among the people, was being offered to Prairie Flower. In the feeble light, Jesse saw that Prairie Flower held the cross in one clenched hand as she crossed her wrists in front of her and brought them to her heart, signing “love.” Seconds after the gesture, Prairie Flower and Talks a Lot slipped away into the night.

Twenty-three

Great peace have they which love thy law.
—
Psalm 119:165

Jesse ran swiftly
back to her room to find LisBeth dressed, sitting obediently at the foot of her bed, the brown quilt rolled up at her side. Jesse checked only to see that her Bible was in the bedroll. Gripping LisBeth’s hand, she moved across the compound to the stables. A few horses stamped and snorted when the two entered, moving restlessly in their stall. Jesse whistled low, and they quieted to the familiar sound. From the far side of the row of stalls came a soft, welcoming nicker.

Quickly, Jesse saddled Red Star. She lifted LisBeth into the saddle and led the old mare out, running now, desperate to put the fort as far behind them as possible before the escape was discovered. They were far from the fort before Jesse spoke.

“LisBeth, Mama has done something you may not understand. But I had to do it. I have helped my friends escape, and now we must get away quickly before I am discovered. If we are caught, God will take care of us… but I am praying that we will not be caught. For some time, now, I have felt that we should leave the fort. I was considering whether we should go west with Mr. Wood when he returned. But I cannot wait for Mr. Wood. We must hurry tonight, and pray that God will protect us.”

LisBeth pondered her mother’s words before answering. Then, looking back over her shoulder she said, “I’m glad we’re leaving. I don’t like it there anymore. It’s too windy, and too dusty, and they don’t have trees. I want to go where there are trees and where we can have friends… and be like all the others.” She hesitated, then, and asked, “But, Mama,
where will we go?”

“To Dobytown,” came the reply.

“Dobytown?!”
LisBeth
had only heard stories about their destination, but still she could not imagine her mother ever consenting to set foot in the place.

Only two miles from the fort, Dobytown’s reputation had spread much farther. Inhabited largely by gamblers, lewd women, and criminals, Dobytown was shunned by the God-fearing and sought out by the sin-loving.

And that,
Jesse thought,
is exactly why we must go there.
No one at Fort Kearney would think to look for her there. First, they would search all the immigrant camps at the opposite side of the fort. It would buy them precious time and enable them to perhaps… well, Jesse didn’t have a plan beyond Dobytown, but she knew that their best opportunity to escape lay there.

“Lord,” Jesse said aloud. “Lord, we need your help. Please send us someone to help us get away. Make Donovan—and anyone else—go the other way.” She stopped, afraid to say much more, for her heart was beating fast, and the fear that she would be caught and separated from LisBeth was building.
If anything should happen to me, Lord,
she prayed silently,
what would become of LisBeth?

She wondered where the bravery that had helped the Indians escape was now. But was it bravery? As Red Star trotted across the open prairie, Jesse’s fatigue grew. LisBeth clutched her mother’s sides, and laid her head against her back.
What could I have been thinking? Jesse
wondered.
What a fool I’ve been.
And yet, she could not bring herself to regret helping her friends.

Be not afraid
…
Be not afraid…
The words came again, in rhythm with Red Star’s gait. The words echoed from the past, and, as always, reassured her. Jesse was able to pray again. Her thoughts turned again to LisBeth. Where, indeed, in this Nebraska territory, could a single woman make a life for her child? She needed schools, and churches, and friends. She needed a society that wasn’t divided between the “officers’ children” and “the others.”

Red Star stopped and snorted, staring straight ahead. Her tiny ears flicked forward and back, trying to catch a sound from the light ahead. With dismay, Jesse realized they had somehow missed Dobytown.

A man hunched over his fire. At the sound of Red Star’s snort, one of his horses whinnied. He rose quickly, grabbing the rifle that lay next to him. His deep voice boomed into the darkness, “Who goes there?”

When Jesse said nothing, the voice called out again. “Who goes there? And what business have ya’ in the night? If yer an honest man, speak up right now, or else my gun’ll be doin’ some talkin.’“

LisBeth had awakened and clutched her mother’s sides fearfully.

“Don’t shoot!” Jesse called out. “It’s a lone woman and her child. That’s all. Please, don’t shoot!”

The rifle came down off the shoulder. The voice called out again. “And how do I know yer tellin’ the truth, and yer not some good-fer-nothin’ from Dobytown, just plannin’ to rob and murder?”

“I promise by the Lord God who made heaven and earth, it’s only me and my daughter.”

“Then walk into the campfire where I can see ya’.”

Jesse urged Red Star forward where the man could look them over.

LisBeth clung to her mother, but whispered loudly. “Mama, that man is black!”

The man raised one eyebrow and looked down at his massive forearms. Stretching out one hand, he held it up in the firelight and examined it. “Well, I’ll be…” he exclaimed in mock surprise. “I shorely am! Now, how d’ya suppose that happened?” He grinned at LisBeth, and Jesse relaxed a little.

Then LisBeth answered, “My mama says God made people all colors so’s the world wouldn’t be dull. We know white folks, and we’ve got some brown friends, but we’ve never had black friends before. We’ve got to run away now, ’cause we helped our brown friends, and they might catch us and take my mama away.”

Jesse hushed LisBeth. “My daughter and I were headed for Dobytown. My name is Jesse King. My mare must have taken the wrong way and…”

The man grasped the crown of his hat and set it farther back on his head.
“Dobytown? What
you be lookin’ for
Dobytown
for? Dobytown’s no place for a woman and her child…”

“Yes, I know that… and under normal circumstances I’d never… but…”

“Somebody lookin’ fer you?”

“I’m not sure. But if they were…”

He interrupted. “But if they were, they wouldn’t be lookin’ in Dobytown. That it?”

Jesse wondered if God would have answered her prayer for help so quickly. She nodded. “Exactly.”

“Who’re these ‘brown people’ you been helpin’?”

“Lakota. At the fort. Friends of mine. I unlocked the room they were held in and helped them get away.”

The man added, “Then
you
best be gettin’ away too.” Approaching Red Star, he turned his attention to LisBeth. “You hungry, little lady? Help yourself. Shot a rabbit earlier. They’s a few pieces left in that skillet by the fire.” He lifted LisBeth down, and for some reason Jesse did not move to resist. She climbed down and stood holding the reins as Lisbeth scampered to the fire.

“Seem to have forgot my manners, ma’am,” he said. “Name’s Joseph Freeman. I’m a blacksmith. Been workin’ over to Dobytown fer some weeks, now. But I’m leavin’. Sick of the swearin’ and carryin’ on. Ain’t no place for a man who… well, who cares about the things of the Lord and all. They’s a new town bein’ started up near the Salt Creek. Name of Lancaster. Figure every good town needs a blacksmith. Guess I’ll settle there a while and see how I like it.”

All the while he talked, he was leading Jesse to the fireside, helping her settle onto the ground, unsaddling Red Star, rubbing her down, checking her feet with sure hands before he hobbled her with an extra set of hobbles he fetched from his wagon.

His voice was pleasant, and Jesse settled comfortably near the fire as an inexplicable peace settled over her.

Joseph Freeman rambled on about his plans. “They’s a widow there, Miz Augusta Hathaway. That Miz Hathaway, she’s a real good woman. A real Christian woman. Never heard nothin’ but a kind word about her. Folks say that new town’ll be growin’ fast. Sure Miz Hathaway’ll help you get settled. You got no objections to ridin’ with a colored man, I’ll be happy to have you come along. It just ain’t right for you to go into Dobytown. No, ma’am… it just ain’t right.”

Freeman stopped short. The woman was asleep. Her child lay at her side, cuddled into the crook of her mother’s body on the ground.

“Man alive, Joseph… when you goin’ to learn to shut up? You done talked this woman to sleep!” He smiled at himself, and withdrew his bedroll to a respectful distance from the campfire. Unrolling the woman’s quilt to cover her, he dropped her worn Bible into the dust. He picked it up, wiped it off, and set it where the woman would see it as soon as she woke.

Jesse and LisBeth woke the next morning to the aroma of coffee boiling and biscuits baking. LisBeth was quick to exclaim over their new friend’s kindness. Freeman accepted her chattering good-naturedly and explained to Jesse, “You-all fell to sleepin’ so quick last night, I didn’t think you’d mind if I covered the girl up. The Bible fell outta’ the bedroll, ma’am. I sure hope it didn’t come to any harm.”

Jesse picked up the Bible and rubbed her stiff neck. “It’s fine, Mr. Freeman. Thank you for your kindness.”

Freeman offered her coffee and as she took the steaming cup he said, “If you don’t mind, ma’am, I’d sure love to hear a few words from that book. That is, if you don’t mind.”