~ Crossing Nebraska ~

by

Kay Bailey

Horse Rider led his horse to the water of Little Blue. His friends had left him alone in his thoughts. Laughing Wolf and Many Horses were as curious about the white travelers as his young nephew, Young Hawk. They had seen white people with their wagons before, but their numbers grew stronger by the day.

What changes would these whites bring to the land?

Many times they spoke of it in his sister’s house. Victory Call cared for many who slept in her home. A man ate and slept in the house of his mother or sister until he took a wife. Horse Rider had no wife or mother so he dwelled with his sister. He was much grateful for her cooking and provided for her as his own. Before moving to their sleeping areas, they ate food the women had cooked.

Grandmother sometimes asked, “When will their coming stop? When hills and valleys are filled with bones of Pa’ni? When Mother corn lies trampled by the white man’s feet? When?”

His father spoke firmly. “Atira, my mother, our people grow strong like buffalo. We will be strong even in the tomorrows.”

Grandmother would only shake her head.

Horse Rider knew like his grandmother that the buffalo were not growing strong. The many that once roamed the land were not anymore. He looked at the open land, the quick running river, the prairie that stretched farther than his eyes could see. What would happen to his people’s freedom? Would they be forced to live in a smaller area or be wiped out along with the buffalo? Some of the men from his tribe had been farther east, past the Mississippi. They had seen the many white men and their buildings that hid the land. Was that the future for this land too?

He brushed those thoughts aside for the moment. Something had roused his curiosity. A white woman was dashing towards the river. A strange tremor of anticipation stirred in him. He pulled his horse into the cover of short cottonwoods. Crouching, he watched from a distance.

~ * ~

A smile grew on Maggie’s face. She had hope after watching Travis dance with Jane Starks last night. And the smile that Jane sent taunting toward Maggie this morning told her the girl had enjoyed her time with Travis.

The caravan had made camp after many hours of walking and riding. During the normal chaos of circling and hitching the wagons, Maggie got lost. On purpose. She thought that if they didn’t notice, she might be able to slip out of sight for a bath. The Little Blue was nearby. She heard the gurgling for miles and smelled the scent of water. A splash of water would feel so good.

She grabbed a jug, thinking she could always claim to be getting water. Bill would be angry with her for being so far away from the wagons, but all she’d thought of was the feel of the water. It would be hours before the group refilled their supplies. She stepped out of the pathway of the wagons. There was enough brush for cover and even a few scrub trees. She snuck towards the river, looking back to check her progress. So far, so good. She felt so alive. Excited for the first time in days. Tingling all the way to her toes.

She made it to the edge. There were cottonwoods and willows draped overhead. It was nice to be away from the others. She almost moaned aloud, anticipating the cool water. The days had been hot. And her feet burned.

Slipping off her shoes she stepped from the grassy edges, oohing and aahing, as she sunk her feet and legs into the coolness. Muddy and deep enough to get good and sloppy wet. She delighted in the cool mud under her feet. It oozed between her toes. Her feet took her deeper; waist high in water with a sopping wet dress, she felt contented at last.

A chill skipped up her spine. Someone was there. Were they watching her? She glanced around.

Oh well. Maybe she could rinse some of the dirt out of her hair. She wished she’d brought soap. That would be heaven. Crouching, she submersed her head, then came up and wiped her eyes. Had she heard something?

Yes, there it was again, the crunch of twigs under a booted foot.

Maggie looked up. And groaned under her breath.

“Hi there Miss Maggie. I’ve been looking for you.”

“Uh-h, what are you doing here?” Caught. And by Travis.

“I was just making sure you didn’t get lost or scalped by any of them savages.”

“I’m well. You can go now. See, the scalp is still attached.” She made a shooing motion. “I was just here getting some water.” She pointed toward the jug. “We’re out and had to borrow water from the preacher’s family.”

“Miss Maggie, I’ve been wanting to talk to you. You act like you’re scared of me.”

“I--I’m not.”

Travis smiled at her. “Good, then you won’t mind if I get in the water with you.”

“No,” she almost shouted it. “I mean, no I don’t want you in the water with me.”

“Well then, I’ll just sit right here and enjoy the view. Keep you company.” He backed against a tree and slid his body down until he was seated on the grass. With one booted leg bent and the other outstretched, he took out the makings of a smoke from his vest pocket.

Maggie glanced up at him, trying not to look as nervous as she felt. He looked like he was rooting into the ground. “Travis, I told you I’m fine. Don’t you need to care for the horses or something? Why don’t you go back to the wagons?”

He just looked at her, shaking his head. He unrolled the paper. While holding it in one hand, with his other he tapped the can, distributing a thin line of tobacco on the paper. Replacing the cap on the can, he returned it to his pocket. He rolled it and lit it with a match.

“When we get to Oregon Territory...” His voice faded in and out of her consciousness. “...you’ll learn to love me.”

Time passed slowly as she stood there, her stomach churning, realizing how vulnerable she had made herself. Alone and wet. If she stood now her clothes would cling to her curves.

“Well Miss Maggie, you sure are poor company.” He stood up and crushed the smoke under his boot.

Maggie looked up at him and realized that she’d been standing still the entire time while he smoked. Just standing there clutching her skirt.

Travis motioned toward the wagons. “Emma’s looking for you.” He brushed the debris from his pants then disappeared into the brush.

The water weighed her down as she pulled her feet from the gooey mud. The delight was gone. Her drenched skirt sloshed water down her legs and onto the ground. She shivered. Was she cold or was it just the creepy feeling Travis left with her? She couldn’t go back yet. Her rattled emotions needed to settle. She sat down and placed her head on her knees.

A horse snorted. She looked up suddenly. The sound was on the wrong side of the river to be Bill, and Travis wouldn’t come back if Emma was coming like he’d said. Maggie stood and walked closer to the river, into the clearing, to where she could get a glimpse. Her behavior reminded her of a nervous cat, cautious, but too curious to stay away. Her heart made a loud thumping in her chest.

Across the river stood an Indian, watering his horse. Did he see her? She crept past the small holly bush. His hair blew freely about his bare shoulders. His legs were covered in tan hides and banded at the thighs with strips of leather. Sunlight reflected on metal that hung around his neck.

The horse was dappled gray, its color like a storm cloud ready to spill open. Not the painted pony she would have imagined. The Indian cupped water in his hands, splashed it on the horse’s back, and let it roll down its sides. He rubbed his hands along the ribcage and down the flanks making its fur glisten. The Indian turned in her direction.

Their eyes met. The breath seemed to leave her lungs. Then he turned and spoke to his horse. She wanted to say “Hello” or something, but her throat closed up. He then led the horse deeper into the water and bent down to cup more water. He was talking to the horse in a quiet voice. The horse responded by shaking its head and snorting. The Indian laughed.

All Maggie could do was stare. Stand there and stare at his copper skin. His muscled back. She wanted to listen to his laughter, but he was an Indian. Bill had warned her. She knew she should run, certainly not gawk like a schoolgirl, but she couldn’t move any part of her. She felt as though she were stuck in quicksand.

This man was beautiful. And she sensed a gentleness in him. How could anyone who looked like him be called savage?

Why was she staring at him so boldly? So openly? She’d certainly seen Indians before. Just not so close up. She felt a fleeting twinge of shame. But she was curious, but there was more than that. It was like she knew him, not by name so much, but there was something familiar about him. A kinship. An indescribable tug. Her thoughts went willy-nilly. What kinship could she have with this man?

An unladylike sound squeezed between her lips. Maybe the heat was putting fanciful ideas into her head.

She wanted so much to talk to him. To toss away all caution and decorum, and plod across to the other side to say, “How do you do? My name is...” But she couldn’t, so she stood there, afraid to say anything, but afraid to leave, to blink.

He kept looking at her as though he too were rooted there. His eyes darted away and then returned. Was that a trace of a smile on his face? She smiled back, and then turned when she heard movement behind her.

“Maggie, there you...” Emma came along the shore of the river. Then she spotted the Indian. And screamed. She grabbed Maggie by the arm. “Run.”

Maggie took two steps, looking back over her shoulder. He was gone. The empty space he’d left made her feel lost. “He’s gone.” She let out her breath.