War Cloud's Passion Page 3

  The big man appeared somewhat taken aback. “Illegal, ma’am?” he asked as though he hadn’t heard correctly. “I don’t rightly think so. And this ’un here ain’t no boy. This here’s an Injun.”

  “I disagree,” Anna uttered. “The child that you hold is a human being, Indian or not.”

  “Not out here in Kansas, he ain’t. Nits make lice.” The man gave Anna an inspecting look. “Youse must be one of them silly easterners, ain’t ya, ma’am? Not a very pretty one either.”

  At the insult, Anna lifted her chin.

  “Now, look here, ma’am,” the man in front of her offered, “we don’t want no trouble. We’s only holdin’ the boy as hostage until we’s—”

  “As hostage!” Anna interrupted. “A youth who has done nothing more than be a living relative of another man! And in restraints? Look at the poor boy’s wrists, and his neck.”

  “Yeah, jest look at ’em,” the man chuckled inanely.

  But Anna would not be kept silent and she reproached them even further, “If you are merely holding the youth as hostage, then I demand that you at least let him out of those chains.”

  “You, ma’am? Demand?”

  Again Anna was met with that senseless laughter, but this time from all three of the men.

  “Why, ma’am,” another of the men, farther away from her, chimed, “it ain’t like we’s hurtin’ the boy or nothin’.” At the same time, that man tugged on the lad’s fetters, causing a fresh rivulet of blood to run down the child’s wrists.

  Anna snorted. “Why, shame on you, gentlemen,” she chided. “Didn’t your mothers teach you any better than to lie? Just you look there at the boy’s wrists and his neck! And from my window I saw the way you were manhandling this child. Now, tell me, has this lad himself—not his brother—done anything to merit such harsh treatment?”

  All three of the men chortled with laughter—not a pleasant sound. One of them replied, “He’s Injun, ain’t he?” as if that explained it all.

  Anna stamped her foot. “I will not tolerate this kind of treatment. Not of a child.” She stood her ground when the three men flashed her irritated looks. “And not within my sight,” she added.

  All three men guffawed, one of them pushing her aside, none too gently, as though to get by her. Another of them mimicked her accent as he, too, made to move around her. “Then, ma’am, might I recommend that you not watch.”

  To another round of coarse laughter, the three men pushed on past her.

  Anna glanced down at the poor Indian boy when he filed by her. She smiled at him. But it did no good. The boy didn’t even look at her.

  Anna, however, was not through with these men and she threatened, “I will tell the conductor about your maltreatment of this child, if you do not cease this barbaric approach at once.”

  The last of the men, the biggest one, turned back toward her. “You easterners, with your highfalutin ways and your big words, seem ta all think alike. Now, I’s tellin’ ya, ma’am, you go right on and tell the conductor.” A foolish grin followed his words before the man added, tipping his hat to her, “You jest do that.”

  And with nothing more to be said or done, at least for the moment, the three men pushed their way into the next car.

  Chapter Two

  The train sped over the plains of midwestern Kansas at a whopping speed of about twenty miles per hour.

  The child on Anna’s lap slept while the boy in the seat adjoining hers fidgeted, his head hanging down. Oh, dear, something was wrong.

  Anna leaned down to whisper into the lad’s ears, “Is something the matter, Collin?”

  The youngster shook his head.

  Anna sighed. She knew what it was, of course. She was, however, reluctant to speak of it.

  Collin had been badly abused by his father prior to being brought into the orphanage. It was possible that seeing the young lad, bound in irons, had stirred some bitter and painful memories for her young charge. Anna asked, “Is it because of that Indian boy that we saw with those men?”

  Again came that shake of Collin’s head, although he added, “If those men are treatin’ a boy like that only ’cause he’s Indian, what are they going to do to me? Some people hate the fish as much as they do the Indians. And some people just seem to hate.”

  Anna patted the boy’s hand. He had a point. But she said, “Not to worry, Collin. Not to worry. I think the prejudice out here extends only to Indians.” Or at least I hope so, she added to herself. “Besides,” she went on to say, “I’ll personally ensure that the family that adopts you will not ill use you. Don’t worry, now. It’s all part of the contract they will be making with the Society.” She patted Collin’s hand once more. “I’ll make sure of it, all right?”

  Collin nodded, although he did not look her in the eye, and after a while, Anna turned her gaze once again to the passing scenery.

  The land of opportunity. Wasn’t that what the West symbolized? She sighed. Such beautiful plains, yet such a rugged country. What had the man behind her said? Survival of the fittest? Was the concept true? Was it only the fittest that deserved survival?

  If that were true, then by the same reasoning these children did not deserve to live, and Anna knew she could never agree to that. Every human being deserved a chance at freedom, and these children, most of whom had never known a mother or a father, much less the warmth of love, were going to have that chance.

  Yes, one would have to be strong to exist here, but that did not mean that one could not love his fellows, be they children…or Indian…

  Anna’s eyes felt heavy and she realized with a start that she was tired. But why shouldn’t she be? She’d had very little sleep these past few days, her worries about the children keeping her awake until the wee hours of the morning.

  But she could not sleep, she told herself. She must remain awake; after all, she must register a protest about that Indian boy’s ill treatment. Perhaps she should try to find the conductor, but she realized she could not leave her charges.

  That gave her only one thing to do. She would have to wait until the conductor passed by her seat, looking for tickets.

  Which meant she could not afford a nap, she reminded herself, even while her eyes closed.

  Boom!

  Anna’s eyelids flew open. What was that noise? Worse, had she been sleeping? Had she missed the conductor?

  Quickly, Anna glanced around her. What had awakened her?

  Another explosion came from behind her; Anna recognized it as the blast of gunfire. As anxiety pumped through her body, she clutched her seat and threw her arms around Collin. What was going on?

  Suddenly, the back door of their car burst open. At once, the clanking din of the train permeated their car, followed by a scream.

  Anna glanced behind her.

  Drama unfolded as the young Indian lad, dragging his irons behind him, pushed the door of their car shut and rushed down the aisle.

  Another loud blast sounded from the adjoining car and Anna realized the bullies were shooting at the young Indian.

  Within the space of seconds, the boy scrambled over the passengers lying in the car’s aisle, pressing on impossibly over them, yet heading steadily toward her. Briefly, for a moment only, she caught the lad’s wild glance. But in that moment, she also found the calm within her to smile at him.

  The gesture, however, remained unreturned, perhaps not even seen.

  Anna stood up all at once, changing places with Collin so that she was in the seat closest to the aisle. It was almost as if Collin had read her thoughts.

  Without even a moment’s hesitation, Anna gestured toward the Indian as he pushed closer toward her.

  “Over here,” she urged, wondering if the boy understood English.

  He ignored her.

  But Anna was accustomed to dealing with children. Reaching out, she grabbed hold of the lad’s arm and pulled him toward her.

  “Bend down,” she ordered, “and hurry.”

  The youth at
last glanced at her, giving her a puzzled look.

  Just then the door handle to their own car jostled, another gun fired, and the door to their car fell open.

  “Hurry,” she urged the young man. “There is little time.” And without awaiting his agreement, Anna pulled the boy to her, forcing him to bend down. Without another thought as to what she was doing, she swept her full skirts over him, hiding him completely. Just as quickly she sat back down.

  As she had predicted, the three bullies soon followed, scampering over the people lying in the aisle and rushing past her without giving her a second glance.

  They pushed open the front door of the car, once more allowing the noise of the train to filter into their compartment.

  All three men, weapons drawn, exited. All three men returned within a matter of minutes.

  “The varmint has ta be here, lessen he jumped off the train,” one of the men offered, scratching his head with his gun as he spoke. “Ya don’t suppose he’s gone and jumped, do ya?”

  “Naw, we woulda seen him. The varmint’s here somewhere. Them irons woulda kept him from jumpin’.”

  “Pardon, ma’am,” one of the roughhousers addressed Anna, using his gun to lift his hat. “Did ya see that Injun varmint, the one you’s complainin’ about, come through here?”

  Anna didn’t even lift up her eyelids. Oh, dear, she thought. She had forgotten about the youngster sitting directly behind her—and his father. Neither of them had seemed too sympathetic to the Indian cause. Would they betray her?

  “Ma’am?”

  At last Anna raised her gaze, addressing the bully who leaned over her. She even smiled.

  “Has ya seen that Injun varmint?”

  “An Indian?” she repeated. “Or a varmint?”

  “They’s one an’ the same thing, ma’am.”

  “I’ve not seen any Injun varmint,” Anna said, acknowledging to herself that she did not lie. The young lad was certainly not a “varmint.”

  The man glanced down at her lap, as though he knew she hid something. But short of forcing her to stand and disrobe, what could he do?

  Anna turned her head away from the man.

  “Wasn’t ya sittin’ in the far seat last time I seen ya?”

  Slowly Anna turned her scrutiny back to the man. She smiled sweetly and said, “Was I?”

  The man looked stumped.

  Anna came to his rescue. “For a time I was sitting there, yes.” She pointed to the youngster beside her. “But Collin and I switched seats so that he could look out the window.”

  The man bid Collin to look at him, as though for endorsement.

  But Collin merely shrugged and gazed away. And, thank the Lord, not a single word came from behind her.

  Anna suggested, “I think, sir, that if you are looking for a ‘varmint,’ you should look elsewhere. There is no such thing here.”

  The man seemed reluctant to believe her—and with good cause, Anna acknowledged to herself. Still, in a matter of a few minutes, the man moved on.

  One tense moment followed upon another as the three men forced people to stand while they checked under their seats. Anna stood; she even moved aside, ensuring that the Indian youth remained well hidden.

  And at last the men left.

  Still, Anna waited; not moving, not speaking, fearing to so much as utter a sound. Finally, after almost a half hour, Anna leaned toward Collin, inquiring, “Would you be so kind as to take out a piece of the bread in that basket that we brought with us?”

  Collin did so.

  “Thank you,” Anna acknowledged, tearing off a part of it and handing it beneath her skirts to the Indian lad. She whispered, “He looked hungry.”

  Collin, a young man of ten, nodded.

  At length Anna observed, “Why do you think the two people sitting behind us did not betray us?”

  Collin grinned. “Have you looked?”

  Anna had not. She did so now. Why, the man and his boy were sound asleep.

  She asked, “Have they been that way for long?”

  Collin nodded. “Not even the gunfire awoke them.”

  “Then they must have been exhausted. Far be it for us to awaken them.”

  She smiled at Collin as the train crawled onward, “roaring” over the countryside at an unheard-of rate of speed—not more than twenty miles per hour.

  He might as well have called her ugly.

  Anna gulped. It was one thing to admit the fact to herself, another to hear a person speak the words aloud. Ever since the bullies had passed by her, that one man’s words kept rolling round and round her mind.

  Not a very pretty one at that.

  Anna inhaled deeply and tried to console herself with the fact that the man was the same one who thought nothing of fettering a mere boy. The man was a ruffian at best, as well as a fool, she told herself. If she knew what was good for her, she would try to turn her attention to something else. But it was no use.

  At length, she felt the stirrings of the boy, who still hid beneath the cover of her skirts. The child must have fallen asleep, she supposed, and was only now awakening.

  Oh dear, she thought, the lad must be famished. Reaching across Collin to the basket of food, she grabbed another piece of bread, sneaking it to the boy.

  There was a bigger problem, however, than mere hunger. One she had only begun to realize. How was she going to smuggle the lad off the train? Could she keep him hidden when she walked?

  Anna was considering several different solutions to the problem when she became aware that the train was slowing almost to a crawl. Glancing outside, she found herself unable to discern a reason for it. No civilization loomed up ahead yet. She leaned forward, trying to look outward, toward the engine.

  Well, no wonder. Here were buffalo, the first she had seen on this trip. There were thousands of them literally blackening the surrounding countryside as well as blocking the train tracks.

  Even at their snail’s pace, it did not take long before the entire train coasted into the thick of the shaggy animals. Within moments, Anna could see the huge beasts from her window.

  Shouts of glee sounded from within her car, and soon gunshots rang out over the prairie. One buffalo fell, followed by another and another, all within a matter of a few minutes.

  “Dang!” Another of what could only be called “sportsmen” jumped up and rushed from their car.

  Anna had heard of this sort of thing, had read of the large herds of buffalo being butchered by these hunters, had read reports of the animals’ bones and hides being collected by the railroad and sold back east. At this rate, Anna speculated as she watched one animal after another fall, there would be few buffalo left for future generations.

  The train soon came to a complete halt amidst the roaring of gunfire. Anna stole a glance at the children, noting that they appeared uneasy, but she smiled back at them in reassurance.

  “They’re only hunting buffalo,” she whispered to her darlings. “We’ll be on our way shortly.”

  Suddenly a cry rang out over the gunfire. Here was yet another and another.

  Anna became immediately alert, for these were not the sounds of animals. These were human cries.

  Quickly scanning the area around them, she gasped. A man outside her window lay inert on the ground.

  Swish, an arrow flew past her window, followed instantly by the painful cry of a man.

  Before her eyes, a man clutched his chest where an arrow had sunk into it; the man fell forward.

  Indians!

  As if to confirm her deduction, a war whoop reverberated close by her. Another followed, and another and another until there were so many of them, the air fairly rang with the high-pitched cries. Added to this cacophony came the retorts and blasts from guns. But as that particular sound became too few and far between, someone yelled out, “Cheyennes!”

  Were they losing?

  Suddenly fear washed over Anna; her stomach dropped and she barely had time to consider what she should do. She, he
rself, carried no weapon of any kind.

  “Children, come here, all of you. Now!” Anna jumped to her feet.

  Struggling out of their seats, all six youngsters flew toward her.

  “What is it, Miss Wiley?” one of the boys asked.

  Anna didn’t know what to answer. How could she tell them the truth without causing panic? A panic that might cause one of them to scream, which could bring them all to the Indians’ attention. Yet how could she not tell them? Especially when the Indians were right outside her window.

  As a result of her indecision, she said nothing, and she moved around the children, her object being to place the young ones into her aisle seat behind her and hide them. Meanwhile, she positioned herself in front of them. Hurrying as quickly as she could, she picked up one child after the other, stationing them behind her.

  “Miss Wiley, are we going to die?” one of the boys asked.

  She paused in order to gather her thoughts, if that were possible. At last she answered, “Of course not,” and had barely uttered the words when a group of four Indians broke in through the door to their compartment.

  Anna’s scream came as a completely involuntary reaction.

  Larger than life, with hideous red, black and white slashes of paint across their faces and on their bodies, the Indians wielded guns and knives as though they had been born to handle them. They also wasted no time in using them.

  The toll of death, along with the swish of knives, the roar of guns and the wild, war whoops resounded off the walls of their small compartment until Anna’s head reeled.

  She watched as one after another of the white men fell beneath the Indians’ guns and knives. Her heart beat so quickly, she thought it might stop. Desperately she tried to gather the children together in an attempt to shield them from sight.

  But it was useless.

  A precious few of her children still stood in the aisle, even as the Indians steadily advanced toward them. Anna flung herself forward, in front of her children. She hadn’t considered that her action might uncover the boy; in reality, she had forgotten about him. However, it was this action, and perhaps this action alone, that saved her.