Amy paced the floor for most of that first night. She tried to tell herself it was no different than being in Oro City. “Alone is alone,” she murmured, looking out at the dawn. But deep inside she knew it was different. There was a feeling of finality to it all. At the moment she watched Daniel stride leisurely around the end of the log enclosure, despair dropped on her like a cape she must wear—a dark, dismal gray.
Two more days passed before Amy could accept what she had been seeing mirrored in the eyes of her father and mother. Each day Amelia had come to urge Amy, “Please, dear, gather your things and move in with us. You mustn’t stay here alone.”
At first Amy had turned away from her mother, but on this day, she faced her with a new concern. “Mother, what was that noise just before dawn?”
“The cavalry moving out. Eli and I were up to watch them—all dressed in their uniforms and fully armed. Does that tell you something?”
Slowly she spoke. “The Army. Something bad has happened. If Daniel were coming back, he would be here by now.” Her lips were wooden and Amelia reached for her.
Finally she allowed Amelia to help her gather up their belongings to carry down to her cabin. Slowly folding Daniel’s shirt, and thinking that he didn’t even have a blanket, Amy gave in to tears. Amelia put down her load and came to Amy. Amelia lifted Amy’s face, and with her palms she wiped the tears from her face, saying, “Daughter, you’ve been strong before, you must be again. Don’t give up hope until—it is necessary.”
Amy crumbled against her shoulder. When she finally raised her face and scrubbed at her eyes, she managed a smile. “I’ll try to be confident, Mother. How thankful I am that you’re here!”
“Now let’s have some breakfast and then go to the sewing circle over at Trina Dayton’s place.”
Eli turned as they walked through the door. He was leaning on the crutches, and Amy guessed he had been hobbling around the cabin. There was a white line of pain around his mouth and Amy saw the expression in his eyes. She stopped in the doorway, wondering about that expression.
Is it possible Father cares more deeply than I’ve guessed? It’s also possible they have news.
She winced. Hastily Amelia said, “There’s been no word; I just can’t have her over there alone. What trouble that young rebel caused when he violated Daniel’s friendship and ran away!” she said as she went to put on her apron.
Eli nodded his head in agreement as he hopped across the room and patted her hair. “Maybe you’d better be thinking about moving out with us next week. There’re several wagons headed for Colorado, and we’ve been offered room.”
“I wondered why you were working so hard with those crutches.” Amy turned away, adding, “I suppose if Daniel isn’t back I’d better go. That’s what he wants me to do, only it’s so—” She gulped and took a deep breath. It was impossible to say the word final.
Eli shook his head, saying, “Well, with all the activity—the Army moving out and the prisoners being traded, it doesn’t appear to be a good idea to hang around much longer. Who knows what’ll happen?”
After breakfast Amy and Amelia gathered up their mending and walked across the parade grounds to the line of officers’ quarters. A distraught Trina met them at the door. Two crying toddlers clung to her skirt. Amelia handed the sewing to Amy and scooped up the nearest child.
Trina rubbed at her brow. “I’m sorry. It always affects me this way when the men ride out. I can’t forget the bad times.
“Even before all this started, it was bad. One day last summer a fellow rode in with news that the settlers up the Santa Fe Trail were being harassed, so the men all rode out. A bright shiny day like this. I still thank God that my husband’s horse threw a shoe. Of course he had to stop to take care of it. By the time he caught up with the men, it was all over.”
Trina’s words threw a clear picture in front of Amy. The sunshine, the plunging horses, and the hills erupting with shouts and dust as the Indians swooped down upon them. A bright summer day, while some women were forever plunged into winter. Winter of the heart, thought Amy. A gray, dismal cape to wear forever.
Half the morning had disappeared behind the murmured conversation before Amy asked the question. “Do you know why the men were called out this morning?”
Trina looked surprised. “Don’t you know! Canby’s men have the Confederates in retreat. They are running and our men are chasing.”
“But that’s good!” Amy exclaimed, sitting up straight and pushing her fingers into the corners of her eyes to stem the tears that threatened. “There won’t be any more fighting.”
Amelia spoke gently. “Not here—but Amy, the war isn’t over. This is just one little battle.”
Now Amy’s voice was dull as she voiced her fear. “And other women will keep on facing this. Back there. War—why can’t we get along with each other?”
Trina cuddled her little girl against her shoulder. Her face was sad, remote, as she slowly said, “That isn’t all. There’s other parts of war that are bad. It tears at the hearts and minds of people. In ’61, just before the war started, this place was torture. People were being torn apart by all the conflicting views.
“It’s bad to have to decide against everything you’ve been taught to believe is right. We saw that here. People were going south, leaving the Union and the Army, because of the pull between family and home.”
Amelia added, “But there was conflict. How it must have torn the families apart.”
Trina nodded. “We tried to be polite and continue to be friends. But it sure does tear a person apart inside, knowing that some of our dearest friends will soon be fighting against us.”
From across the room the quiet little woman spoke. “Sometimes it isn’t easy to do what you really want to do, deep down.” For a moment sadness pulled at her mouth; then with a sigh she straightened and smiled and continued briskly.
“For months the only topic discussed was the right and wrong of it all. North and South. It ruined even the most joyous of occasions. Finally, when war was announced, there was a rip right down the middle of us. It’s one thing to talk, but it’s another thing to be faced with the fact of war.
“Now we were friend and enemy. The feeling was there, even among dearest of friends. It became impossible to speak your heart. See, this wasn’t all because of politics. It was blood loyalties that swayed the men and their families. I tell you, there were some sad partings as men packed up and went south to fight a war they didn’t endorse, simply because family was in the South. It was in their blood, to believe family was more important than anything else.”
There was silence in the room. Amy saw that Amelia was bent nearly double over her sewing. Her voice was muffled when she finally spoke. “I daresay not a one in this whole nation hasn’t been touched in much the same way. Men fighting when they don’t want to fight. Men and women ripped apart because of all the ugliness. Some not even understanding why. I’ve seen it happen, and how I wish I could have prevented it! At times I wonder if we will ever again be whole.”
“But it hasn’t been going on all that long!” Amy exclaimed, bewildered by the pain in her mother’s voice.
Amelia looked at her. “It has been going on for a long time. Too long. Since the beginning, when the first Negro was brought into this country in chains and that first white man looked the other direction, the trouble began. We can’t turn away from things like this and still continue to be whole people.”
There was silence in the room as each woman busily worked at her sewing. Trina broke the silence. Her voice was low and thoughtful as she said, “There were other things, too. I was raised in the South. My family was poor, struggling to keep food on the table. Just struggling to keep the few acres we had. There were eight of us children. I remember chopping brambles and fighting weeds before I was old enough to go to school.” She paused and looked at Amelia. “There was not one thing we poor people could do to get ahead. The big planters around us, with their army of slaves, just plain took every acre they could get their hands on. Standing there, with a grin on their faces, they waited for us to fail so that they could grab our land.”
Later, when they stood to leave, Trina said, “As long as there is war there will be an army. My husband and men like him will have a job. The power and the glory. Sometimes I think they close their minds to the rest and see only the horses and uniforms. The glory of it all.” She shuddered.
Amy cried, “But if you hate it so, why did you marry him?”
She saw Trina wince before she said, “Because I love him.” Taking a deep breath, she added, “I asked Colonel Wainswright’s wife the same question. The colonel was killed in the skirmish with the Indians.” She watched Amy as she stated, “I guess there’s no way we can avoid pain in this life.”
****
Amy recalled that statement the day their group of three wagons left Fort Union. With Eli cushioned on the bed of blankets in the rear wagon, and Amelia on Daniel’s horse, they rode out as soon as the sun was above the horizon.
Amy avoided looking behind as she prodded her horse and searched for something to say to her mother. Finally she said, “We’re not a very big wagon train. I heard the men talking. They’re saying the Indians are starting to give the settlers plenty of trouble.”
Amelia was smiling as she asked, “Did you and Daniel think of that before you left Colorado to look for us?”
“No. It was too early for the Indians to be doing much. Besides, I think we were young and foolish then.” She had to stop to steady her voice.
Amelia said, “Amy, if ever faith is important, it’s important now.”
“You think that if I just pray, God will bring my husband back to me?”
“You know I don’t mean that. Daniel’s been saying it pretty strongly to me. Faith means having confidence that God is in control, and also that there’s nothing in His creation which doesn’t fit into His plan.” Amelia smiled gently. “See, I’m learning my lesson. I said this over and over the day the accident happened.”
“I know,” Amy replied soberly, “and I also know God’s plans could be completely different from the plans I hold in my head. But somehow I didn’t think we’d work out all our troubles just to end up losing—having something like this happen.” She faced Amelia, unable to keep back the rush of words, “Oh, Mother, I’m so frightened. I love Daniel and I just can’t see life going on without him.” Amelia’s head was bowed. She didn’t reply.
The wagon train turned northeast out of Fort Union. Finally Amelia said, “This is the way we came down from Raton Pass after the accident. It was a steep hill; now we’ll have to climb it.”
“What happened to the team?”
“One of the horses had a cut on his leg. We decided to sell them both. The wagon was a pile of firewood.”
They rode all that day through the arid desert flatlands. Ahead of them the line of blue mountains promised relief from the dust and burning sun, but they seemed to keep their distance. When Amy pulled Daniel’s old hat forward to shade her eyes, she remarked, “Seems hard to realize Colorado is still having snow. Another week of riding and we’ll be wishing some of this warmth back on us.”
Amelia’s sharp glance made Amy straighten in the saddle and smile. “Well, can you recommend the scenery, Mother?”
“It gets better as we go. Amy, you haven’t asked about the wagons ahead of us.”
“Father told me there’s some wounded Colorado men riding along. I wonder why.”
“They are going home. But they are still soldiers. I understand their injuries aren’t serious enough to prevent them from protecting the wagons.”
Late in the afternoon one of the men came riding back to Amy and Amelia. Cheerfully he hailed them. “Name’s Downs. Guess I’m in charge. How are you ladies? Are you enjoying the scenery?” Amy nodded and he added, “Just wanted to let you know we’ll soon be stopping for the night. We’re getting pretty close to the Maxwell ranch.” He explained, “A fellow by the name of Lucian Maxwell has been acquiring a sizable hunk of the territory. Just ahead is Cimarron, and the settlement is part of the Maxwell ranch. This means we’ll be under the protection of the ranch for another day or so.”
There was something guarded about the man’s manner, and Amelia asked the question Amy dared not ask. “Are you thinking we’ll have problems with the Indians?”
“The chances are more than likely. Ever heard of Taos Lightning?”
Amelia nodded and Amy said, “I hear it’s bad liquor. They sell it in Colorado Territory.”
“Well, there’s some ranchers and settlers hereabouts who’ve discovered there’s a good profit in selling the stuff to the Indians. Having the Army distracted by the war isn’t helping matters any.”
Amy could think only of Daniel. “Has there been anything happening—with the Indians, I mean—this past week?”
She saw the sympathy in his eyes as he shook his head. “No, ma’am. As far as we know there’s not been trouble like that recently. The Indian agent, Arny’s his name, seems to have a good handle on things right now. Soon it’s time for the men to be getting crops planted. That helps.” He hesitated and then added, “‘Course, it could be a different situation when we reach Colorado.”
Amy watched Downs’ brisk salute as he rode away from them.
“Shall we catch up with the wagon and see how your father is doing?” Amelia asked.