Reverend Edward Gibbons finished a very long prayer, after which he and his family sat down with Major Albert Doleman and his wife, Gloria, the daughter of an army general from Wisconsin. Margaret felt uncomfortable around the woman, who had an uppity air about her and who made it very obvious she hated it here at Fort Reno. She had come to visit her husband for a month or two and would go back to her mother in Wisconsin before winter. She hoped that her husband would be transferred to a “more bearable” location than Indian Territory, at which time she would gladly join him.
That is the difference between an army man and a preacher, she had once rudely remarked to Margaret. An army man does not expect his wife to always follow him, but a preacher’s wife…well, she must follow him wherever God calls him, mustn’t she? Kind of like Ruth in the Bible—‘whither thou goest,’ something like that. How sad for you, Maggie.
The woman had no regard for the Cheyenne at all. She refused to go near an Indian, seldom even came out of the fine, brick officers’ quarters where her husband lived. They had no children, and she had joked that if the major didn’t get himself stationed someplace respectable soon so that she could stay with him, there would never be any children.
“Your lovely little daughter looks sunburned,” the woman told Margaret aloud. She sat across the table from Margaret and Evy. She picked up a bowl of mashed potatoes and handed them to her husband as her lovely, green eyes fell on Margaret with a discerning gaze. “She is much too fair for this damnable climate, you know.”
“I quite agree,” Major Doleman added. The man put some of the potatoes on his plate and handed them on to Margaret, who wondered if Gloria Doleman had ever cooked a meal on her own. Every time the major invited them to join them for a meal, it was cooked by army cooks at the mess hall and carried to them in warming pans, then served by one of the privates as though the major and his wife were a king and queen.
Margaret felt a flush come to her cheeks, realizing the real reason Evy was sunburned. Edward would be furious if he knew she had been swimming naked at the pond. “I’m afraid Evy played outside too long today,” she answered the major and his wife.
Evy giggled, and Margaret prayed the child would remember to keep their secret. That was not an easy thing for a four-year-old, who did not fully understand why it mattered.
Margaret scooped some potatoes onto the child’s plate. “Eat up, Evy. You know your daddy doesn’t like any food left on your plate.” She gave her only a little so the child would not have to force down the food just to please Edward. She passed the potatoes to her husband, who was watching them both closely, a stern look in his dark eyes. She thought how handsome he was when he smiled, but that was an unusual sight. Edward was eleven years older than she, a man who took life much too seriously, as far as Margaret was concerned. When she was seventeen, she had been attracted not only to his looks but also to his determined quest to bring Christ to those who still did not know Him, his zeal to “save the world.”
Margaret had wanted to be the woman who supported him in that glorious vision, had felt a fire tear through her the first time he touched her. But soon after their marriage he had quickly doused the flames by chastising her for making noises of pleasure when he made love to her, which had embarrassed her to such devastation that it was several weeks before she could even bring herself to make love again. However, a child had already been conceived from that first humiliating experience, and Evelyn was born nine months later, a very difficult birth that had apparently done some kind of damage, as she had lost two babies since then.
“What is the mission of the troops we saw riding out of here earlier?” Edward asked the major, who sat at the other end of the table. He set down the potatoes and took a bowl of gravy from Margaret.
“They’re out scouting for that troublemaker, Wild Horse, again. He broke loose from Darlington, and settlers farther north have had some problems with raiding. We think Wild Horse might have something to do with it. There have even been reports of a couple of young girls being—” He hesitated, realizing there were women present. “Of course, there are a lot of other renegades out there,” he continued. “It’s so hard to pin down just which ones do what, so we end up having to punish all of them for what a few of them do. All I know is, things are usually more peaceful when Wild Horse is on the reservation where he belongs.”
Margaret could hardly eat. Rape? Somehow she knew Wild Horse had not done such a thing. Besides, he couldn’t have been that far away if he had already made it back to the agency today. “No one can actually say who did the terrible deeds then?” she asked cautiously.
“Only that it was Indians,” the major answered. “The girls who were violated are too distraught to identify them, so I’m told through telegrams.”
“There was more than one?”
Edward cast his wife a scowl. “Margaret, why are you asking so many questions about something that is not of your concern?”
She held his gaze, embarrassed he had chastised her in front of the major and his wife. “I am concerned with justice,” she answered. “It doesn’t seem fair to blame a man for something just on hearsay.” She looked at the major. “I thought I heard something about Wild Horse usually escaping on his own, not with a war party. If there are several men involved in these raids, then maybe he had nothing to do with them. Maybe he just needs to get off the reservation once in a while and feel free.”
“Margaret!” Edward’s face reddened, and he looked at the major. “I am sorry for my wife’s forwardness,” he told the man. “It is not like her at all.”
Margaret held her own anger in check. She knew Edward was furious by the fact that he called her Margaret instead of Maggie.
“Oh, what is the harm in asking questions?” Gloria put in. “After all, women were violated. It’s natural to worry and wonder who might have been responsible, seeing as how she has to live so close to the reservation. That is why I stay inside most of the time. I don’t trust those savages one bit, but I do agree that there should be some way to be more fair about who gets accused of these things. I am sure that punishing a whole group of innocent Indians for what a few of them do can only keep the hard feelings stirred and cause the Indians to continue looking for revenge. It seems to be a never-ending circle.”
“If they were all dead or in real prisons instead of on reservations where they can get loose, maybe we could get on with settling the West,” the major put in.
Margaret was appalled at the man’s attitude, but she knew she had already said too much.
“Well, I hope I can get through to some of them,” Edward told the man. “I still believe they simply need to be Christianized. If I work with them long enough, they’ll come around. Each time I go to the reservation to preach, one or two more come to listen.”
Margaret quietly finished her meal while the men spoke, and she smiled inwardly when the major prattled about how his men would find “that renegade Wild Horse,” if they had to travel a hundred miles to track him down. He’s right here under your nose, you fool! she felt like shouting.
“I like Wild Horse,” Evy spoke up.
Margaret struggled to keep her composure, as the other three stared at the child.
“Evelyn, what are you saying?” Edward asked.
“He had a little girl like me,” she said with a sweet smile. “I saw him today.”
Margaret forced a light laugh. “Evy, such an imagination!” She scooped what was left of the child’s potatoes together. “Now you finish those potatoes and quit making up stories.”
The rest of them laughed, and the major shook his head. “How ironic the child should tell a story so close to the truth. Wild Horse did have a daughter. Actually, he had a son and a daughter. They and his wife were killed at Sand Creek eleven years ago, back in sixty-four, when Colorado volunteers attacked a peaceful village of Cheyenne under Black Kettle. It was quite a scandal for Colorado—a Major Chivington directed the raid—killed mostly women and children. The Cheyenne went on quite a rampage after that, and Wild Horse was one of the ringleaders. I guess you can hardly blame the man, seeing as how he lost his young wife and two children. I don’t think that rage ever quite left him. He never did take another wife. Still, he’s got to realize that everything is changed now. The Indian simply cannot live the way he once lived, and going out and raiding and killing will not work. It only makes life more difficult for the rest of the Cheyenne.”
Edward frowned. “How old is this Wild Horse?”
“Oh, I guess about thirty-two.”
“Hmm. Only a year younger than I am. Life sure is an irony, isn’t it? A man the same age as I, still living like an ignorant savage.”
The major swallowed a piece of chicken. “Not so ignorant as you might think. He seems quite intelligent. He actually kept and took good care of a white captive once, just so he could learn the white man’s language from him. In gratitude, he kept his word and set the young man free after several months. His purpose was simply to learn the language so that he could better defend himself and his people. He doesn’t trust the things that are said at treaty councils. He thinks the Indians get cheated partly because interpreters don’t always properly explain what is being promised them. He figured his best defense was to know the language. You have to admit, that’s smart thinking.”
Margaret felt a sweet satisfaction. For some reason it pleased her to know that Wild Horse was so intelligent. Now she knew how he managed to speak such good English. She was glad Edward had asked the questions she had wanted to ask herself. Her heart ached at the thought of what had happened to Wild Horse’s wife and little children. What a terrible thing! What kind of battle is it when men murder women and children? How could a man not carry revenge in his heart when something like that happens?
She stayed out of the rest of the conversation, glad that little Evy did not bring up Wild Horse’s name again. Apparently everyone believed the child just had a vivid imagination, but Margaret felt somewhat uncomfortable whenever she caught Gloria looking at her. She suspected that being female, the woman had an instinct for another woman’s troubles. Was it her own guilt that made her feel Gloria Doleman suspected something was not quite right? The woman already had detected that Margaret was not happy with her marriage. Surely that was why she had made the remark about it being too bad a preacher’s wife was forced to follow her husband to the ends of the earth.
Margaret was glad when the meal and dessert and a shared glass of wine were finished. Wine was the only type of alcohol her husband would touch, and then only one glass. They thanked the major for his hospitality and the good meal and finally left to walk back to their cabin, built just outside the walls of the fort.
“I am very upset with you, Maggie, for making those remarks to the major about something you know nothing about.”
Margaret carried a sleepy Evy in her arms. “Edward, just because I am a female, doesn’t mean I don’t have opinions and beliefs of my own. I have a right to express them.” She stopped walking. “Please take Evy. She’s getting too heavy.”
He stopped with her and took the child into his arms, arms Margaret had loved to feel around her when they first fell in love. They were strong arms, and she longed to see his naked torso the way she had seen Wild Horse’s earlier in the day. Edward had a fine physique, but he showed it to no one, not even his wife. It had been drilled into him since he was small that practically every pleasure there was in the world, as well as that of looking upon one’s wife or one’s own body, was sinful. Margaret wondered if he, too, sometimes wanted to express his passion more; if he had feelings he kept in check only because someone else had told him it was wrong to feel that way.
“I have never known you to behave this way,” he told her, scowling.
Margaret drew in her breath. “Edward, you are never going to reach the Cheyenne until you learn to truly care about them as human beings. You have to understand how they think and feel, what they believe, their spiritual connections. You can’t just blindly walk in on them and order them to change their lives. Maybe they don’t think they need salvation at all! Maybe we could learn something from them, and through what we learn, we can better understand how to help them through this terrible time of transition for them. They have lost everything, Edward! Everything! Now the government comes in and tries to take away what dignity they have left, and people like us come and try to steal their very religion out from under them!”
Edward stared at her in shock, speechless. “Margaret!” he said in a whisper. It was the only word he could utter.
She waited for a tirade, holding his gaze boldly and feeling better than she had in a long time. It felt good to speak her mind. If she could only get up the courage to tell him how she felt about their own personal relationship. “I will not say I am sorry for all the things I just said,” she said aloud. “I am not. I married you because I loved you and wanted to help you in your quest to bring Christ to those who needed to hear the truth. I meant to join you in your teachings, not just sit home nursing children. And since it looks as though there might not be any more children, I might as well get more involved in your work. Let me help you, Edward. Take me to the reservation with you. Let me and Evy get to know these people, befriend them, gain their trust. That is the only way they are going to start listening to you.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “You’ve lost your mind! Is it the desolation out here? Are you that lonely for your family and for Massachusetts?”
She closed her eyes, realizing he had not grasped a thing she had said. “No,” she answered. “I am that lonely for you, Edward.” She turned and walked rapidly then, fighting back tears. Surely there was a way to reach him, to make him understand she must be allowed to express her passions. She felt as though a volcano were boiling inside her, needing to erupt but unable to get out. Meeting Wild Horse today, that forbidden, intimate encounter had awakened something in her, needs she thought she could ignore, a longing for freedom, perhaps not so different from Wild Horse’s yearning to be free.
The night did not bring much relief from the heat. Margaret lay awake listening to crickets. In the distance she could hear voices, soldiers on night duty. She thought how ironic it was that she lay here next to her husband, yet her thoughts were of another man. Was he safe? Had he managed to hide himself at the agency?
She smiled in the darkness at her wonderful secret, and at Wild Horse’s fine trickery. Men were out there combing the hills for him, and he was right here—at least she hoped he was still here. But why did she care? She felt almost as though she were cheating on Edward thinking such thoughts, but she could not quell them. She closed her eyes and prayed for forgiveness, then turned to Edward, touching his arm. “Edward, are you still angry with me?”
He sighed deeply and did not move. “I don’t know. You just…you acted different tonight, Maggie. I’ve never seen you like that.”
She rubbed at his arm. “I can’t sit by and say nothing, Edward. I want to help you. I want to go to the reservation with you—befriend the Cheyenne, win their confidence.”
“I don’t want you there.”
“But Edward—”
“I don’t want you there!” He spoke the words louder, and she moved away from him.
“You’ll wake Evy.”
“Then don’t go against my word when she’s asleep and force me to raise my voice.”
She lay there quietly, fighting tears. “Why did you marry me, Edward?”
She heard him gasp in exasperation. “What kind of question is that?”
“A very valid one. Why did you marry me?”
He paused, shifted in bed. “Because I love you. Why else?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe you just wanted someone to give you children, a wife on your arm, to show your followers what a fine family man you are. Did you ever truly desire me, Edward?” She felt him rise to a sitting position.
“For heaven’s sake, Maggie, where are you getting these questions? Of course I desired you. A man can’t…well…he can’t be a man if he doesn’t desire the woman. How do you think you had Evy, and the two children we lost? I’m the one who fathered them.”
She turned her face to look up at him in the moonlight. “Is that the only reason you want me?”
In the moonlight she saw a strange look come into his eyes. For one brief moment she thought she detected a passion she rarely saw there, but it quickly vanished. He drew in his breath and moved to get up. “You are talking about lust, Maggie, and lust is a sin. I love you. I don’t lust after you.”
Maybe I want you to lust after me, she thought. Was it terribly sinful of her to be thinking such things? “I just…I want you to love me as a person, Edward, not as just your wife and the mother of your child. And I wish you would respect my opinions.”
He shook his head and moved toward the bedroom door, stubbing his toe on a stool. “Damn!” he cried out. He danced around for a moment, then came to the foot of the bed and grabbed hold of the brass rail. “Now look what you’ve made me do! I swore!”
“You didn’t use the Lord’s name in vain.”
“I swore, nonetheless.”
“A lot of men swear, Edward.”
“What is wrong with you tonight! I don’t understand a thing you’re trying to tell me!”
She sat up. “I’m trying to tell you that I want you to listen to me sometimes. I want you to be your own man, Edward, not the man your parents beat you into becoming. They hit you, didn’t they? You’ve mentioned that they took the whip to you every time you did or said anything they considered sinful, and I’m sure that’s why you’re afraid to allow your real feelings to show. God wants us to be joyful, to celebrate our love and our passion. And you need to do more than just preach to the Indians. God would want—”
“How dare you tell me what God wants! What does a woman know about such things! And how dare you tell me my parents were wrong to discipline me! I want no more such talk, do you understand? No more of it!”
“Mommy!” Evy called out from her room. “What’sa matter, Mommy?”
Margaret sighed. “You’ve wakened Evy.”
“It’s your fault, not mine! Tell her to go back to sleep and be good, or she will be punished! You’re spoiling her, Maggie. You never discipline her!”
Margaret got out of bed and walked up to him, facing him squarely. “And if you ever take a whip to her, I will leave you, Edward Gibbons! You will not raise our daughter the way you were raised, so that she becomes an adult with no feelings!” Her voice broke on those last words. She turned and marched into Evy’s room. The cabin was small—just the two bedrooms and one main room, a simple structure put up by soldiers. Their arguing could not help but be heard by Evy. She picked up the child and soothed her, telling her everything was all right and she must go to sleep. The child finally dozed off again, and Margaret went into the main room, where Edward sat at the table reading the Bible by an oil lamp. He looked up at her.
“Is that what you think, Maggie? That I have no feelings?”
She was almost glad for the hurt in his eyes. At least that meant she had stirred something inside him, and had given him something to think about. “No. But I think that whatever feelings you do have, you keep them buried because you are afraid to show them. And if I sense your lack of compassion, what do you think the Cheyenne think? I think they can be very perceptive, and they know when someone is sincere and when he is not. Until they feel you are sincere, they are not going to respond to your preaching.” She moved to the bedroom door. “Good night, Edward.”
He did not reply. She went to bed alone, and again her thoughts strayed to another man, one with dark eyes—eyes that had roamed her body as though she stood before him naked. Edward had never looked at her that way. She wished he would come to bed and pull her into his arms, tell her he wanted her, just because she was his woman and he loved her, and for no other reason. But when she awoke in the morning, she realized she never even noticed when her husband came to bed. He had not touched her.