As they made camp that night, she fixed their supper after he shot a rabbit. They were sitting around the campfire and he looked over at her. She could skin a rabbit as quickly and easily as he could. Not many women could do that, especially not the kind of women Amelia came from. Amelia came from a much more genteel kind of people. He wondered about that. Would she ever fit in with her folks again? He was beginning to doubt it. If they had seen her just now, what would they think of her? Should he even mention it to her? No, he'd wait. He didn't want to destroy all her confidence.
He debated whether to talk to her about being captive or not. He didn't want to see her depressed, but by ignoring it, it might be worse.
"Down in Elkhart, back in '38, some white folks were captured by the Indians. Comanche's I think it was." He took the knife back from her and wiped it off before putting it up. "Anyway most of the captives were children. However, there was one woman, she was pregnant…Rachel Plummer. She had an ordeal like yours, only she wasn't a captive quite as long. She went through quite a time though. They killed her baby, in front of her. Her brother was along too. Also a cousin or two. The father, he went after them and kept after them until they were either traded or found."
Amelia stared into the fire but she listened in fascination. He saw her expression change. He could see she was thinking about her own capture and the expression carried a deep seeded sadness.
"What happened to Rachel?" She asked.
He wasn't sure he should go on, but it was better for her to get her feelings out now, and then wait until she came upon her folks. No telling how that would work. He shrugged. "She came home, lived for a while and died, she was only about twenty. She'd been through so many bad times. Her cousin, Cynthia Parker…was only nine. She grew up with the Indians, married one of them, and her son became a famous chief, that led his people to peace. Quanah Parker."
"I've heard of him. The Huaco's spoke of him often."
"Why did she live with them so long?"
"Well her Uncle kept after them all. And finally, it paid off. But Cynthia had lived with them so long, she didn't want to go back. She cut her hair off, to mourn leaving them."
"I can understand that." Amelia cried. "But Iron Kettle wouldn't appreciate me taking on so."
"No he wouldn't. But I’m sure he's proud of you right now." Cale agreed. "Anyway, she had a child by her Indian husband. Quanah and she felt she belonged with them. She just couldn't fit in with white folks any more, or didn't want to. Of course you didn't have relations with them so your case is very different."
She looked at him now. "Do you think I'll be like that?"
"No, I think you'll get along fine. You are a survivor." Cale said softly. "We'll practice eating and manners and even dancing if you like. I want you to feel comfortable with them when we meet up with them."
"Cale?" She called his name so softly.
"Yeah?"
"Do you want to know why I really don't want to go back to my people?"
His head lifted and he stared into her eyes. "I'm pretty curious about that."
"I lived with the Indians for four years, Cale…"
"Yeah…I know." He nodded wondering where this was going.
"In all that time, there were plenty of other captives that came along. Some survived, some didn't. Some were traded, some were found."
He twisted his head, "There were?"
"Yes. But there was a difference in most of them."
Cale came closer, "What? What was the difference?"
"Most of them had someone looking for them. Someone they knew well enough to call them by name. And some went home. But…no one…no one came looking for me, Cale!" She cried, as real tears slid down her cheeks.
He saw her misery and leaned over to pull her into his arms. He cuddled her there, so she could cry.
He rested his chin on her forehead. What could he say to make her feel better about that? Nothing! "Now…you don't know for a fact they didn't come looking for you."
"I know that no one ever called my name out. No one familiar ever came near me during that time. Of course, my parents died, so they wouldn't have been looking for me. But…Cale…if he loved me…if he loved me at all…wouldn't he have looked for me?"
He kissed her forehead, absently as though he didn't even know he did it. "Don't jump to conclusions before you know the whole story. I'm told he was a dude, he might not have known where to look for you. He might have looked for a while, and then given up. There could be many explanations."
She nodded, but a big tear rolled down her cheek.
"I told myself that for a long time." She said and stood up. She walked about then staring out at the horizon. "But I never convinced myself of it. Like I said, most of the others had some of their people looking, and the Indians knew it. Some would come close enough and yell out their names and they would run to them and cry with happiness. But the longer I stayed and the longer no one came. I felt so alone, Cale. I felt abandoned. And in my heart I still feel that abandonment."
"It takes a man that can track and hunt to even get close to an Indian camp. They are so good at covering their tracks. He'd have needed some help. Why Mr. Plummer looked for years before he got those kids back."
"But he didn't give up. Doesn't that say something about a person's character, that they don't give up?"
"He did put up your picture." Cale tried to defend this Bertram. He didn't know why, but it seemed unfair to blame him not knowing for sure.
"Yeah, in a store, in town. Little good that would do."
"All I'm saying is," he came closer, pulling her up against him and covering her hand with his own, "Give him a chance."
She leaned her head against his shoulder and her fingers intertwined with his. She could almost feel his chin when he looked down at her.
"You wouldn't have given up, would you?"
"No ma'am…" he replied softly.
Just holding her there, was a joy that filled him in some strange and wonderful way. Deep down, he knew that her gut feelings about her intended were true. If the man had any character, he wouldn't have given up. But he'd never say such a thing to Amelia. It was enough that she knew that herself. But facing that truth took true courage. And it must have hurt an awful lot to know that no one seemed to care. To be left like that, with no one coming after her. No hope of going home. Perhaps that was the worst torture of all. She'd been so alone…
He wished he could comfort her more, but for now, he'd just hold her and be there for her.
She turned and looked at him, with a sad smile. "I just wanted you to know…why."
"Thanks for sharing it with me." He said lowly.
"That's part of the reason I came to think so much of Sarah and Iron Kettle. They became my family. When the fur traders came to our camp, they tried to get hold of me and rape me. Sarah and Iron Kettle stopped them and sent them on their way. They protected me. It was my hope of something to hold onto. They cared, Cale!"
He nodded. "They are good people. And I can understand you feeling that way. You must have felt very alone with the Comanche."
"I try not to think about those times. The first year was so hard. So very hard."
"Well, it's over, Amelia. And you've got something to look forward to."
"Do you think he'll be in this town we are going to?" She asked.
"I don't know. He had a job there, working at a mill of some kind. All I know is we can ask around."
She stared at him now as he moved away from her. "Why are you doing this?"
"What's that?"
"Trying to find them for me?" She asked.
He didn't look at her now. He couldn't. "What you've been through…everybody needs the chance to go home. Even if it don't work out. It's not something you can leave lie…"
"No, I guess it isn't. But… the farm…don't you need to get back?"
"After I've taken you to him, maybe. Not now. Hodge and Sarah are looking after the place for me. I trust them."
Trying to forget about things, she gathered their dishes and went to the creek to wash them.
He followed her. One because he didn't want to see her depressed and two, he didn't want anything hurting her any more. "How long have you known Hodge?" She asked when she sensed his presence.
"Oh well, let's see. I guess almost six years now. He came before my brothers left. He just sort of wandered into my yard and started sleeping on my place. I found his tracks first, then him."
"He's a good friend, isn't he?"
"The best. I might have gone plumb loco if he hadn't come along. He keeps me straight about stuff."
She smiled, finishing the dishes.
"Kind of like Sarah does for me?" She asked.
"I reckon so."
"And Iron Kettle?"
"Like I said, Hodge introduced us to trade one summer. I go back every fall to see what I can trade with him. Least I did, I don't know what might happen now. Maybe I'll go visit him after a while to see how he's getting on."
"I'd like to go with you…"
"Your folks might not understand that, Amelia." Cale frowned.
"I know…I hope they are happy on the reservation. I hope they treat them right." She sighed looking out against the sinking sun.
Cale shook his head. "If they do, it will be the first time. But, Iron Kettle has never made war with them, so maybe they will try to treat them right. And they are great farmers."
"They are. I'm pretty good at farming, myself."
Cale's head jerked around to stare at her once more. "You are?"
"Yes, Sarah taught me. Of course I did learn a lot from the Comanche too, but they weren't as successful. The Huaco's were."
"I gave Iron Kettle some tobacco seeds from Tennessee, I hope he can grow some. If they will let him."
"He loves to smoke."
"I know. I used to kid him a lot. Smoking isn't that good for you. But he just smiled."
Amelia smiled upon reflection. "Cale, if things do work out and I stay with Bertram, would you come visit me every once and a while?"
Cale studied that question, long and hard. If she stayed with them, he wasn't sure he want to see what she might turn into. But how could he answer her?
"Maybe…" He shrugged.
"No…you wouldn't." She said as though she read his mind.
"Why do you say that?"
"Because I'm beginning to know you Cale. You like what I am right now, but if I stayed, you wouldn't. And you know it."
"You think you know me that well, do you?"
"Yes…I do." She said softly and smiled. "Maybe I'm being presumptuous but I think I know you pretty well."
"We better get some sleep; we have to get up early." He told her. She'd been so emotional this evening and the urge to hold her kept creeping up on him, unannounced. She was right, he did like her…just as she was.
"Did I do better at supper….?"
"You did fine. But I know it takes getting used to. I could tell you had to think about it, didn't you?"
"I can't fool you!" She chuckled. Then sobered suddenly. "The Comanche starved me a lot at first, and I began to behave like a heathen. I didn't bother with a fork or spoon. I ate with my fingers. I no longer said grace as I felt God had deserted me. I felt totally abandoned. Slowly I began to live, as they lived. I didn't wear shoes most of those three years with them. I blamed God and everyone else for my troubles. I was wrong. The Huaco's taught me to believe again, to hope, to feel, when I had forgotten how to feel."
"It'll get easier. You just need some time, that's all."
"And if it doesn't?" She asked. "There are some things Cale that won't mend. Like my back, I have scars. How do I explain those to a husband. How do I say I do to a man who wants a perfect wife, and I cannot be that perfect wife any longer."
"No one's perfect Amelia. As for being a wife, if he loves you, he'll 'll take you like you are." He smiled and checked on the horses, then made his pallet on the other side of the fire from her. "Some things you can't change. But you can quit feeling sorry for yourself and start planning on making a future for yourself."
"I'm not feeling sorry for myself!" She glared at him. "I'm being realistic. I know the kind of person he is. He'll want perfection and I can't be that."
"Perhaps it's not you that needs to change." He suggested.
"I can't and won't ask him to change. I'm not even sure how I feel about him. So it may not matter how he feels about me."
Cale shut up. He didn't need to preach to her. If she wanted this man, then she'd have to find her own answers. If she didn't. She'd have to realize that change wasn't what she needed. She needed acceptance, of herself.
"You don't have to sleep so far away?" She teased him when he lay his blanket so far away with the fire between them.
"Yes ma'am, I do…" He said and stared at her through the flickering flames. "Night Amelia."
"Night…" She called softly.