7

Hannah could scarcely believe her own actions. Why in the world she had done this thing—this very foolish thing—was beyond her. She hadn’t even had time to think when she’d headed out of the house to greet the Comanche. Her only thought had been that if she didn’t act fast, her family might well be killed.

She looked into the face of the Comanche leader and tried not to let her fear show. The man was fierce looking with his painted face. She could see his piercing dark eyes slowly assess her. This was a man who had no doubt killed many whites. His only concern at the moment was for his son—just as her concern was for Andy, Marty, and the others.

“We do not wish to be at war with you or the Numunuu,” Hannah said softly.

“Your people are always at war with the Numunuu.” He did nothing to draw the other warriors to his side but instead looked at his son and spoke in their language.

Hannah couldn’t help but wonder what the conversation entailed. When Night Bear extended the sweet roll to his father, Hannah very nearly grinned. The boy had been very fond of the cinnamon-and-sugared roll. His father took the offering and sampled it. He nodded with a grunt and several words that Hannah couldn’t understand.

Looking at Night Bear, Hannah could see that his strength was giving out. She turned to the chief. “Your son is injured. He is lucky to be alive—the blow to his head was quite bad.”

The Comanche studied her, as if trying to understand all that she had said. William quickly translated. The chief nodded and motioned his son forward. Night Bear extended his right arm and his father pulled him up and onto the horse’s back.

Night Bear all but fell against his father in exhaustion. The chief looked at Hannah once again. She smiled, hoping he would see that they were sincere in their willingness to be at peace.

“You are not like most of your people.” He held her gaze a moment longer. “We will leave you in peace.”

“Ura,” Hannah said, barely able to draw breath.

The man smiled ever so slightly and looked past Hannah to William. He spoke in the Comanche language, then turned his horse and headed back to the warriors on the hill. Hannah watched him rejoin the others. They conversed for a moment before turning and heading their mounts to the north.

William came to stand beside her, and Hannah asked, “What did he say to you?”

“He Who Walks in Darkness said you were the bravest white woman he’d ever known.” William shook his head. “I think you’re the most foolish.”

Hannah bristled at this. “I was only trying to help.”

“You could just as easily have been killed. The Comanche were here to get the boy. They didn’t care who they had to kill to do so. Night Bear is the only son of the chief. He was on his very first raid. They would have killed all of us to ensure that boy’s safety.”

Hannah put her hands on her hips. Her fear was quickly replaced by anger. “But they didn’t. They realized we meant them no harm. I wanted to show them I was willing to risk death in order to prove to them that I meant to be at peace with them.” She felt rather smug. “The way I see it, it worked.”

“You haven’t lived long in this part of the country, and at this rate you won’t last long.” William shook his head and turned to walk away. “Miss Dandridge, you are a dangerous woman.”

Hannah watched him walk away and turned to Berto. “Your Mr. Barnett is a strange man.”

“He is a good man,” Berto said. “He was afraid for you. The Comanche are not, how you say, peace people. They want back their land—their hunting grounds. They are not happy with the whites.”

“But they have made the peace with us,” Hannah replied. “That should be an encouragement. That should prove that they are capable of negotiating peace with other whites.”

“Miss Hannah, it is not possible, because the whites will not be at peace with the Comanche. Your people hate their people just as much. You know it is true.”

Hannah did know this but hated to admit it. She wanted to believe that something special had happened there. Perhaps the start of peace in the entire territory. Wouldn’t it be a marvel if that were the case? Wouldn’t it be amazing if one act of kindness and mercy led to the settlement of the Indian wars?

To Hannah’s surprise, William stopped and came back to face her. He pointed his finger directly in her face. “You were lucky. That’s all. It wasn’t a matter of bravery or wisdom. What you did was foolish and could have resulted in the death of everyone here. You think yourself clever for having memorized a couple of overheard Comanche words. You probably think you’ve accomplished something miraculous here.”

Hannah wasn’t about to let him know that she had been considering that possibility. “God knew what He was doing, Mr. Barnett.”

“God did, yes. But you didn’t. You just walked out here like you were going to Sunday meeting and expected the entire world to see things your way. Too many people have tried to impose their will on others and have died because of it. You imposed your will and could have seen the death of your brother and sister. Their blood would have been on your hands.”

For a moment Hannah actually considered slapping him. How dare this man come into their lives—a total stranger—and dictate to her how she should conduct herself. It hadn’t been her desire to meet the Comanche chief. She had simply felt compelled—driven, really—to do as she had. It was God’s direction, and Mr. William Barnett was not going to chide her for doing what God had clearly instructed her to do.

“Mr. Barnett, I’m going to overlook your rudeness and mark it down to fear. I will, however, not be judged by you. God is my judge. He alone determines my steps, and if those steps lead me to stand before my enemy, then that is what I will do. Perhaps it’s what I am doing now.”

She sidestepped him and headed for the house. Her heart was a mix of anger and accomplishment. All of her life men had dictated her directions. Her father, although kinder prior to her stepmother’s death, had commanded his family much as a general with an army. When he’d made it clear that Hannah would take care of her siblings, he allowed no room for contradiction or protest. Standing up to William Barnett not only felt good, it felt right. Hannah had defended her choice to follow God’s direction rather than man’s, and it made her feel liberated.

Inside the house, Hannah found Juanita and the children. Andy and Marty ran to her and wrapped themselves around Hannah as if they were drowning.

“We thought the Comanche got you,” Andy declared. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“Did they shoot you with an arrow?” Marty asked, pulling back.

“No. The chief was quite nice to me. He was glad we had taken good care of his son. Because we showed mercy, he showed mercy to us.”

“God be praised,” Juanita said, hugging Pepita close. “Did they leave?”

The woman seemed to search Hannah’s face for any unspoken truth. Hannah nodded and hoped her words would put the woman at ease. “The chief is called He Who Walks in Darkness. He is the father of the boy we cared for. He took his son and they left with the other warriors. He agreed to be at peace with us.”

Juanita let out a heavy breath. “I am so glad. Oh, Miss Hannah, we all were so afraid. Why you go out there?”

Unwilling to be reprimanded again, Hannah straightened and looked at the foursome. “I felt God telling me to go. I was only trying to be obedient to God. The Bible says in Romans eight, ‘If God be for us, who can be against us?’ I believe that God surrounded me with angels of protection.” She looked at the clock. “But for now, we need to get you fed and start your studies.”

“Pepita and I will get the breakfast, Miss Hannah.” Juanita and her daughter headed toward the kitchen.

Hannah looked at her brother and sister and thought again of how close they’d all come to dying. But what should she do now? They had at least a temporary reprieve from Night Bear’s people, but did that mean other bands would leave them alone, as well?

“Let’s get you two dressed and ready for the day. Come on.” She ushered them back up to the loft, where a pitcher of water awaited them. The loft was arranged quite simply. There were three small beds, two chests for clothes, and a small dresser where Hannah kept her things. Walking to the dresser, Hannah picked up her brush.

“Sit here while I arrange your hair,” she told her sister. Marty sat obediently while Hannah combed out her long blond hair and plaited it into two neat braids. Next she helped Marty with her stockings and pantalets.

“Now get your dress and apron on,” Hannah instructed. She left Marty to check on Andy.

Across the room, Andy was struggling to tuck his shirt into his trousers. Hannah gave him a hand. “Now get your boots on and go do your chores.”

Andy looked up at her with a worried expression. “Is it safe now, Hannah?”

She nodded. “Yes. You don’t need to be afraid.”

“Can we go back down to the wash and see if that steer is still caught in the brambles?”

Hannah had forgotten that she had yet to mete out Andy’s punishment for his disobedience. She looked at him with tender affection. “I’ll have Thomas and JD check it out. You are not to go down there again unless an adult is with you. Do you understand? Those washes are dangerous places. When the rains come they fill up fast. Night Bear nearly lost his life falling into one. Your disobedience almost cost you your life. Night Bear is a Comanche warrior. He didn’t know that you weren’t his enemy. Mr. Barnett said that he would have shot you had he not fallen from the horse.”

“I’m sorry, Hannah. I know it was wrong. I promise I won’t do it again.”

She knelt down beside him. “Andy, I believe you. But you will have extra chores each night after supper for two weeks as punishment. Now get going.”

He nodded and hurried to secure his boots. Meanwhile, Hannah returned to Marty and helped her do up the buttons and secure her pinafore. The child was hopeless to keep anything clean and the apron was Hannah’s best hope for not having to wash clothes for the child on a daily basis.

“Are we gonna sew today?” Marty asked.

“Not today. We have laundry and if there’s time, baking. You are going to help me make a cake today, remember?”

Marty’s face lit up in delight. “Are we having a party?”

“Remember, it’s Diego’s birthday tomorrow. We are going to have a cake to celebrate.”

The little girl clapped her hands. “I’m so happy. I love cake.”

Hannah laughed. “I love it, too. Come on. Let’s get your shoes.”

When they joined the others at the table, Hannah could feel Mr. Barnett’s gaze upon her, but she refused to acknowledge him. The memory of his harsh reprimands echoed in her mind, and she was still at a loss as to what they needed to do about his presence at the ranch.

After grace was offered, however, William spoke up and let her know his plans. “I’ll have to go to Dallas one of these days to check on the situation with the ranch. If you would permit me to remain here, I’d be much obliged. I’m certain in time we can figure out the legalities of all of this.”

“Perhaps if you start in Cedar Springs with Mr. Lockhart,” Hannah said, still not looking at the man, “you will get your answers. Mr. Lockhart is my father’s partner in law and real estate. They have a small office in town and I’m certain Mr. Lockhart can assist you in understanding the circumstances.” She didn’t know what to think about William’s request to remain at the ranch. Somehow that didn’t seem right, and yet it also seemed wrong to send him away.

“I cannot have you stay in the house with the children and me. It wouldn’t be proper,” she said, working up the courage to face him. She met his gaze. “However, if you wish to remain here, then I suppose we could make provision for you in the bunkhouse.”

She waited for some outburst, but instead William turned to Diego. “You boys wouldn’t mind having another bunkmate, would you?”

Diego laughed. “Lots of room out there, Boss.”

William turned back to Hannah. “It would appear the matter is settled. At least for now.”

She felt a bit of a shiver go down her spine. Somehow she got the feeling that Mr. Barnett was about to change everything. With William Barnett in the middle of her family’s affairs, Hannah wasn’t at all sure she was any safer than she had been with the Comanche.

“We cannot bake a cake unless we get more flour,” Juanita said. “Do you think the store has any?”

Hannah shrugged and passed a plate of ham to Berto. “It’s hard to say. The supplies come in so seldom these days. If you can spare me from the wash, I’ll have Berto drive me into town and see what’s to be had. I need to check in with Mr. Lockhart anyway and see if . . . if he’s heard from Father.”

“I’ll hitch a ride in with you, if you don’t mind,” William said. “My leg makes walking that distance a bit of a challenge.”

Hannah figured this to be a simple way to make peace with the man. After all, it would be a poor example to continue holding him a grudge. It wouldn’t be the right attitude to show her siblings.

“You are welcome to ride with me, Mr. Barnett. Perhaps Mr. Lockhart will have answers for both of us.”

He nodded and dug into his food without another word. Hannah meanwhile sipped her coffee and hoped that she wasn’t making a grave mistake by involving Herbert Lockhart. She didn’t want trouble, and it seemed trouble always had a way of finding her when that man was involved.

In town, William wasn’t surprised to find folks rather hostile toward him. Those who knew him and his family seemed unwilling to forget that he’d gone to fight for the Union. At the mercantile, Nelson Pritchard, who had once been a good friend to William’s father, barely said two words when William entered the store.

Glancing around the place, William could see that the inventory was low compared to how it had been in the past. Hannah circulated amongst the aisles, picking up an item or two as she went. William watched her, curious. She was certainly feisty.

He observed her hoop skirt sway as she maneuvered through stacks of empty crates. She wasn’t dressed all that fancy, but he thought she cut a fine figure of a woman. He stood waiting near the checker barrel and pondered the situation. There had to be some way to remove the hostilities between them. The chiding he’d given her regarding the Comanche was for her own good. She’d been foolish to walk out into the fracas. Still, if he was going to settle this matter with the ranch, he might very well need to appeal to her kindness.

He’d seen that kindness extended to Night Bear. Surely she could spare a little for him, as well.

“William Barnett. I didn’t think we’d see you in Cedar Springs again,” Mrs. Pritchard said, coming from a back room.

William turned to face the older woman. She offered him nothing more than a disapproving stare. He smiled and gave her a slight nod. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

She gave a huff and maneuvered by him as though he were diseased. “We figured you’d head north and stay there.”

“I’m not a Unionist, Mrs. Pritchard,” William said. “I’m a Texan. And I intend to stay a Texan.”

“Well, a good Texan wouldn’t go off fighting for the Yankees,” she said, tying an apron around her thick waist. “Where’s your father and brother?”

William grimaced. “They were killed in the war. Killed by Confederate soldiers. I was wounded and left crippled. Perhaps I should allow that to make me feel hostile toward you and the others who have supported the South. But frankly, I don’t see that it serves any good purpose.”

“Your people were traitors,” Nelson Pritchard said, joining his wife. “You are a traitor. You put on that Yankee uniform. You got what you deserved.”

“Mr. Pritchard,” Hannah Dandridge interrupted, “do you by any chance have flour?”

“We have a bit, Miss Hannah,” the man replied, turning away from William. “It’s mighty costly.”

“Well, I’ll take some anyway. We have a birthday cake to make for Diego Montoya.”

Pritchard nodded and headed for the flour barrel. “We managed to get some supplies in from some Southern sympathizers out of the Colorado Territory. It’s costing us more than it ought to, but these are hard times.”

William saw Berto enter the store and turned from Mrs. Pritchard to join him. Hannah noticed him at the same time. “Was Mr. Lockhart in his office?” she asked.

“No, señorita. He was not.”

“You lookin’ for Herbert?” Mr. Pritchard asked Hannah.

“Yes. We were hoping to speak with him.”

“He’s gone to Dallas on business. I’ll let him know when he returns that you were looking for him.”

Hannah flushed and refocused her attention on a bushel of apples. “These look quite good. I’ll take a dozen. Oh, and how about cornmeal? I could use a fifty pound sack if you have it.”

William noted her embarrassment regarding Lockhart. Then Pritchard moved in close to Hannah and said something that William couldn’t hear. She nodded and he spoke again. This time she stepped back and shook her head. “No, it’s all right. I’m not worried.”

The storekeeper looked at William and then back to Hannah. “I don’t want you havin’ any trouble.”

“Mr. Pritchard, I’m certain Mr. Barnett will be an asset to us. After all, he cares for the ranch just as we do, and as a good Christian man, he will deal with us honorably.” She looked at William as if to affirm this, but he said nothing.

Once Hannah finished with her shopping, William and Berto carried the supplies out to the wagon. He allowed Berto to hand Hannah up to the wagon seat, wondering at this woman who burned with angry defiance one minute, then defended him the next. Climbing into the back of the wagon, William said nothing as Berto took the driver’s seat once more.

The buildings appeared smaller and smaller as they drove away from town. William watched Cedar Springs pass from sight, soon to be replaced with open range and occasional farms and clumps of trees. Nothing seemed the same; yet he supposed it was bound to change what with time away and the war. He and his father and brother had been gone nearly two years. Two years of blood and guts being spilled in a war he didn’t believe in.

“How can you not believe in the sanctity of the union?” his father had asked him shortly before his death.

It wasn’t a matter of not believing that the states should stay united. It wasn’t even a matter of not desiring to see the slaves set free. William abhorred slavery. No, it was more just feeling that bloodshed and war were not the best resolution to the problem. The entire country was acting like a rebellious child. Why should he be a part of that?

Now he’d returned to all that he loved . . . only to find it, too, taken from him.

He glanced toward the heavens. Where are you, God? Why did you take everything from me? Why did you forsake me?