Broken Feather Page 3

  “Perhaps you could send someone else with us,” he suggested, believing the company of another soldier might make it easier to deal with Sam’s uppity daughter.

  “I can’t spare anyone else. I’ve got to send those horses back to their owner. The Comanche have been too restless lately. We are short of men and it is bad enough I have to allow you to leave, but you are my most trusted scout, so I am sure you are up to the assignment.”

  Vanessa turned in her chair and gave him a scathing glance. “Are you sure you don’t have a white soldier that could escort me just as easily?” she asked her father, dismissing Broken Feather with a disapproving glare.

  “I know you think you can give one of my soldiers the slip, in order to get out of this, Nessie, which is why I am sending Broken Feather. He is not only a trusted scout, but he is one of the best trackers we have. If you do manage to give him the slip, he will track you down and fulfil his duty to me.” He gave her an exacting look that told her he would not tolerate her rebelling against his wishes and would make Broken Feather follow through with his assignment, regardless of what Vanessa did to try and deter him.

  “Stop calling me by that childish nick-name. I am a grown woman now! You are heartless,” she hissed, and turned back to her meal.

  “I’m afraid you may discover that Vanessa could turn out to be a handful,” he sighed to Broken Feather, “but I want her safely married, and then it will be her husband’s duty to watch out for her after that. Hopefully, she will adjust to the situation and end up finding happiness.” He gave Broken Feather, a pat on the back, ignoring his daughter’s rudeness. He had never been able to find happiness in his own arranged marriage, so what made him think Vanessa could do what he had failed at?

  At that remark, Vanessa gave a scornful laugh. “You just want me out of your hair, like you wanted my mother out of your hair. You claim to love us, but I think you believed that we were holding you back from adventure. If you wanted adventure so bad, why did you bother marrying my mother in the first place?”

  “I loved your mother in my own way,” Sam grunted. “Only once I joined the military, I knew I had a duty to my country as well. It was better she remained with my Aunt in Louisiana.”

  “Of course, this is no place for a woman, and you knew it. You came here on purpose so neither she nor I could come with you. And now that I am willing to come here to be with you, you choose to send me away and marry me off to some rancher! “

  “Had she come with me, we would have put you in boarding school, or left you with my aunt. It is one thing to have a wife at a barracks filled with men, but a fly away girl such as yourself, would have been hazardous. You needed your mother there with you in Louisiana, so it was the best arrangement.

  “Now, you are a single, young woman. The men here need to keep their attention focused on business, not let their tongues hang out, fighting for a chance to impress you. Besides, your mother made me realize one thing. A soldier’s life does not lend itself well to accommodating a woman. I do not want to have you ending up falling for some young soldier, here at the fort, and be treated the way I treated your mother.

  “A Soldier’s life can get in his blood too deep sometimes. It is better you set your sights elsewhere, which is why I am recommending you marry my rancher friend. Staying here would give you no choice but to end up marrying a military man. I know the hazards involved. Either you would end up losing your husband too soon, or he would end up having to choose between you and his duty to country. It is better this way, Vanessa, so no more complaining. I have thought this through, and I am not going to change my mind!”

  Vanessa stood up from her chair. “It was nice seeing you again, Papa, even though it will be short-lived. You will need a wagon to transport my trunks, if I am forced to travel across Texas to meet my miserable future, you have planned for me. My mother never should have married you!”

  The words hurt, but Sam was thinking that Vanessa was probably right. He would have done better if he had led a single life, only at the time, neither he nor Glenda had a choice, and that could not be changed now. He stiffened his back, as Vanessa walked towards him, then gave his daughter a kiss on the cheek and handed Broken Feather a map.

  “See that she arrives safely, and make sure she does not back out on the marriage!” he told Broken Feather gruffly.

  Broken Feather, took in a deep breath. This had all come on so suddenly. He had never expected it. One moment he was chasing Comanche renegades, and the next, he was expected to escort a beautiful young white girl across Texas. The way she looked at him as she passed, told him all too clearly that she detested the idea of having to travel with him, though. He had a feeling it was not going to be an enjoyable trip for either of them.

  “I left my trunks at the Stage station in Brackettville,” she told Broken Feather as he escorted her out the door.

  “I will have to load up supplies before we leave,” he told her. “Wait for me here,” he said, motioning to a bench situated outside the barracks. “I will try not to take too long.”

  Broken Feather headed towards the stable yard to collect the wagon and hitch a horse up to it. He glanced over his shoulder at Captain Renton’s daughter. She sat on the bench, not looking as regale as she had when he first laid eyes on her. Her shoulders were hunched and the way they were shaking, he could tell she was crying. Only he had no power to change her destiny. If he did not obey Captain Renton’s orders, he might as well forget about being a scout. At the looks of his own future, he may end up being with the army for a very long time so he couldn’t risk losing his position. He could feel Vanessa’s frustration, though. Sometimes life was unrelenting.

  Vanessa watched as Broken Feather put her trunks on the wagon. She marveled that he lifted them up as though they weighed nothing. She could see his muscles bulging against the sleeves of his leather shirt. It reminded her of the strong slaves they once owned, who had bulging muscles and could do the work of two men.

  One, in particular, she felt sorry for because she could see crisscross scars of the whip across his back, when he went without a shirt. They called him Seth and he was what was known as a quadroon, having more white blood than black. However, she had learned to steel herself against sights like that. According to plantation owners, blacks were less than human and more like cattle that you had to train, no matter what amount of black blood they had. They couldn’t read, and they spoke the Gullah language that was barely decipherable, and on top of that, they sang incessantly. However, the songs had grown on her and she often sat on the veranda listening to the slaves singing in the field.

  “Do you know how to read,” Vanessa asked abruptly, out of the blue.

  Broken Feather looked over his shoulder at her as he pushed the trunk into place. “Why do you ask?” he mumbled, giving her a crooked smile.

  “I was just wondering. Slaves were never allowed to learn how to read or write, and very few black servants can read either.”

  “I am not a slave or servant,” Broken Feather grumbled, even though he felt like a servant to the United States government. “Of course, I can read.” He had the mission nuns in Mexico to thank for that, he thought. “I not only read the English language, but I can read Spanish as well. How do you think I am able to follow your father’s map and instructions, if I can’t read?”

  Vanessa shrugged. “Sorry, I was just curious, is all.” Her estimation of him started to rise a little. At least he was educated, she thought appraisingly.

  “Is there anything else you would like to know about me before we start this adventure?” he asked, eyeing her.

  “How old are you?” He looked young, but rather experienced by the way he seemed so capable at whatever he was doing.

  “I am twenty-five. I have been working as a scout for five years now. It was supposed to be temporary until we could be placed in the Seminole Nation and given our own land. Now it seems like that promise is never going to be fulfilled.”

  “Surely you d
on’t expect the Government to give a black person land, do you?”

  “In the beginning the Maroons were promised their freedom and land if they surrendered and relocated in Oklahoma. That was never granted them, so they fled to Mexico. Once again we are given more promises if we help the army fight against wayward Indians, and still no promises have been kept.

  “I can see you are right. The government wants us to give up our fight for land of our own, and help them fight their own battles, while offering us empty promises. I didn’t realize they hated the blacks so much. After all, we have served them for hundreds of years against our will, but we are worthless in their eyes, unless we are still serving them.”

  “When I was little I had a close friend who was a slave. You remind me of him a little. Only he was sold and I never saw him again. I have discovered it is not wise to get tangled up with black people. If you don’t own them or they don’t work for you, they are considered a liability. Therefore, I hope you don’t think you are going to be able to strike up a friendship with me. You are merely supposed to transport me to my destination.”

  “Yus, Ma’am.ah is jus a no’count blaky of leetle wut in yo aze.”

  “You don’t have to be impertinent,” she muttered, to cover up her own bad manners.

  Broken Feather turned back to his work. She had made it perfectly clear that she had no use for him except to protect her and take her to her destination. Only she was not much better off than he was, he thought. She, too, was being forced to bow to those in power, regardless of her own wishes. He actually felt sorry for her.

  “I’ll put the horse and wagon in the livery stable,” he mumbled. “Then I’ll get you a room at the Horseshoe Room and Saloon.”

  “It sounds lovely,” she grumbled.

  “You are the one who chose to come here,” he reminded her.

  “I suppose I should have stayed at the plantation and starved, instead,” she shrugged.

  “Maybe there would have been a man of your liking in Louisiana you could have married,” he suggested.

  “Ah, yes, if I had only known I was supposed to select one to save me from my poverty. I thought I had a father to do that. I should have known better.”

  “He only wants the best for you. I hear Texas ranchers are rather wealthy now that the train can take their cattle to the slaughter house, saving them a lot of work and money. There is a healthy demand for meat from here to the east.”

  “I don’t care how wealthy the man is. I refuse to marry someone I don’t even know, and my father, nor you, are going to force me to do it!”

  “I suppose you have other plans?”

  “Whatever they are, they don’t include marrying a stranger.”

  “In that case,” Broken Feather stated, “you don’t have any need for my services.” He started pulling the trunk off the wagon. “Your father gave me a job to do. I am not going to fight you over his orders. So he can just get someone else to deal with your disrespect of his wishes.”

  “Disrespect! He disrespected my mother and me, when he left us so he could be a part of the all so important army! Why should I respect any of his wishes? I just turned twenty years old, which makes me old enough to do as I please.”

  “At what peril? You want to end up dead or captured by the Indians? Besides, I think you have to be twenty-one to be considered an adult.”

  “Oh, phooey! I made it this far on my own, whether I am twenty-one-years-old or not,” she huffed.

  “Texas is not a safe place to be without a man to keep watch over you. Maybe you would have better luck if you just returned to Louisiana.”

  “Maybe I will!”

  “Do you want me to see about getting you a stage ticket?”

  Vanessa sank down on the bench in front of the station.

  “It’s six to one and a half dozen to the other,” she sobbed. “No matter how I look at it, I am doomed!”

  “Getting married to a worthy man, as your father seems to think Jason Mills is, can’t be considered being doomed. Why don’t you wait until after you meet him, before you decided against it. If you truly hate him, once you arrive, I will send you on a stage back to Louisiana, myself.”

  Vanessa looked up at him with unshed tears shimmering in her eyes. She gave a little sigh, knowing she actually had no other choice but to do as her father ordered her to do. A woman on her own was powerless. “Put the trunk back,” she mumbled. “I guess I am just going to have to swallow the medicine whether I like it or not.”

  Broken Feather pushed the trunk back in place, and then led the horse, pulling the wagon over to the livery stable and made arrangements to leave it there overnight. When he returned, Vanessa looked more composed, as she stood up from the bench, clutching her carpet bag in her hand.

  “Lead the way,” she said, trying to smile, handing Broken Feather her carpet bag.

  Broken Feather offered her his elbow, wondering if she would actually take it. She surprised him when she grabbed hold, as though she needed his support in more ways than one. The feel of her small hand on his arm caused an unexplainable tingle to go through him. However, her opinion of him had already put a wall between them and he decided he needed to follow her advice and not try to make friends with her.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “What do you intend to do with that chair?” Vanessa asked, as Broken Feather placed it beside the door of the room he had just gotten for her.

  “Your father said I should station myself outside your door to keep the riffraff from bothering you. I am not going to stand her all night, so I brought me something to sit in.”

  “Are you actually going to sit there all night? That is outrageous! You won’t get a bit of sleep, so how are you going to be alert when you drive me out into the wilderness where an Indian might decide to scalp me, probably after he rapes me? I am sure no one is going to try and break down the door to get to me. However, if you are so worried about my safety, you can come in and sleep at the foot of my bed.”

  “Like a faithful dog?” he asked snidely.

  “Something, like that,” she responded in like manner.

  “I should probably stay out here. Your father wouldn’t like it if I…”

  “Fiddlesticks! Papa is not here! I don’t plan to see him again for a very long time, if ever. I am not going to have you lose sleep and be useless to me in the morning. Besides, you are under my command now.”

  “Indians can go for several days without sleep,” he informed her.

  “That doesn’t mean it does not affect their alertness. I am not going to argue with you. Once I am dressed for bed, I will tap on the door. You can count to ten while I get in bed, then come in and lock the door. I will put some pillows and blankets on the floor at the foot of my bed for you. It may not be that comfortable, but will be better than sitting in a chair all night.”

  Broken Feather shrugged. “Whatever you say,” he mumbled, opening the door for her, and then sitting in the chair to await her tap on the door.

  After the tap, he counted to ten and then slowly opened the door. The room was dim, just a single oil lamp beside the bed on a small table lit the room, and Vanessa had turned it down, so it cast dim shadows on the walls as the flame wavered. He could see the blankets and a pillow at the foot of the bed, and he smiled. He had slept in worse conditions than this before. Before he sat down on the blankets to take off his moccasins, he glanced around the room. Her black dress and frilly petticoats lay across a chair. The sight of them made his heart quicken, so he looked away, and focused on the bed, where Vanessa sat, leaning against the headboard with the covers pulled up to her chin.

  “I hope you don’t snore,” she said.

  She knew it had not been proper to invite the scout into her room, but at this point, she was so angry at her father, she didn’t really care. If her reputation became sullied over it, what difference did it make? She was already practically married to her father’s friend. She hoped her father heard about Broken Feather sleeping i
n her room, just to irk him. Then she felt bad, for fear Broken Feather may get in trouble with her father for doing so, if he ever discovered it.

  Broken Feather sank down and sat on the floor, feeling he had violated her by just looking at her sitting in her bed, knowing she wore nothing but a night dress. He began occupying himself with removing his moccasins. He could still see Vanessa’s long, flowing hair, in a tangle of curls, falling around her shoulders, in his mind’s eye. He longed to touch that hair. A forbidden thought, he knew, as he admonished himself for even thinking it. He tried to push the thought out of his mind, as he attempted to make himself comfortable, placing his head on the pillow and pulling one of the blankets over his shoulder.

  “Did your mother ever sing to you when you were little?” he heard Vanessa’s soft voice disrupt the disturbingly fast beating of his heart.

  “My mother was a Seminole Indian. They don’t have songs like white people do, but she would hum made-up tunes to me sometimes. My grandfather knew many of the old songs his people used to sing. They were mostly spiritual songs, and I heard him singing them from time to time.”

  “I had a Mammy who cared for me when I was growing up,” she told him, feeling alone and nostalgic for some kind of family tie. “She used to sing to me all the time. I loved listening to her deep, soothing, voice when she sang. To put me to sleep, she would always sing the same song to me, and now, to think of it, it makes me sad.”

  “I wouldn’t mind hearing it, if you would be willing to sing it to me,” Broken Feather murmured. He liked listening to the sound of her voice, and wanted to hear her sing.

  “I could never do it justice, the way Mammy Sue could, but I’ll try,” she half whispered.

  Then Broken Feather could hear her start to softly sing, first very quietly and then louder as the song progressed. The very sound of her voice made goose bumps jump out on his arms.