Chapter Text
1892
Captain Joseph Blocker grabbed the caboose's iron railing and swung up just as the train began to pull out of the station. He paused, steeling himself, and entered the car. The woman and boy weren't in it. He walked through the car to the next and then the next until he finally found them. He seated himself across from the pair and with effort tried to find words to address a situation he didn't understand himself.
He wasn't any kind of family man, and taking on an ill-used woman and a stateless boy might be the biggest mistake in a life littered with mistakes. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and then began.
"The way I figure it, none of us has a real chance at happiness alone. Back before I mustered out, I planned to get myself a little piece of land, collect my army pension, and drink myself to death." He uttered a dry little laugh. Wrong, dumb shit; are you trying to put her off? Try again.
Rosalee listened without saying a word, her eyes overbright.
"Trouble is, I've seen men do that and I don't admire it. I like a drink as well as the next man, but the things I've seen and done don't go away when I drink. It's worse when I sleep. I'm hesitant to ask any woman to share my bed, married to her or not. It's not safe for her."
He realized that made him sound like a libertine, and that wasn't the way to convince Rosalee to cast her lot with him. He veered off the subject of marriage. "It'll be worse for Little Bear. He was born behind bars and just lost both his parents. If you take him to Chicago, he'll be nothing but a curiosity. Now, you're a fine woman and you'd be a good mother to him, but he needs more than just you can give him."
No, this wasn't going the way Blocker planned. Hell, there was no plan; the words just tumbled out. At least the boy couldn't understand him. Rosalee watched Blocker's face and remained quiet.
"What I want to say is this—don't go to Chicago. Let's get off in St. Paul, the three of us. My parents left me a little farm in western Minnesota. I'm not much of a farmer, but I have my Army pension. I could maybe run a small herd of cattle. The boy will do better in the country, not being gawked at by a bunch of city folk."
Rosalee's face was still, but she didn't appear to be looking for the word "No."
"It's not far from Sioux country. Dakota, they call themselves. The boy's Cheyenne, but they're allies. He comes from powerful blood—he'll get respect as the grandson of Yellow Hawk. We have to think about who he'll marry one day."
We. Taking it for granted that she was on board with his plan. He searched her face, aware of a slight but growing sense of desperation. She could say no. If she did, he'd just have to swallow his pride and slink away at the next train stop.
He lowered his voice. "I know this isn't the way a woman likes to hear a man say he wants to marry her. You had my back when the Loundes killed Corporal Thomas and the boy's folks, and I'm grateful. I'm not nearly good enough for you, but if you can stand a man who isn't, who knows he isn't, who'll spend the rest of his life living up to you, then—"
She said, "I accept."
A tightness in his chest that he hadn't been aware of relaxed. He leaned back on the bench, huffed out a breath he'd been holding, and permitted himself a small smile. She smiled back at him.
Blocker's smile widened.
"It's Little Bear's life, too," she said. "Maybe we should ask him if he agrees."
Blocker nodded, and spoke to the boy in his own language. "Mrs Quaid and I are talking about bringing you home with us, to my parents' farm. Being a family. Being your family. Do you understand?"
Little Bear said, "For how long?" His face was expressionless but he moved an infinitesimal bit nearer Rosalee's hip.
Blocker said, "For as long as you want." He noticed Rosalee's hand by the boy's side, holding him closer. There would be no separating these two. He waited for the boy's reply.
"You are my family," Little Bear finally said.
Blocker had to agree; after all, who else was there? Find the boy's kin? His own best efforts and the U.S. government had made sure that there were damn few Indians left. Blocker would carry the guilt to the end of his days. Little Bear was right, though: thanks to Blocker's defense of the boy's family and the blood spilled that day, they were relatives now.
Blocker bought a ticket to St. Paul and had the conductor amend Rosalee's ticket to disembark there as well. "I know I shall like Minnesota," she said. "New Mexico Territory was too dry to farm." After that, she didn't say another word. Blocker knew she couldn't talk about her life before her widowhood and he didn't press her.
He made plans for their new life like a general mapping a campaign, and there was Rosalee's reputation to consider. He had cousins in Minneapolis that she could stay with until they married. Perhaps they could simply marry at the courthouse. His cousin and her husband could be their witnesses. What would his family make of Little Bear?
To fill the silence he went on, "I said the Dakota were nearby. But they're not neighbors. Not neighborly, I mean. During the Rebellion, we had our own little war in Minnesota. The Sioux Uprising, it was called. I wasn't there—I was at Bull Run and then Antietam when it happened. I was fifteen."
"So young! You've been a soldier your whole life."
He nodded. "I was a good soldier. I always did my job as best I could and felt next to nothing for the enemy. But I tell you true—the Dakota were cheated out of rations promised them by treaty. That was when my oldest sister Beth was minding the farm while Ben was fighting in the South, and four bucks came to the farm, starving."
Rosalee stiffened, but listened with an impassive face.
Blocker went on, "They wanted food. Beth had just put dinner on the table when they came. Her boys were in the fields and hadn't returned. The men ate like a flock of locusts, and she put out everything edible, then went into the bedroom. She sat with Ben's shotgun across her knees, waiting."
Rosalee shifted and looked away, but didn't speak. Blocker knew she was reliving her capture by the fur trappers. He hastened to say, "Nothing happened. They ate and left. That fall she found a dressed doe hanging from the porch rafter. It was repayment for feeding the men."
He finished, "It was good to reconcile with Yellow Hawk before he died. He was a fine man... and I still can't believe I'm hearing myself say that. But I have to remind myself that that war, the Rebellion, the Uprising—we all lost."
Little Bear had fallen asleep, leaning against the train's window. Rosalee changed seats, seated herself next to Blocker, and slid her hand into his.
Blocker looked forward to the premarital doctor's examination. While not precisely fastidious, he had a secret horror of Cupid's diseases, stemming from fellow soldiers' descriptions of the grueling treatment for gonorrhea. Appalled, Blocker stuck to Mother Thumb and her four daughters, and other than the occasional companionship of a clean and grateful laundress at Fort Winslow (and even with her he used a "French letter") he never solicited fancy women. He was filled with contempt for soldiers who molested native women. Killing was one thing, rape another.
Mainly, he wanted Rosalee to be seen. Surely with what the trappers put her through, she was in need of medical attention. In matters of the heart he was a shy man, and had no way to ask her if she would welcome him into her bed. He couldn't ask her, but a medical man, or better yet, a female doctor might be able to help. There had been a Dr. Crumpler in Richmond who attended freedmen. He had no idea where she practiced now, but there was bound to be a female doctor in St. Paul or Minneapolis. He was uncomfortably aware that his desire to effect a cure for Rosalee might be seen as self-serving. His pleasure would be increased if he knew that she didn't simply endure his presence in bed.
Disgusted, he reminded himself that it was to both their benefit. Now that she had agreed to marry him, he couldn't think of much else except what it would be like to make love to her. But if she were repelled by intimacy, he would wait for as long as it took. (True, there was that kiss or two exchanged in his tent after Metz's death, kisses without escalation. He was pretty sure that was just Rosalee trying to comfort him, not any real desire on her part.)
Best think of other things, he thought. They'd need two beds, no three. He tried to remember his parents' house. A room for Little Bear with one bed, and two beds in his parents' room for him and Rosalee. He didn't want to lash out in his sleep and give her a black eye. He'd have to warn her not to shake him awake when he had nightmares.
Provisions for winter, warm clothing, chalk and a slate, books. Perhaps they could stay at his sister's until spring? No, he wanted Rosalee to himself, and the boy, of course.
It occurred to him that the boy wouldn't be Little Bear forever. Cheyenne boys underwent a manhood ceremony and were given a new name. That wouldn't be happening. He wondered how the boy would fare in an all-white world. Perhaps he would pick a new name himself. Blocker noticed that Little Bear had not let go of the Bellum Gallicum, his gift to the boy. Maybe he'd choose to be called Julius.
Coal, linens, winter crops. Enough food to see them through until spring. A Winchester. He remembered fat deer in the fall and ruffed grouse. His mouth watered.
Rosalee had returned to the seat across Blocker, and put her arm around Little Bear. The boy leaned away from the window and slumped against her lap, still sleeping. She laced her fingers together to hold him, then closed her eyes.
The main thing was to protect them. Blocker thought of the bloodbath that the Loundes brought on themselves, and wondered if their deaths would be connected with Blocker's trip north to return Yellow Hawk. Hell, Rosalee fired the first shot! A halfway competent investigator would find the scene littered with dead Loundes and Cheyennes in traditional burial, but what would they make of Corporal Thomas's grave? Cheyenne didn't bury their enemies, so Thomas's grave spoke of white involvement.
He hoped Lounde's widow, or other sons—God forbid—wouldn't think to hire Pinkerton or the like.
Well, there were no witnesses other than Blocker himself, Rosalee, and the boy. Let them try to make a case against them. He'd lie himself blue in the face, and Rosalee was no chatterbox.
Blocker looked at his family-to-be sleeping on the bench across from him, and decided to follow suit. He closed his eyes.
Three days later, the train reached St. Paul. Blocker's cousin's family was friendly and quite curious about him and his exotic traveling companions. The Uprising was a full generation behind them, and other than sensational newspapers and Buffalo Bill's Wild West, they knew next to nothing about life on the frontier. It was an exciting diversion—a woman widowed in the west and a real live Indian boy! This side of the family was citified, and while he was grateful to them for putting them up for a few days, he wouldn't be sorry to see the last of them. Beth and Ben's farm was near his own, and he hoped for congenial relations between their family and his own. Farmers need good neighbors.
Blocker and Rosalee spent the early evening deflecting eager inquiries about their so-called Western adventures. Pleading fatigue from days of travel, they were allowed to retire to their rooms soon after supper. Little Bear never said a word, but Blocker thought he could read in the boy's eyes, What is this place? Still, friendly faces, plentiful food, and a soft bed couldn't come amiss. Blocker thought, The sooner we reach home, the sooner we can have some peace. He didn't deceive himself that farm life would be easy, but the thought of the three of them, finally sitting down to a meal at their own table without having to make pleasantries with virtual strangers, tugged at his heart.
In the morning, Blocker took his family to a doctor. (A man; no female doctor could be found.) He wanted a word alone with the fellow, wanting to discreetly inform him about Rosalee's circumstances, but found himself virtually tongue-tied. He finally got out, "She's been through a lot. I want her to be well." He compressed his lips. Stupid.
Blocker himself was fine. The doctor did warn him about something called "high blood," measuring it with a disturbing gadget called a sphygmograph. Warning him about needless worry, the doctor said high blood would shorten his life. Advised him to be calm. Worrying kept me alive, Blocker thought in irritation. Plenty of time for calm later on.
The boy was seen as well. Blocker had had a creeping fear of the consumption that ran rife on most reservations, but the boy had lived his whole life at Fort Berringer, and while lacking freedom and the basic respect due a human being, had at least enjoyed a doctor's care.
At last Rosalee emerged from the examination room. Blocker paid and they left. On the streetcar back to his cousins', Rosalee said only, "I'm fine." She added in a low voice, "I am not with child." After a long pause, she added, "Or infected." She pressed her lips together and didn't say another word.
Blocker nodded and took her hand. He didn't ask for an explanation, but remembered his resolve that in bedroom matters, Rosalee would decide.
They spent the rest of the day buying things needed for their new life: better boots, work clothes (earlier, she had outfitted Little Bear like a city boy in a suit already too tight), and household things. A ring. Reaching his cousins', Blocker learned that they'd spoken to their minister, and that the marriage could be performed the following morning. He smiled and thanked them, but thought wryly of another evening of small talk.
The wedding was at nine and Rosalee looked beautiful, but then she always did. Reflecting on the ceremony afterwards, he had no idea what he said or promised, but he thought of his resolve to protect her and Little Bear.
The hired girl had prepared an elaborate wedding breakfast. It would have been rude to beg off, so Blocker and his family ate, but they were able to excuse themselves before long, thanking their hosts and saying they had a noon train to catch.
He found that couldn't take his eyes off Rosalee during the train ride, so to spare her discomfort, he turned to Little Bear and spoke to him in his language. "Your life has changed. I hope you'll be happy with your mother and me. It would be good to learn her language now, so that you can speak it with other boys your age when you go to school. I promise you, though, we'll talk Cheyenne among ourselves, every day, so you don't forget."
Little Bear said, "Yes, I will learn the language."
"Good. Mother will learn yours, too.” He nodded toward her, and went on, “She wants to be able to speak with you."
Listening, Rosalee asked, "Náhko'e? That means 'mother'?"
"Yes, and you can call him nae'ha - 'my son.' I was telling him that he needs to learn English, and that you'll learn Cheyenne. He shouldn't forget. He may want to find his relatives someday. If any."
She nodded. "The doctor told me that Little Bear should do everything he could to forget his family and fit into ours. I didn't disagree with him, but I don't think that's realistic."
Blocker's mouth twisted. "Right. You don't forget. You live with your memories as best you can."
Two hours later, the train pulled into Fairfax. He picked the town because it was big enough to have a livery stable. The proprietor gave them a hard look when he saw Little Bear, but said nothing. Blocker was permitted to hire a rig, and picked one big enough to accommodate their bundles. He headed out, to Beth and Ben's farm ten miles west.
From the looks of things, they had prospered. Beth came out to see who her visitors were, and declared that she hardly recognized her little brother Joe! She welcomed Rosalee with a hug, and controlled her surprise at finding an Indian boy with them. Blocker gave her the bare minimum of explanation, and asked after their parents' farm.
"Well, the house is still standing! We meant to repaint this summer, but now you're back, you can." She laughed. "Jack, my oldest boy" - she explained to Rosalee - "lived there when he first married. They wanted a farm near here, but land prices are sky high. They didn't want to go west, you see, or go into debt—Jack's wife's parents were getting on, and they mostly wanted a place to hang their hats until they could take over their old place." She clapped a hand over her mouth. "Heavens, I make them sound like vultures! What they really wanted was mother and father's place, but you told me to keep it for you, Joe, and I respected that. You sent us enough money over the years that we were able to keep the house in good repair."
"That's fine. Thank you, Beth." He kissed his sister's cheek. "We just want to beg a meal, take our baggage to the farm, and return this rig to the stable. If you'd be so kind as to follow us there and bring us home, we'd be grateful. It feels as though we've been traveling for weeks." And so they had, but there was no need to tell her of the journey with Yellow Bear. Best she just think he was returning home with his new bride, and a son they acquired in the west. That was all anyone needed to know.
Rosalee helped Beth put on a late lunch, and her husband Ben returned from the fields. Ben and Blocker shared the unspoken bond of one former soldier to another. What was there to say? They both had their limbs and eyesight and had understanding women to share their lives. They were rich. If they relived their wars every night in their sleep, it was still a life.
Beth got her brother alone for a minute that afternoon and asked in a hushed undertone, "Is that boy hers?"
"He is now." To soften the curt words he added, "He's an orphan we're adopting."
Beth said warmly, "Why, Joe! That's good of you.”
Blocker shrugged. "Not good. I'm only doing what I want.”
They returned the rented rig to the livery stable, and climbed into Ben's wagon. Beth handed him a box with a still-warm bean pot, a loaf of bread wrapped in a clean tea towel, and a pie. "Wedding supper!" She looked at Little Bear and said, "I hope you like apple pie, young man." To Blocker she said, "The garden's neglected, but it's not too late in the season to turn it around. The fields have been fallow since Jack moved away, but there's still potatoes, I believe. With salt pork and canned stuff, it should be enough to see you through the winter."
Ben clucked to the horses and the wagon pulled out.
"We're only three miles from Ben and Beth,” Blocker told his wife. As Ben drove over a rise, Blocker pointed out the lane turning in to the farm, wooded by the side of the road and the lane entrance. "We have 160 acres sloping down to the Minnesota River. Can't farm further down where it slopes too much, but the hunting is good down in the bottom lands.” He grinned at Little Bear. "I’ll teach you to shoot when you’re older, " then repeated the words in Cheyenne.
Rosalee said, "Everything is so green! After New Mexico Territory, it's like paradise.”
Blocker smiled, pleased that she liked it. As they approached the farmhouse he tensed up a bit, but was happy to find the house intact. The ridge beam was straight and the house looked sturdy. He remembered wind storms of his youth. Houses out here needed to be well-built to withstand blizzards.
Ben said, "If you'd wired that you were coming, Beth would have got the place clean for you. Don't think it's been swept since our boy lived here. Should be a few sticks of furniture, though, a table and a bedstead, and I think a pallet bed in the attic, but not much else. Good thing you bought mattresses.”
Blocker and Ben started unloading the wagon. Rosalee grabbed a boxful of kitchen things and called out, "Tea in twenty minutes!" The men carried in boxes, bundles, and two rolled mattresses tied with rope. As Blocker lifted the last box out of the wagon, he could see smoke already curling out of the chimney.
As they were carrying, Ben said, "No stock, of course. No animals but for some barn cats. But that's good, no mice." He laughed. "There's a livestock show coming up, county seat. I'll fetch you and bring you back, unless you buy a team and drive yourself.”
"Thanks. I mean to,” said Blocker, as they carried the last of the bundles inside.
Tea was drunk, thanks were given, and they were finally alone. Rosalee's smile became a little fixed. "Go. Explore!" she said to Little Bear, giving him a little push. The boy left the house, looked up at the prairie sky.
Rosalee came into Blocker's arms and looked into his face. "I know you're worried about" - she inclined her head toward the bedroom. "Don't be." Her arms tightened around him. "Nothing will bring my family back, but I love you and I'm so grateful to you." She reddened and said, "I want a child. Several, if possible." She blushed more deeply. "That came out wrong. You're not a prize bull." She gave him a lopsided smile.
"You don't have to—" he began, but she went on, "I'm nearly thirty. Little Bear may not stay with me—probably won't, if he goes to find his people, or a bride. I want another daughter, so much." Her voice caught, then she got control of herself. "If it's a boy we could call him Joe."
"Rosalee, I understand. Whatever you want."
"Let me get supper. It's been a long day." Her glance was veiled.
While their supper was warming, Blocker helped her tuck linens over their bed, resolving to get two smaller beds. Remembering that he needed to sleep separately so he wouldn't flail in his sleep when the nightmares were upon him. For tonight, he could sleep in a chair. After… well, after.
Blocker called Little Bear in from the dooryard and they ate.
Rosalee showed the boy the attic bedroom where he would sleep, with a low bed she made up with fresh sheets and a quilt. She stroked his hair and said, "Welcome home, nae'ha. My son."
She whispered to herself, "He hasn't spoken one word of love, but his actions proclaim it. He is a fine man. I'll be a good wife to him, and you're already a good boy." She tucked the quilt more firmly around Little Bear. "The important thing is that you're safe. We're safe."
Finally, it was bedtime. Joe was tender and slow, touching Rosalee as though she were made of glass, and she responded to him strongly. When he finally slid into her, she murmured, "Oh, lovely!"