Long Journey Home, page 6
“I’m afraid I can’t get used to seeing you in that garb, my dear. I’m used to hearing the rustle of your skirts when you move. Now I hear nothing.”
“Well, you’ll just have to get used to it. Until I can get back home and have Bess make me some decent dresses, this is all I have. Besides, it’s warm and soft and I like it. I may continue to wear it even after I get back to the fort. Wouldn’t that be something?” she laughed.
“Oh, yes, the men at the fort would love that, I’m sure.”
As if reading her mind, he stated somberly, “We’ve been through a lot, haven’t we, Delia?”
“That’s what I was thinking, too. Remember our first meeting? At the ball that night?”
“I try to forget,” he replied. “Your contempt was only thinly veiled, I’m afraid.”
“I detested you, you know.”
“Obviously. But that is a matter that has changed, has it not?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder,” she said, teasing him again. Then she continued, “I was wrong about you, George. And if I’ve never apologized to you, please allow me to do that now. Please forgive my dreadful behavior toward you back then. I behaved rudely toward you. I am sorry for that. You’re right. A lot has changed since then.”
Her thoughts flew to her husband. Back when she first met George, she’d danced in her husband’s arms, happily whirling, and turning across the dance floor. Oh, how she longed for that night now.
“Do you think he’s alive, George?” she asked. “Do you think there’s any possibility he’s alive?”
After a long pause, he replied, “No, I don’t. I’m sorry, Delia, but I don’t.”
She sighed deeply before continuing. “I suppose you’re right, but I still can’t accept it. It’s all so… unfinished. Unresolved. I know many women have experienced what I’m going through. Especially in the war, I know that many women lost their husbands in battle, never knowing if they were dead or alive. They have to find the strength to carry on, though. Just as I’m doing now. They have to contemplate the loneliness and uncertainty. They have to ask themselves if they are widows or not. They have to look into the sky and wonder if somewhere he’s out there looking into the face of the same moon, the same stars. I can’t tell you what that’s like, George.”
“I can only imagine, my dear,” he said softly. “If this had happened to Libby, I don’t know how I could bear it. I really don’t. And if I were the one who was missing, or, for whatever reason, was lost to her, I’d want her to carry on with the hope that one day I’d find my way back to her. So I truly can’t advise you in this regard. I can only sympathize with you. Once again, let me say how sorry I am that I was unable to bring him back to you.”
“Oh, I know you did everything you could to find him, George. You’ve been a good friend.”
“I’ll never forget the look on his face that morning you kissed me on the cheek. Good man. Held his anger in check. But I could see it.”
Cordelia shook her head as if she could somehow remove that vision. “I should never have done that. I was just so grateful to you. You’d just saved me from those renegades the night before and that day you’d saved the Cheyenne from certain death by the hands of our own soldiers. I just couldn’t thank you enough. Still, I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
“Probably not. Though I enjoyed it immensely!” he grinned at her.
“I’ll bet you did. That caused a huge rift between Robert and me for some time. He couldn’t seem to forgive me for that. I couldn’t understand why he was so angry back then. But now I see it. It was completely inappropriate—and… disrespectful to him. And oh, how I wish I could take it back. How I wish we hadn’t squandered that time being angry. If I’d only known…
She surrendered herself to the sobs then.
He moved beside her on the little bench. “Delia, please don’t cry.”
“I’m sorry,” she sniffed. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do this.”
“I remember how you looked that day I came across you in the stable. You’d been currying Sunburst and there you were, sitting on that tub with dirt smeared across your face and your hands caked with it, holding the brush. What a fetching sight you were!” he laughed.
“You always could bring out the worst in me, George—always goading me into an argument.” She grinned at him merrily.
“Hey, that’s wasn’t my fault. You did that all by yourself.”
“Of course I did,” she smiled. “You were completely innocent.”
“Absolutely!”
They both silently slipped into their own memories. After several minutes, he continued in a soft voice, “And then there was the evening under the stars that night on the trip down here. That was the evening I swore to you that I’d never kiss you again. I’d never let happen what happened between us the night before.”
“George, we shouldn’t speak of that. That kiss was as much my fault as yours. It’s in the past now and it should stay there.”
“I know. It’s just that… seeing you now, bathed in firelight, and not knowing when or if we’ll ever see each other again, I wish I’d never given you that promise.”
Looking into his face, she longed to hold him, to feel his arms around her, but those feelings ebbed as the memory of her husband filled her mind’s eye.
With another sigh, she placed her hand over his. “And now, it’s come to this. You’re right. We may never see each other again, George. I owe you so much and care for you so deeply. But all I can do now is pray that God will keep you safe from harm and take you back to Libby’s arms very soon.”
“Ah, a place I long to be, I assure you. You know, this is the longest the two of us have ever been apart. I miss her terribly, I confess. I write to her every day.”
“Do you?” Cordelia asked, surprised.
“Certainly! They are long letters—long and boring, I’m sure. But they speak of my yearning for her, of my life on the plains, and I’ve even told her of my friend, Cordelia Lawson. She’s terribly jealous, I think.” The laughter was back in his eyes now.
“Is she?”
George laughed—a cheerful, lighthearted laugh. “No, I think not. She knows that there will always be only one woman for me. And that she possesses me completely. But if it weren’t for her…”
He held Delia’s hand to his lips for just a moment and left his sentence unfinished.
“I’m afraid I must be going now, my dear.” Standing, he gathered his things into the basket once again and pulled on his gloves. “You’ll be happy to know that the general has issued orders for your wagon to be packed with supplies for your journey home. Somebody has to take care of you. After all, you’re just a woman, you know.”
Deciding not to rise to the bait, she gave him a sweet, tender smile instead.
“Goodbye, George. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me—for everything you’ve meant to me.” Tears spilled down her cheek in genuine sorrow at this final moment with him.
For a second, he was actually speechless.
She said through her tears, “I’ll never forget you, General Custer.”
“Nor I you, Cordelia Lawson. Who knows? Someday soon I may find my way back to Fort Cobb. And I’ll expect you to invite me to one of those fine dinners with Bess’s cooking when I do.”
Laughingly, she agreed.
“Goodbye, Cordelia.”
As he turned to leave, she blurted, “George!”
“Please?” she cried and held her arms out to him. He dropped the basket, reaching her in two long strides. Silently they held each other.
Cordelia sobbed into his shoulder. It seemed so long since she’d felt a man’s arms around her. It felt so safe, so comforting. They quietly stood that way for a couple of minutes.
“I’ll miss you, George. I really will,” she told him softly.
“I know. I feel the same.”
He kissed her on the forehead and told her he felt sure they would see each other again someday. Then he turned and walked out the door and out of her life. Closing the door after him, she leaned against it and gave in to the sobs that tore at her throat once more. Perhaps that’s all life really was—a series of goodbyes.
Five
Cordelia’s trip home began the next morning. She had no need to take one last look behind her. Everything she cared about lay ahead of her. As they edged past a beautiful lake the Indians called Lawtonka, she was captivated by its peacefulness in the morning mist.
As they continued their steady northward progress, Cordelia had lots of time to think. Surveying the wondrous countryside around her, she gloried in the Lord’s creation, praising Him for making such a glorious place. Heaven, she’d been told, would make this old earth seem shoddy and ugly. Looking around her on this crisp, sunny morning, she couldn’t imagine anything more beautiful than this. She sensed God’s presence everywhere—in the touch of the breeze, in the rays of sunlight spilling from the heavens, in the graceful soaring of the hawks overhead.
Overall, they’d made good time. On the morning of the third day, Cordelia finally spied the huge flag over Fort Cobb. That flag, 36 feet long, was its claim to fame. It took a minimum of eight men to take it down and raise it up. Now, as she shielded her eyes against the wind, Cordelia felt a genuine sense of pride and yes, even patriotism as she watched it waving majestically.
Soon she’d be able to see the fort itself and already she was straining to see it. Her driver, a skinny kid from Pennsylvania named Pearce Yancey, whistled to the mules and they responded by picking up their pace. Another man, George Grace, rode behind the wagon with his eyes peeled on their surroundings at all times and his rifle resting in the crook of his arm. It was his job to get her to Fort Cobb unhurt.
It was obvious that these men were perplexed by this lady of obvious sophistication and education who wore the costume of an Indian woman. Her condition was not so obvious when she wore her deerskin dress. And she never divulged the reason she wore this one dress every single day. It was none of their business to ask either. So they didn’t.
Otherwise, this unusual woman was a sight to behold. Her fox-fire red hair easily escaped the confines of her braid, the loose ringlets blown by the wind in all directions. She was a trifle too thin and pale, perhaps, but her skin was the color of cream, her cheeks tinged the barest peach. A few scattered freckles lay sprinkled across the bridge of her flawless nose and her lips were full and naturally rosy. But the feature that captured their attention the most was her eyes. Owl-sized emerald green, they reflected a disturbing degree of intelligence and keen awareness of her surroundings. They seemed to take in everything at once.
It had been awkward for Cordelia to travel, to bed down at night on the floor of the buckboard, to sit for hours on end with these young men around. General Grierson told her they would protect her and deliver her safely to Fort Cobb. And they had done just that. Except for their friendly banter around the campfire in the evenings, she rarely heard their voices. And for some strange reason, she was content with the quiet. As talkative as was her nature, she rather enjoyed the fact that she wasn’t expected to make pleasant conversation. She neither shared her life with them or her circumstances for the journey back to Fort Cobb. The solitude gave her ample time to think, to plan, to revel in the beauty of the prairie with its blue, purple, red, and yellow wildflowers in bloom everywhere—such a brilliant contrast to the red earth in which they grew.
A couple of times during the journey, they sensed other pairs of eyes watching them, but for all these days, they had seen not one person. And other than the occasional herd of surprised deer or antelope, the hawks perched high overhead, the numerous scampering rabbits and three lone wolves watching from a distant thicket, they’d seen no other life at all.
Another person might have found this scenery monotonous, but Cordelia certainly did not. She loved the beauty of the plains. She could fully understand when General Custer had shared with her one time that the prairie gets inside a man’s heart and mind. He told her he could never live back east again. She understood what he meant, but she wasn’t sure she shared his sentiments.
Yes, the prairie does get inside your heart, but so can the bustling city with its nameless people, noise and busy commerce. It has a beauty all its own.
Someday she intended to go back to Baltimore. But she didn’t want to go back without Robert. It was her desire to stay out here so that when he returned to the fort, she would be there waiting for him with eager arms—eager to hold him, to touch him, to make sure he was whole and real.
If he comes back. If he is indeed whole and real, that is, she thought. If… is such a hopeful word… Or a lonely one.
She had decided to stay hopeful. So, with a sigh, she focused on the fort, which had just come into sight. It lay before them; its familiar parade ground with the crisscrossed paths, its gigantic flag, its sturdy headquarters, the blockade, the trader’s store, the quartermaster’s office and her beloved home in the married officers’ quarters. They were traveling behind her former quarters now. She saw clothes hanging on the line, waving in the breeze.
Excitement caught in her throat and she fairly willed the buckboard through the entrance of the fort. She longed to see the familiar faces she loved so dearly. In just a moment, she would be home. An expression of pure glee settled upon her face as the wagon pulled to a stop before General Hazen’s headquarters.
~*~
After getting the general’s permission to take up residence in Captain Otis’s old quarters, Cordelia made her way toward the house. It had gone well. General Hazen, once he recovered from the shock of seeing Captain Lawson’s wife dressed as an Indian, was happy to see her and told her she could stay as long as she wanted.
Now that she knew she was moments away from a happy reunion with her sweet Bess, she felt suddenly shy. The soldiers from Camp Washita carried her things up the stairs. She opened the door gingerly. The hallway was quiet. No one in sight. She directed Grace and Yancey to put her bags in the first room on the right.
“Thank you, both of you, for getting me here safe and sound. Please give General Grierson my kindest regards upon your return to the fort.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am. We will,” Yancey said. Then they disappeared out the front door, obviously relieved to be rid of her. Women out here on the prairie made them nervous—real nervous.
Cordelia stood in the middle of the room she now regarded as her own. She walked to the bed and pushed on the mattress, reveling in its softness. She was bone tired and couldn’t wait till tonight when she could snuggle into its comfort. She was glad it was not the bed she and Robert had shared. She was, after all, starting over again.
There was a dresser with a mirror on the west wall of the room. She sat before it and studied herself in the mirror. She hadn’t seen herself for several weeks now. How odd it was to see the wild woman looking back at her. Her hair, always a problem because of its curls, looked frayed and dull pulled back into the thick braid that ran halfway down her back. Her face was free of powder or rouge. She’d lost weight and her green eyes looked enormous in her pale face. The deerskin dress with its long fringe was out of place to the point that she wondered how anyone had kept from laughing outright at her.
Suddenly, a blush came to her cheeks, burning brightly, as she shook her head in disbelief at this sight. General Hazen had seen her like this and the soldiers at the fort. And Minnie. Oh, and George Custer. She was so embarrassed but what else could she do? Her own dresses were useless now.
She stood and turned sideways, holding her hands over her bulging middle. She was amazed at how quickly she’d begun to show like this. She actually looked like she was with child. It was wonderful. Suddenly she was happy again. Her spirit soared when she thought about bringing their son into this world—or a daughter, she had to remind herself.
Cordelia desperately wanted to find Bess so she could show her what had happened to her body in so short a time. She knew Bess and Lucy would rejoice with her.
She made her way down the hall, out the back door and into the kitchen where she knew she’d find her friends hard at work. And there they were.
For an instant, all three of them were startled and Jeremiah jumped to his feet protectively. Then they realized just who this strange woman was.
Bess wrapped her arms around her and hugged her so tightly Cordelia thought she might not be able to breathe. Lucy patiently waited her turn then squeezed her and patted her stomach. Jeremiah stood in the background smiling as he watched the tender reunion.
“What in this world are you doin’ here, Missy?” Bess asked.
“I feel so foolish, Bess. I must confess that going to Camp Washita was not a very good idea after all. I decided the only place I wanted to be was here with you. So they brought me back. The only thing is that I’m afraid I’ve outgrown all my dresses and I had nothing else to wear. The Cheyenne graciously provided this for me and I’ve worn it every day since. It’s all I have.”
“Well, we’s going to do somethin’ about that, Miz Lawson. I got some material over in the pantry that I was saving for somethin’ special. It’s going to be your first dress. I’ll start on it tonight. We cain’t have you traipsing’ all over creation looking like that, now, can we?”
“Oh, Bess, I was hoping you’d say that. I can’t wait.”
“You look pert near skinny, ma’am. You ain’t been eatin’, have you?”
“Bess, your grammar!” she laughed. “I go away for a few weeks and you completely forget your language,” Cordelia exclaimed, trying to deflect the question.
“When was the last time you ate?”
Sighing, she thought a minute. “I had a half a biscuit this morning with a piece of bacon.”
“Well, that was hours ago. How ‘bout I dish you out some good ole thick beef stew and a piece of cornbread?”
“Mmm! Sounds delicious. Please do.”
