One Perfect Flower Read online

  Gabriel caught up. “If not for you teaching me how to hunt and track, I would be of no use to anyone.” Guilt edged his voice. He took a deep breath. “But you need to understand my side in all of this. Traditional dress is not welcomed, my father. Times are changing, and to survive, we must change, too. An Apache is accepted better dressed in the white man’s clothes.”

  “You must honor your heart, Golden Eagle, and I must honor mine,” he said. “But remember this, my son, a man who follows the ways of others can never be true to himself.”

  In silence, both men rode the rest of the way to town.

  ****

  Proud Eagle thought with the passing years the town of Willow Creek grew in size and noise. As he passed the mercantile, now double its previous size, he remembered the time he was held prisoner in the back room by the white lawman, Lieutenant Ryan Duffy.

  There was a bank now in town, a sheriff’s office, and a jail as well as a post office. Even the standard way of travel changed. No longer just by horse, but by something called the iron horse. His son explained to him all about the boxed carts running on a track, pulling other compartments behind it.

  “Its faster and a safer way to travel,” Golden Eagle said. “And I take up where the train leaves off, guiding the wagons.”

  When they rode past the hotel and saloon, a drunken man stepped from the double doors shouting curses at him. An uneasy expression formed on Golden Eagle’s face. “Do not let him trouble you, my son. His head swims with the indah’s fire water.”

  “What did you need to come into town for anyway?”

  He took a deep breath. “I need to send word to the holy man who lives across the big waters.”

  Golden Eagle frowned. “Always you and mother speak of this man, how he helped to save your life years ago. But he is too far away now to help, my father.”

  “If this friend chooses to help, the distance between us will not matter.” He turned his horse toward the parsonage.

  He mounted the back steps, remembering the day he came for the holy man, Josh, to invite him to the Thanksgiving celebration. His housekeeper, Grace Thomas, a good hearted old biddy, had opened the door. When she took a look at him standing on the porch stoop, she fainted dead away.

  Grace’s niece, Sylvie opened the back door today. She was married to the holy man, Benjamin Newcomb, who had taken over for Reverend Josh after he left for England.

  Sylvie smiled, making a gesture of welcome with her hand. “Good day to you, Chief.”

  He inclined his head in a polite manner, grateful for this woman and her husband’s friendship. If not for their kindness, village conditions would be much worse than they already were.

  Golden Eagle removed his hat and gave a courteous nod, standing beside his father. Sylvie returned the gesture with a polite bob of her head and ushered the two men into the kitchen. Motioning for them to take a seat at the table, she moved to the cupboard, reached for two glasses, and filled them with lemonade.

  He sat by the window, the white cotton curtains stirring in the warm afternoon wind. Glancing out onto the garden, he remembered the time he came into town to fetch Golden Lady after she received word her aunt from England was arriving. He was arrested by Lieutenant Ryan Duffy, a cavalry officer staying in town, whipped, and sentenced to hang. If not for the dual efforts of his wife and the Reverend Joshua Holmes, he would not be sitting in this kitchen today.

  “What brings you to town,” Sylvie probed, interrupting his thoughts and handing him a glass.

  “I thank you, Miss Sylvie,” Golden Eagle said, when she handed him a glass. He downed the cold yellow liquid within a few gulps.

  Inwardly, Proud Eagle cringed. Never could he master the flavor of the sour drink and could swallow it only if he took tiny mouthfuls at a time. He placed his own glass down on the table. “I wish to send word to Josh in the place called England.”

  Sylvie nodded. “Benjamin is in the den.”

  He and Golden Eagle followed the reverend’s wife through the foyer and to the room where Reverend Newcomb sat behind a large desk.

  Benjamin looked up from his reading, stood, and made his way to his guests, shaking their hands with a large smile upon his long thin face. “Vhat a pleasant surprise.” Frowning, he added,“All is vell vith the family, yaw? Everyone is in good health?”

  He stifled a grin. Ben’s homeland was a place called Sweden. Even after all these years his words still sounded strange. “All of us are in good health, thank you.” He took a seat where Ben indicated beside the desk. “But I do need your help.”

  “Vhat can I do for you today, Chief?”

  “I ask your help in sending a letter to England.”

  “To the Reverend Holmes,” Sylvie added, reaching for her husband’s stationery ledger on a nearby shelf.

  Ben pulled a fountain pen from the drawer and held it up in admiration. “This marvelous vriting tool vas made by an American insurance agent in 1884; his name vas Levis Vaterman.”

  “Lewis Waterman,” Sylvie translated.

  “Yaw, yaw, that’s vhat I said… Levis Vaterman.” He handed the pen to Proud Eagle. “I enjoy very much penning letters vith it, only drawback is a change in temperature altars the ink’s appearance. And should I carry the pen in my pocket it varms the ink and then…"

  “It leaks out of the pen and ruins a perfectly good shirt,” Sylvie finished the sentence, placing a sheet of paper in front of Proud Eagle.

  When he first brought Golden Lady to his village, he instructed her in the ways of the warrior’s fight and how to hunt with a bow and arrow. In return, she taught him how to read and write the white man’s words. He placed the pen’s tip to the paper and began to draw a letter, but he pressed too hard and out oozed the ink, forming a large black splotch on the white stationery and staining the tips of his fingers.

  “Till you are used to it, the pen can be messy,” Benjamin stated, motioning for Sylvie to give him another piece of paper.

  He looked down at the fresh sheet and hesitated. Drawing letters in the sand with a stick, which was the way he first learned to write, or using the chalk and slate boards the Reverend Josh brought to the village was much easier to master. If a mistake was made it could easily be wiped away.

  “Perhaps a pencil would be better,” Sylvie offered.

  Benjamin nodded and pulled a pencil from the same drawer where he kept the pen, handing it to him.

  Many times he watched his daughter Sunny draw pictures on sketch paper with the pencil. The lines and swirls she created copied things she saw around her. He set the pencil to paper and began to write, but again pressing too hard broke the black tip.

  “Hmm, this may take some time,” Benjamin commented.

  He nodded in agreement and turned toward his son. “It might be faster if you wrote what I speak.”

  Golden Eagle combed his fingers through his hair. “I need to get to work.” He looked over at Ben. “Would you mind, Reverend, helping my father with this letter?”

  Ben smiled and picked up the pen. “I don’t mind a bit. You go on to your job, Gabriel. Sylvie vill see you to the door, and I vill help your father.” He turned to Proud Eagle, his smile deepening. “Then ve vill have lunch together in the garden and a good talk before you ride home, yaw?”

  He chuckled and mimicked Ben. “Yaw.”

  ****

  Two months passed before a letter from England arrived. On the day Ben brought Josh’s response to the reservation, Proud Eagle took a walk to a secluded place in the village and ripped open the top of the envelope. Reading his friend’s beautifully scripted words brought tears to his eyes. Josh complied fully with his request and made all the arrangements. Benjamin Newcomb was instructed to help carry out the plan. He sighed with relief. Now all there was left to do was explain the plans to his wife and children.

  ****

  Gabriel’s bones were beyond aching when he rode into the village. Just as he stretched out on the cot in his wickiup, his younger sis
ter burst through the door’s flap with the news he was needed at his parents’ gowa for a family talk.

  “They can talk without me,” he groaned, pulling a blanket over his head. “And the next time you come uninvited into my home, I will paddle your backside till you cannot sit down.”

  Sunny ripped the blanket off her brother, not the least bit intimidated by his threat, and stood with hands on hips. “Mother said you must come now. She has exciting news.”

  Gabriel gave her a menacing look. “You do not hear well, little sister.” He pulled the blanket back over his head. “I said they can talk without me.”

  “Get on your feet now, Golden Eagle,” Proud Eagle demanded.

  Gabriel peeled away the blanket to find his father standing at the foot of his bed, in the same fashion as his sister, with hands on hips.

  He sat up, his annoyance mounting. “Am I not entitled to my privacy?” He frowned over at his sister. “First she comes pushing her way in here, not knowing if I am dressed or not, and now you—”

  “You are never to walk into this wickiup without asking first to be invited.” Proud Eagle interrupted with a scolding to Sunny.

  She relaxed her stand, casting her gaze to the ground. “I am sorry, my father.” She turned to glare at Gabriel. “But what right does he have to threaten to paddle my backside.”

  Proud Eagle arched a brow. “He has no right at all.” Their father shook his head in disgust. “You two act like you are still small.” He pointed to the door opening. “Go to your mother now, dayden.”

  Sunny folded her arms across her chest. “I am not a little girl.”

  “Then stop acting like one,” Gabriel grumbled.

  Proud Eagle narrowed his eyes at his daughter. “Leave us, now, Sunny.”

  With a huff she marched out of the wickiup.

  Proud Eagle then turned his attention on his son. “I am giving you the chance to walk to my gowa on your own two feet, but the offer will not last long.”

  Gabriel threw the blanket aside and stood. “When do I start receiving some respect from this family?”

  “Respect is given to one who shows it, my ciye,” Proud Eagle retorted, striding out the door.

  Gabriel’s mother held out her hand to him and smiled when he entered his parents’ wickiup. “Come, sit around the fire with us and listen to the good news.”

  Reluctant, tired, and only wanting the good news of a night’s rest, he obeyed.

  “Your father,” his mother began, looking around the circle at each of her children, “has sent a letter to England, asking our friend, Reverend Joshua Holmes, to help us.”

  “And has he agreed?” Raven asked.

  “Yes, he has,” she said, squeezing Raven’s arm with affection. “His reply came today.”

  Gabriel’s heart sank. He had an idea he would not like the outcome of this family meeting. “How can he help us?”

  His mother turned to look at him, her eyes bright with a satisfied glow, one Gabriel had not seen in them for a long time. “He has sent money for the three of you to travel to England.”

  His voice, cold and exact, was almost an affront to his mother’s joy. “It is Sunny and Raven who must leave. It is dangerous for them here.”

  Proud Eagle stirred the fire with a stick. “It is dangerous for them to travel alone as well.”

  He stood with an angry glare. “Have you forgotten I have a job to do here?”

  “Ah, the white man’s bidding,” Proud Eagle snapped.

  “That may be so, but the extra rations I receive as pay has helped this family many times,” he argued.

  Proud Eagle raised a defiant chin. “I have taken care of this family all these years, my son, and I will continue.”

  His voice grated. “Am I not in line to be chief, my father? How can I do this if I am in England?”

  His father locked eyes with him, his voice calm yet stern. “Golden Eagle, sit.”

  He remained standing, his eyes challenging his father. “You have not answered my question.”

  Proud Eagle’s large black orbs stayed fixed on his face, his tone mounting with anger. “Must I make you sit in front of the women?”

  He did not want to think how his father would carry out the threat, but there was no doubt in his mind he could. Though he was strong, Proud Eagle was stronger and a head taller. Trying to hold his own against his father would be difficult and humiliating, especially in front of his sisters. Again, with much reluctance, he obeyed, folding his arms across his chest and staring into the flames.

  “Please, Gabriel,” his mother pleaded. “I need your help or this plan will not work. Your sisters need to get away from what’s happening here. They need to go to England, where it is safe, and my Aunt Kaylena can care for them.” She reached over and caressed his hand with the tip of her finger. “They will have a better chance of a future there.”

  “Does it not matter I have a place here?” he grumbled. His mother cupped his chin, turning his face toward her. The soft blue of her eyes always tendered his heart. “Please, my mother, do not ask me to do this.”

  “I wouldn’t, Gabriel, if it wasn’t so necessary,” she said with a broken whisper. “And I ask this not only for them, but for you as well. You will be a man of great means.”

  The words stuck in his throat. “H-how so?”

  “You know the story of my mother coming from England to teach the children of Willow Creek?”

  He nodded.

  “As the eldest she was in line to inherit Bentwood Manor, the Bentley estate. But she died of a fever when I was only a small girl, therefore bequeathing her rights to me. Upon my grandfather’s death my mother’s sister, Kaylena traveled to America, hoping to return to England with me as the next heir, but I was already married to your father and refused to leave, signing all the Bentley fortune back to her. Now, Kaylena is getting on in years and wants to pass the family’s estate to the next of kin, which is you, Gabriel, because you are the eldest of my children.”

  He sighed. “I know nothing about being the head of a manor.”

  “Then you will learn.” Proud Eagle’s gruff voice made him stiffen. “The holy man will help you.”

  “What if I do not want to learn?”

  “You’re always saying you want to help our people, set them free,” his mother said, placing a hand upon his shoulder. “With the money you’ll inherit, you’ll have the chance.”

  He frowned. “How can I help the tribe if I am in England?”

  “After you claim your inheritance you will be a rich and powerful man, able to do whatever you want and travel wherever you choose. Then, Gabriel, you can return and do great things for our people,” she said. “But this cannot happen if you don’t go to England now, with your sisters, and claim what’s rightfully yours.”

  For the first time in years, hope rose from the center of his being and filtered to the tips of his toes. If he could do this for his people, release them from the white man’s oppression, it was his duty to leave. “For this reason…to help my people and keep safe my sisters, I will go.”

  Proud Eagle stifled a grin. This night reminded him of so many that passed. What would take harsh words from him to make his son obey, only took a bit of soft logic from his wife to achieve.

  “When do we leave, my mother?” Sunny asked.

  “In fourteen days. You will leave Willow Creek by stagecoach and travel to Silver City, and then travel by train to Texas. From there you will board a ship going to England.”

  He watched his wife swallow the emotion that now welled in her eyes. He reached over to take her hand.

  She gave him a timid smile and cleared her throat. “Enough money has been sent to purchase traveling clothes and several other outfits for you to wear. Miss Sylvie and Reverend Ben will bring them the morning you are to leave, and then they will take you to the stagecoach.”

  “Then that…that will be the last time we will see you, my mother?” Sunny said, moving closer and placing her head u
pon her mother’s shoulder.

  She gave her daughter’s face a gentle pat. “Yes, my sweet dayden, for a while I’m afraid…” her words trailed off as she glanced over at him.

  “I want you always to remember you are born of proud blood,” he added. “Never feel shame for who you are or where you come from. Do not allow anyone to take your pride.” He sighed. “Most of all, forever know that your mother and I love you. This is why we must let you go.”

  ****

  On the morning her children left the reservation, Amanda’s eyes grew moist watching them board Benjamin Newcomb’s wagon for the trip into town.

  Raven looked stunning in an apricot traveling suit; the deep peach brought out the rich golden brown of her skin and the shine of her black hair. Sunny wore a deep blue outfit that matched the intensity of her sapphire eyes. The long golden curls, pinned high and elegant atop her head, framed her angelic features like a halo. Gabriel took his stand as a gentleman, assisting his sisters into the wagon before mounting his horse. He looked dashing and handsome in a white shirt, gray vest, jacket, and breeches to match. Black boots and a fine hat topped off his sophisticated look.

  She bit her bottom lip to keep from crying. It was a very real possibility she’d never see her children again. This paralyzing thought circled her heart while packing Raven’s belongings, so she placed her mother’s wedding dress in the satchel as a precaution. She wanted her eldest daughter to have the dress Amelia Bentley Gregory wore the day she married Ethan Gregory. The same dress she wore in a second marriage ceremony to wed Proud Eagle.

  She waved her good-byes, swallowing hard the tears stinging the back of her throat. Proud Eagle stood straight and silent beside her, his brave exterior shielding the heart she knew was breaking within.

  Together they watched the wagon pull away.

  Chapter Two

  Raven shifted on the hard stagecoach seat, wanting to be free from the tortures of her clothes. White women wore entirely too much beneath their dresses. The cumbersome petticoat and tight bodice all overheated and suffocated the woman’s natural form. And the narrow-toed shoes squeezed the life from feet and toes. She tugged at her collar and wished she could slip her feet from the confines of the shoes, but with all the laces to untie, accomplishing such a task would be awkward and most inappropriate in public. The thought of running barefoot to the river occupied her mind throughout the long, tedious journey to Silver City.