Chapter 12 #3
“Yes, they are, and I suppose that’s my point.
The way I see it, you—meaning of course yourself and the others on the caravan—are going to expect these Indians—the ones who are scouting for us—to hunt food for us, lead us to water, scout out enemy tribes and keep the caravan safe from attack. That’s true enough, isn’t it?”
“I reckon so, though it’s the duty of us all to keep the wagon train safe.”
“Yes, that’s a good point. That’s true.” She smiled. “But, as I understand it, you also expect my brother and the Indians to fight with you and defend you against not only the elements, but against animals and foes, as well? To give their lives for you, if need be?”
Mr. Russell paused, as if reluctant to agree or disagree. However, after only a sight hesitation, he said, “Yes, ma’am. That’s true enough, I suppose. But see here, they…they ain’t like us. They’s heathens, and being such, they—”
“And my brother and the Indians will be expected to defend the women and the men if need be, fight side by side?”
Pulling his hat from his head, Russell glanced down at it, then began to fiddle with its brim in his hands. “Yes, but it’s their duty.”
“Well, then, if that be the case, I should think it would be my duty, as well as every other woman’s and every other man’s duty on this wagon train, to make all the scouts, whether they’re white or Indian, feel comfortable and welcome.
Seems only fair to me, that if they’re expected to give their lives for us, then the least we can do is be civil to them. ”
“Ma’am?”
“Please understand, I am willing to have Mr. Hudson’s protection.
I’m willing to cook for him and his family, as well.
But I must admit that I am shocked that you have listened to gossip about me and acted on it without first seeking my own opinion and confronting me with what has been said.
” She hesitated, casting a deliberately hard glance at the man.
If Mr. Russell noticed, he did nothing to show it—perhaps he was too busy fiddling with his hat.
So she continued, “I do think it unfair that you would represent the others in the caravan…” she smiled again, this time sweetly, then added rather dramatically, “…and not me.”
“What?” Mr. Russell looked stricken. “But I do represent ye too, ma’am…” His voice trailed away, and glancing down at his feet, he shuffled about, still twiddling that hat in his hands. Though he appeared doubtful now, he said, “I do.”
“Do you? Well, then, perhaps you would be so kind as to tell the others that I accept their protection, and will honor their feelings. However, if I find that anyone is being unkind, refusing to speak to or treating the Indians or my brother unfairly, I might just ask my brother and the Indians not to protect any who are found to be doing it—at all. Not ever.”
“Ma’am?”
“Tell them this. It’s the only fair way. If you and the others expect protection, food and good shelter, then we certainly expect kindness. After all, no one has to defend or feed another, do they?”
“Ah… They’s gettin’ paid to do it.”
“Oh? Are they?”
“Well,” said Mr. Russell, his attention riveted to his feet. “Leastwise, your brother’s gettin’ paid money. The Injuns think differently and don’t value money. They scout and fight for their honor, and of course for their keep.”
“Their keep? But they bring in the food and water. You must give them more than that.”
“They also get a new set of clothes.”
She frowned. “But they make their own clothes. Is that all you do for them?”
“Sometimes they get a horse.”
“A horse?” Angelia’s expression stilled, then she smiled sweetly once again. “Well, I think that’s the least you could do, don’t you?” Deliberately, she let the silence that intervened between them speak for her, for the injustice she felt.
“Yes, ma’am.” At length, the wagon master gazed up at her, hat still in hand. “I’ll tell the others that you’ll accept the help, but I don’t think they’ll like the rest.”
“No,” she said, “I don’t expect they will, but it still needs to be said.”
“Ah, dad-blast it. Maybe it does.”
“Maybe?” Again she grinned at him. “You will tell them?”
“I’ll tell ’em.”
Russell placed his hat squarely on his head. “Though I don’t know what will happen.” He sighed and looked heavenward. “The daughter of a preacher man, huh?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then you’re still goin’ to teach them Injuns and all?”
“Yep,” she said. “I sure am. And I would think that others should follow suit too.”
Russell shook his head. “Ye sure do sound like some do-gooding preacher’s daughter, that’s for sure. And I guess I’ll have to let ye take in all the stray sheep ye want. Jest be aware that some of them sheep may be wolves, miss. And because of that, we’ll have a sheepdog on duty.”
“Yes, Mr. Russell. And thank you.”
With that said, Mr. Kit Russell turned away, while Angelia sat still, frowning thoughtfully, watching his figure as he strode off.
The entire conversation had been more than a little upsetting.
However, only one fact remained to bother her…
there was a Vigilance Committee, right here on this train, now.
This was not good news. Not good news at all.