Miss Annie And The Chief by Joany Kane Page A

horse.   He tips his hat
to her.   “Good-bye, Mrs. Landon.”
    “God speed,
Captain.”   Annie watches the men
ride off.   She returns to the house
and enters it.   It seems so big and
empty now, more so today than yesterday.
    She looks
around.   It's quiet.   Lonely.   Painfully lonely.   Her toddler son is dead, taken by the pox.   Her husband is dead.   Now what does she do?    She takes a wooden box from a shelf, opens it and removes a small pile
of hand-written letters.
    Annie looks
through the letters, they're all written to her from an Aunt Selma.   She reads one.   "Dear Annie, We crossed the
Mississippi today. I've never seen such a wide river. Everything I've
experienced on this trip west thus far has been exhilarating. As I travel
across this beautiful country, I eagerly anticipate my new life in the Colorado
Territory. I wish you were here to share it with me.   With much love, Aunt Selma"
    *****
    A horse-drawn
buggy, driven by Annie, rides down the main road of a small Pennsylvania
town.   Annie parks the buggy in
front of a tavern.  
    Dressed in
mourning black, she steps down from the buggy.   She pats the nose of her horse, showing true affection for
her beast of burden.   She looks at
the tavern, at first unsure about entering.   Mustering determination, she enters.
    Not one man in
the place looks like a gentleman, an observation not lost on Annie.   She clears her throat and looks at the
bartender. “I'm looking for Mr. Emmet Howes.”
    The men seated
at the front of the bar turn their attention to a rough ole coot seated at the
end of the bar.   “He's at the end
of the bar,” the bartender replies.
    Emmet slinks
down on his bar stool, not wanting to be acknowledged. He looks tough in most
spots, lovable in a few others, and could stand for a bath and a shave.
    Annie approaches
him. “Mr. Emmet Howes?”
    Emmet gives
Annie the once over. “If you're recruitin' for the Lord, ya picked the wrong
man.”
    “I'm Mrs. Annie
Landon.   You took Selma MacHattie,
my aunt, to the Colorado Territory a couple of years ago.”
    Emmet furrows
his brow, trying to recall.   “Was
she that teacher?”
    “Yes, she is a
teacher.”
    “I
remember.   I took her to Beaver
Creek.   Went with the
missionaries.   The good bookers
determined to bring Jesus to the savages.”
    “I wish to hire
you to bring me to Beaver Creek, to my aunt.”
    “Sorry,
missy.   If yer anything like yer
aunt, I ain't interested.   She got
me so riled I had to drink warm milk for a month to calm my stomach.”
    “Please.   I can pay.   Handsomely.”
    “Have you ever
seen a savage?”   Emmet asks.
    “No.”
    “Good.   You should keep it that way.”  
    “My husband is
dead, Mr. Howes.   My little boy is
dead.   I have no family other than
my aunt.   Please.” Annie implores
with quiet determination.   She
reluctantly adds.   “I will give you
my horse.”
    Emmet looks away
from Annie.   He gave her his
answer.   Annie, now embarrassed by
her pleas, leaves the tavern.   She
hops up into her buggy.
    Emmet exits the
tavern.   He studies the horse.   “Is this the horse?”
    “Yes.”
    “Fine
animal.”   Emmet pets the horse's nose.
    “He is.   He was a present to me from my
husband.”
    “We leave at
daybreak the day after next.   If
you ain't ready, you ain't going.”
    “I am
ready.”   Annie answers with
conviction.
    *****
    At daybreak a
covered wagon rides up to Annie’s house, Emmet is at the reigns.   He whoa’s his horses to a stop.    Annie exits the house.   She approaches Emmet.   “Good morning, Mr. Howes.”
    “It is good and
it's gettin' away from us.   We best
be gettin' a move on,” he says surly as he hops down from the wagon to help
Annie with her trunk and two bags.
    “This all ya
taking?”   He asks as he looks at
the trunk and two bags.
    “This is all I
need.”
    Emmet ties
Annie's horse to the back of the wagon.   “What's gonna happen to yer