Tags:
Fiction,
Romance,
Historical,
series,
Western,
Short-Story,
Texas,
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Victorian,
Faith,
sweet,
tragic past,
sheriff,
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Trust Issues,
Kansas,
journey,
scary,
encounter,
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1880s,
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Wives In The West,
Midwife
Prologue
The Comanche brave circled around the schoolhouse on horseback, peering into the windows. Rose tried shooing him off, but he was undeterred—the look in his eyes one of rage and hostility. There’d been trouble brewing with the tribes for months now. It wasn’t because of the regular Fort Worth citizens, but the vagrant trail driving cowboys, who’d continued stealing horses from the Comanche Indians, even after being warned not to. There’d also been a rumor that one of their women had been assaulted, although it wasn’t confirmed.
“Miss Rose?” Charlie asked, huddled behind her desk with the other children in the class.
“Yes, Charlie?” she said softly, trying to remain calm so the kids wouldn’t agitate the brave even more.
“Is he going to hurt us?” he asked, innocently. All kids on the frontier knew about the dangers of life here. It was just something parents had to instill in them as they grew up. Rose took a deep breath. She’d never personally encountered a hostile Indian, but she’d been warned by the men, including her husband, John, not to travel alone because of the bad blood with them right now.
“Of course not, Charlie,” she said, not knowing if the words coming out of her mouth were a lie or not. “He’s just curious, that’s all.” The older children looked at Rose with concern. She was sure they’d been told the truth about the situation.
“Mama?” Grace and Anna said in unison. “We’re scared.” Their soft, blond hair sat atop their little heads like beautiful halos, wispy strands escaping to frame their faces. Normally, Rose braided their hair, but today they’d begged to have it put up in a bun, just like their mama.
Rose took her twin daughters into her arms as she bent down to comfort them along with the others in the class. “You know where your papa is right now?” she asked the twins. They shook their head no and waited for her to tell them.
“At this very moment, he’s riding out with the other men in town to talk to the head Indian chief,” she explained. “And when he gets there, you can bet he’ll tell that old tribe to stay away from our schoolhouse!” Rose knew her husband was headed there, but she wasn’t sure what the outcome would be. Maybe they’d already met and it didn’t go well. Or maybe John had been killed in a fight with the Indians. She couldn’t tell the kids that, but the what ifs raced through her mind like lightening.
The answer seemed to satisfy the twins and the others. They all felt safe when John Lockhart was in charge. Rose realized that huddling behind her desk was making the kids more fearful. So she ordered them back to their seats to continue their lessons, always keeping one eye on the window to see where the Indian brave was. Suddenly, he darted off over the hill. Rose felt relieved that he was gone, but she was still shaken, so she summoned Charles Wiley to her desk and quietly ordered him to go fetch the marshal or any other men in town so they could come to the schoolhouse and make sure they were okay.
Charles ran out the door, and down the street, heading into town as fast as his legs could take him. Rose continued looking out the window, not really paying attention to what the children were reading aloud. “Ma’am?” Bertha Evans asked when Rose wasn’t responding.
“Oh, yes, Bertha,” Rose replied, startled back to the present. “What was it you wanted to know?”
“Are we going to eat lunch today?” Bertha asked. It was past lunchtime and while the teacher may have been preoccupied, kids never forgot when it was time to eat.
“That sounds like a great idea,” Rose said. The kids took out their lunch and began heading for the door to eat outside as they always did until she stopped them. “Today we’re eating at our desks.” A groan of unhappiness sounded throughout the room. She knew the kids just wanted to get outside and get some fresh air and play, not be cooped up inside all
Tim Curran
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S.J. West
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