Stay With Me Page 4

  He turned his attention on her now. "Are you a Christian, Willa?"

  "I believe in your God, if that is what you ask. I went to missionary school, where a priest taught. Yes, I believe there is only one God, as my father did." She said softly. "And that his son saved us from our sins. My mother believed it too. She said my father would not contemplate anything less of her."

  "I'm glad of that." Clay smiled. "I know it's a strange question to ask, but it makes me feel better that I know."

  "You believe also?" She asked, watching his face.

  "I do. But there are people like Laura that won't believe Elan is not my son no matter what I say or do. I want you to know that. I could tell each and every one that he isn't, but it would do no good. But we know the truth and that is important. I'll admit, at first, I had reservations about you staying here as our cook and housekeeper, but I see the practical side to it too. My father was at the point he'd have hired someone anyway. And our house is not beautiful, and not many women would want to stay out here and cook and clean for us. So, I agree, you're staying here is probably a good idea, for if you leave, the Indians might follow to take your baby from you. If you stay, the only problem will be people like Laura."

  "There will always be people like her." Willa murmured. "My father told my mother that years ago and that I was better off with the Indians than trying to live in the white world."

  "I don't know about that. It would be a struggle no matter which way you go. It is something you will have to endure most of your life, I'm afraid. But it will only make you stronger to do so. My grandfather always said troubles build character in a person. So, you might as well buck up."

  "Buck up, what does that mean?"

  "Get tough. Let what people say, slide off your back. Pay no attention to them, as they are illiterate and don't understand. You may not read or write, but you seem to understand life. They also don't believe much in what the good book says. They read the bible, they go to church, but they don't look out there and see that it was all God's hand, not ours that created this beautiful land. And if they do believe in it, they don't abide by it. He made us all, and in the beginning, there was only one race, and we are part of that race. Now granted war is one thing, and war breeds hate. The North and the South, the Indians and whites, the Blacks. Because of the wars, it's hard to love everyone. But learning to forgive is the first step to any of us."

  "The bible?" she queried.

  "Yes." He smiled.

  "They have never seen me, yet they will think he is yours. I do not understand your people so much. My father was a brave man, and a good man, so my mother told me, but he was a drifter that could not be still. My Indian husband was a warrior, he did not love me, nor I him, yet we had a child together. I do not mourn him, as I should. It would seem there is much problems in the world. I want to be a good Christian, but it is hard to understand some things."

  "That's the way life is. You cannot start running from what you are Willa. My father and I see you as a woman, not Indian, not white, but a woman. We see that together we can be better, make a home better. It is a good thing. And believe me, I've thought about the consequences of you staying, for my father's sake though, it will be good. You see he's been lonesome, maybe we both have, we didn't realize what we were missing. And like I said, not many would live in a house like this."

  "Your house is built strong, and it is… comfortable. But I fear I will only bring problems for you and your father."

  "You've met my father; he is a very stubborn and determined man. But I see something that you and your baby bring to this house that has been lacking for a long time. I never even realized it. You see, you don't miss something you've never had. He spoke of it only yesterday. You never think about your parent being a lonely person. You live together, work together and yet you don't see the loneliness of it all. My mother died some years back, but I don't think he ever quit missing her, he loved her so." He bowed his head, thinking. "But you have brought something back into his life."

  "I do not understand?"

  "Laughter, happiness." He smiled at her. "People can't really live without those things. You bring that to this house. And I welcome it."

  Charlie came back inside. "Well, that's probably the last we'll see of her."

  "I'm not complaining." Clay looked at his father.

  Charlie eyed him for a moment. "I was wrong about her, son. She's not the person I thought she was." Charlie frowned. "Could be she's just jealous, but none the less, she'll cause a lot of talk with that mouth of hers."

  "Hope you aren't too disappointed. Laura was never meant for me, that much I'm sure of dad. Well, let's bury Willa's father now." Clay told him.

  "Alright," Charlie responded and they went outside to dig the grave.

  When they were ready, they called Willa out. Willa had her baby in her arms and looked sadly at the fresh pile of dirt. She saw the well-kept grave of Clay's mother, the flowers on her grave and it made her heart thud hard that they would allow her father to be buried by her. What an honor. The small gravesite was fenced in and tended well. "I did not know him well, but I will mourn him just as I did my mother."

  Charlie nodded.

  Charlie quoted from the bible. Willa stared at Charlie and as he spoke tears rolled down her cheeks unchecked. She held her baby tightly to her. It was as if he was saying there was a purpose for her being here. It comforted her, even though she did not understand all of it.

  Afterwards they went inside, and Willa fixed a pot of coffee. Strangely she became familiar with where things were, easy enough, Clay noted, but it was a small kitchen. "Those were beautiful words." She murmured.

  "Yes ma'am, they were." Charlie sighed.

  "He would have liked them." Willa smiled at him as she brought the coffee pot to the table, put cups out for them all and poured the coffee.

  "I'm glad. I figured he was a Christian man when he went after you, after your mother died. It was the right thing to do." Charlie shook his head when she offered sugar.

  "He had a habit of reading from the bible every night." She sat down at the table now with them as Elan was still asleep. "He read aloud, so I could hear the words. He said it was God Almighty who kept him from harm all his life. I remember his voice so well. It is one of the things I remember about him from my childhood." She smiled sadly. "The words they comforted me. I remember that even as a small child."

  "Did you know him very well Willa?" Clay asked.

  "No, not as well as I would have liked to. You see he was not around much as I grew up. My mother and I were accepted back into the tribe as he was gone so much. He didn't want her being alone, so he took her back to her tribe. He was not a welcome visitor there, but the old chief allowed it, for he knew him. He agreed that we were better off with them."

  "What did your father do for a living?"

  Willa smiled in reflection, her eyes taking on a faraway look. "My father was an eternal drifter. Almost like our tribe. He searched for gold in California. He worked on cattle drives. He even trapped a few times. My mother said he must have been born under a wandering star. He just couldn't stay still long, at least that was what my mother told me. She talked about him a lot, so I knew him through her words. When I met him this time, I was shocked, he looked older than I ever remembered. He must have had a lot of hard days in his life. He could read and write, and he sent her letters. But my mother could not read, so when we would go into a white village, she would ask a lady if she would read his letter to her. She kept all his letters. Still, she loved him dearly even to the end of her life. And he didn't come complaining either, when he came back. He loved the freedom of his life and he loved her for understanding the need of it."

  "At least you got to know him a little before he died." Charlie said.

  "Yes, I am glad. I suspect he was a very good man. He told me he never loved another woman, but my mother."

  "Love like that don't come but once," Charlie commented.

  "Yes, I
believe that too." She smiled. "No matter how much she missed him, she was never angry with him."

  Charlie and Clay went back outside to finish up their work for the day. Willa made a roast with wild onions and what she could find of carrots in the garden. She made a cornbread too.

  She couldn't wait to get outside and work in the garden, it was sadly lacking, but she knew with soil like this, she could grow anything.

  When the men came in, they sniffed. "Smells mighty good." Charlie sighed as he washed up.

  "It will be ready soon," she said. "I want you to know I will work, right along side you both, as you have given me and my child a home. A chance to make some kind of life. I will do my best to be worthy of it. And if necessary, I will fight alongside you too."

  "Our home ain't fancy Willa, but it is home." Charlie smiled.

  "A home, a real home does not have to be grand, but it should be warm and friendly, comforting."

  "It's not grand by any means, but it is warm and friendly and comforting." Charlie smiled.

  "I like it. An Indian lives in a temporary home all his life, moving about, but he also finds it comforting. But in an Indian home it is the woman who makes it so, not the man." She smiled.

  "I think a woman makes any home more comforting." Charlie chuckled.

  Charlie and Clay nodded.

  After she set the table, she went to change the baby and brought him to the table with her.

  She fed her baby as always first, He smacked his lips and went to sleep. She went to lay him down.

  "Looks like he has a good appetite." Clay smiled.

  From that day forward Willa became part of their family. She never complained of the work, but when she finished her chores, she would join them outside to help with feeding the animals and it made things easier for Clay and Charlie. She carried her baby Indian style on her back on a cradle board and he was very happy to be outside, for he smiled all the time.

  Clay had a small herd of cattle, they had a milk cow, some chickens and a mule, and two horses. Willa could see that all the animals were well taken care of.

  Things were peaceful and quiet as they were a good twenty miles from town. They seldom had visitors, and many times they were only travelers.

  Then a couple of weeks later, the Indians came again, Charlie went out to talk to them.

  "We want the child." The young warrior insisted. He was painted up, and his face held no room for a smile. "He is grandson of our chief."

  "Sorry, he stays with his mother." Charlie told them firmly. "She still nurses him."

  "He is flesh of my flesh." An old man among them looked at Charlie and he knew he was looking at the chief himself.

  "Maybe, but a baby belongs with his mother. She still nurses him. Don't you understand."

  "We will take him…"

  "She'd die rather than give him up."

  "Then she will die…." The younger warrior hooped and hollered.

  For two hours they shot off their arrows, trying their best to take the cabin. Clay and Charlie kept shooting as Willa reloaded their guns.

  Several times they tried lighting fires for their arrows, but Clay would pull the arrows out so they couldn't damage the house. Although the house was not pretty, it was well built, and had withstood many different attacks.

  Charlie's arm began to hurt, and Willa took over shooting for him. She wasn't a good shot, but the sound of the bullet whizzing by scared them off finally.

  When it was over, Willa sank to the floor. "Maybe I should return to the village. I mean, they would allow me since I still nurse him."

  "No," Clay folded his lips firmly. "Your father wanted you away from them, and his grandson too. You'll stay here. Besides, they belong on a reservation and you don't."

  "They will not leave me alone," she cried. "He's the grandson of the chief."

  "Then we'll just fight them off." Charlie concluded. "I could ride to the fort and tell the army; they might help send them back to the reservation. Would that upset you?"

  "Not if they persist. If they come back again, then maybe it would be best, as I don't want you to lose your home because of them."

  "Willa fighting out here, is part of life. If you don’t fight, then you have problems."

  "Why?" She asked simply. "Why would you put yourselves in danger for someone you barely know?"

  "We respect your father's attempt to free you. Your father wanted to take care of you, protect you. He didn't live long enough to do it. This place is all we have, but we fight to keep it ours. We always have and we always will, it doesn't matter who we have to fight. We've worked this place and we won't let anyone take it from us. We've had claim jumpers, Indians and a few outlaws try to take us, they didn't succeed. We built this place strong."

  "Why do you fight for my freedom and my child's?" She asked staring straight at him.

  "You may be part Indian, but you are also part white, so is your child. It's that part we fight for." Clay answered.

  "But it is not your fight, it is mine."

  Clay sighed heavily and came to stand in front of her. "When we accepted you into our home, you became part of it. Now the subject is closed. We protect what is ours."

  For some reason Willa appreciated that statement. She had somehow become part of their family and the knowledge swelled within her.

  And she was part of it! It gave her pride and made her want to fight with them. She vowed that day to someday repay them for including her and her son in their lives.

  "Most white men or women would never accept me."

  "You live in two worlds Willa. It isn't your fault that you do, but you do. I guess we never stopped to ask, what you wanted. But you have a home here, if you want it."

  Willa looked down at herself and then at her child. "You have treated me well, and my child. And here I am accepted, but in town, in other places I would not be accepted by the white man. There have been too many years of killing and hate."

  "It's true. No matter what, you can't change that. Isn't it the same at the Indian village? Are you accepted there either?" Clay asked. "Besides, after all the battles and wars, don't you think it's time to try to get along. We are all just people Willa. It takes time for people to accept what they don't understand."

  She looked at him, with a sense of wonder, "Yes, you are right. It is time. And we are just people."

  "Then let's stand up for peace now. Let's fight to get along. You must choose which world to live in, then live. Because you can't change everyone. The bigger towns are not as hateful toward Indians, but the small ones, they are, because the people in them breed their own hate."

  She looked at her child and smiled, "I want so many things for him. I want him to learn to read and write like any white man and learn your ways. And still, I want him to be proud that he is part Indian too. Right now, I sit on the fence and look both ways. You are good white men, both of you, but there are many that are not. The same is true with the Indian. I cannot make the decision now. But I will, if you approve, stay here until I do. Then I will tell you. Only, I wish no harm to come to either of you."

  Charlie came to her side. "We've defended this place many times, from white men and Indian. It's no different now."

  "Then I will stay for a while as I know you need food and help here. I can help. I will make a fine garden for you and you will have fresh vegetables."

  "Good." Charlie smiled at her.

  Clay got quiet then all of a sudden, he shared his thoughts with them. "It's kind of like the men of the Alamo, when you think of it. They fought the Mexican army, but the men in the Alamo were from many different walks of life. Some were from the North, some even from different countries. But they were given a choice to stay and die for Texas or leave and live. They chose to stay. All of them save one. They became one people against an army that out numbered them. We stay here because we worked this land, we fought for it and we'll die for it if necessary. And if you decide to stay, you have to be willing too."

  "
The Alamo, yes, I have heard many stories of the men there. They were men of great courage."

  Struggling with her uncertainty, she realized the Indians were gone. She stood now, staring out the window, at the dust they left behind. She could not contemplate her life any longer. She was here, she was safe, and she liked the work here. But where did she and her child belong? To suddenly have no roots made her feel as though she did not belong anywhere.

  They called her a breed, even the Indians looked upon her differently than their own.

  Was there a place for her and her child?

  A silent tear slipped down her cheek, she hoped she could find that place someday.

  Chapter Six

  Two days later, Clay got up and prepared to take his bath in the creek. He made it a habit to bath at least once a week, more in the summer months. It was barely dawn and no one would be around. He grabbed a bar of lye soap and a cloth to dry on and brought a change of clothes.

  He was walking toward the creek when he heard someone humming. He had his rifle with him, so he was prepared.

  But as he got closer, he was stunned into silence as he saw Willa feeding her baby in the creek, totally naked. The site of her mesmerized him, he couldn't move. His loins reacted immediately, and it embarrassed him that he reacted so quickly, but he'd never seen such a beautiful site, nor a more beautiful woman.

  Her face was serene and happy as she smiled with such love for her child.

  Totally uninhibited, Willa sat on a rock close to the banks, she was humming as her baby fed from her breast.

  Clay swallowed hard, he couldn't take his eyes from her, she was so lovely. When Elan finished his meal, she carried him to the bank and laid him on a blanket, then stretched in the early dawn of day. "Sleep my pet, I will return and bath you too, in a moment."

  She walked back to the creek and sat on the same rock and washed herself. With every movement of her body, Clay's body reacted. He knew he shouldn't be watching her like this. It was low down, disgraceful, but how could a man, any man take his eyes from her. She had let her long hair loose and it flowed down her back like a cloud of black ribbon. She raised her arms and washed then soaped up her body.