By Way of the Rose (6 page)

Agnes and Paul left early the next morning. Their wagon had been decorated sometime in the night with all the flowers and ribbons from the Maypole.

Marion had tears in her eyes as she watched them go. “I will miss her. I can't believe my first daughter is already leaving the nest.”

Daniel put his arm around her. “That's how it's supposed to be, momma bird.” He kissed her. “She will make her own nest now.”

John tried to keep his promise to Agnes, but over time the fighting between the brothers became more and more frequent. Each fight was a little worse than the one before. John steered clear of Nathan as much as possible, but it didn't work. Nathan knew exactly how to provoke him: Sarah was the key and he used it often. John bit his tongue but his temper got the better of him and despite his best intentions there would be an argument.

About three months later, they received their first letter from Agnes. She and Paul had settled in Kansas and were very happy, she wrote. They were within walking distance of a small town. She wrote about the cabin they were building and the curtains she was making. They had some friendly neighbors who were helping them raise the walls and they were nearly finished. They couldn't leave the claim until next spring but she said they would come home for a visit then.

John noticed that his mother carried this first letter around in her apron pocket for days. He supposed that was her way of feeling close to Agnes.

With Agnes gone, Cora was given more duties around the house. She must start helping Marion more. Watch the twins, set the table, help with the laundry and wash dishes. This left little time for her romps with Nathan and John knew that he must feel that even his improvised ‘brother’ had been taken from him.

“Why can't Sarah do something around here?” Nathan fumed one day when Cora had been made to stay home when he wanted her to go fishing with him. “Sarah hardly ever does anything around here! It's not fair!”

“Sarah has her chores, Nathan. They're appropriate for her age. I'm sorry, but I need Cora to stay here today. She can go fishing with you tomorrow. This is baking day and I need her to help with the twins.”

“It's not fair!”

“That's not a fair thing for you to say to me! Shame on you! Why don't you go out and chop up some wood and wait to go fishing until Cora can go with you?”

“While John and Sarah are free to go to the library and do nothing?”

“Well, you can go to the library too. You can go fishing. You've done your work. But if you keep standing here pestering me, I'm going to find some work for you to do.”

“It's no fun by myself.”

“Well, there's two people leaving for the library who would be glad to have you join them.”

“I'd rather chop wood!” He stomped out.

“Poor child,” Marion shook her head. “He's never happy.”

Time passed. Agnes wrote often. They all anxiously awaited her spring visit as the winter months slowly dragged on.

Agnes made sure, when she wrote home, to never let her folks know how terribly frightened she was to live out here on this Kansas Prairie. Indians had been growing more hostile towards the settlers. Some had raided her neighbors and the store in town. They mostly took the white man's “:thunder sticks” as they called guns. So far, no one had been harmed, but Agnes feared them and what their reasons might be for obtaining so many weapons. Whenever she left the cabin, she took a rifle with her. No matter if she were just milking the cow or gathering eggs, she dared not be without it.

Paul worked the field from sun up till sun down leaving Agnes alone with her thoughts all day. She cooked and cleaned and tried to keep herself occupied and happy. Mrs. Tanner, their neighbor three miles away, often stopped by on her way into town. Today her visit was most welcome.

“Oh, Mrs. Tanner. I'm so glad to see you!” Agnes smiled. “Please come in and have some tea with me. It gets so lonely around here.”

“Don't mind if I do. I would enjoy the visit.” She stepped through the small door of the cabin.

“I've been so anxious to show you the new curtains. I finished them just last week.”

“Oh, that fabric you picked out did make some lovely curtains, didn't it?” Mrs. Tanner walked over to the window to examine the work. ‘Why, this stitching is better than my own and I've sewn for years.”

“I don't know about the stitching, but they turned out just beautiful thanks to the pattern you lent me. I'm so proud of them. Paul says I go on over these curtains more than I do over my wedding ring.” She laughed. “I suppose it's because they're the first things I've ever made for my own place. I'm starting to feel like a real homemaker.”

“Well, I'm glad you liked the pattern. You are a right nice home maker. Your place is sparkling clean.” She sat down as Agnes poured them each a cup of tea. “Why don't you come to town with me. It'd do you good to get out for a while.”

“I don't know. I've not been feeling all that well the past few days. I get tired so easy. I hate to say it, but I think I might be pregnant.”

“Why would you hate that?”

“Because I want to go home this spring and I can't if I'm pregnant.”

“Maybe your folks can come out here.” Then with a hearty laugh she said, “One thing's for sure, we're both going to have to get busy sewing if you're pregnant.”

“Oh yes, indeed,” Agnes agreed. “Oh, let me give you back your pattern before I forget.” As Agnes stood she heard the sound of horses approaching the cabin. Her heart pounded, yet she tried to stay calm. “I— I wonder who that could be.” She walked to the window and looked out. The color drained from her face as she turned toward Mrs. Tanner.

“Oh my God!”

“It's Indians, isn't it?” Mrs. Tanner leapt from her seat.

“Yes, yes! Quickly, barricade the door while I get the gun!”

“Barricade? With what?”

“Anything! Get the table, chairs!” Mrs. Tanner rushed with the chairs but she was too late, the Indians broke through the door. Mrs. Tanner retreated to the far side of the room while Agnes aimed the gun and fired it into the group of renegades.

From atop the ridge Paul saw the Indians as they pushed their way into the house. He began running. He stopped cold in his tracks as he heard a gunshot. Agnes’ screams could be heard echoing through the countryside. Then another gunshot. Suddenly, all of the yelling stopped. Paul began to run with all his might. He tripped and landed hard on the ground. But just as fast as he hit the ground he stood back up and ran faster toward the house. He saw Indians emerge from the cabin and gallop away on their horses.

“Agnes! Agnes!” He screamed as he neared the cabin. But she didn't answer him. He ran toward the door. Nothing could have prepared him for this gruesome scene. Beyond the dead Indian lay Mrs. Tanner in a pool of blood. He heard a faint moaning sound from behind the overturned kitchen table. He bolted toward it and pushed it aside. There lay Agnes on the floor in another pool of blood. Blood that flowed from a gaping wound in her belly, and from a lesser but even more sickening wound where she'd been scalped. “Agnes!” Paul wailed out. He bent down and took her in his arms. “Oh, those savages!” he cried. “I never should have brought you here! I shouldn't have! Oh, my sweet Aggie. Don't leave me.”

“Shh,” She whispered. “It's not your fault. Hold me close. Just hold me.”

“I'm holding you. I've got you.”

“I— I love you.” She said, and she was gone.

“No!” He screamed out. “Oh, God no! Agnes, come back to me. Agnes, please come back!” Paul sat there holding her until that afternoon when Mr. Tanner, in search of his wife, stumbled upon the horrid scene.

“Hannah!” He fell down to his knees beside her. “Your hair. Your beautiful hair!” he cried. “What have they done to you? I should have been with you!” Paul stood up from the floor.

“She was lucky, the savages killed her then scalped her. They took my Aggie's scalp while she was still alive! Rotten bunch of devils!” Paul was filled with hate, the kind that makes shivers prickle all over your body— the kind that can rip the life out of anything it chooses.

Paul noticed one of Agnes’ curtains lying on the floor where it had been ripped from the window. “She was so proud of these.” He whispered as he picked them up. “She was so proud.” He began to cry as he buried his face in the fabric. “Aggie!” he screamed out. The pain resonated in his voice. “Aggie!”

It was late evening when Marion heard a knock at the door. “Why, Mr. O'Leary! Come in.” Marion held the door open for him to enter. His usually bright and chipper face wore a serious, even grim look. “Is something wrong, Jacob? You look a bit under the weather this evening.”

“I think we should all have a seat. I have some bad news. Really bad.”

“What's the matter?” Daniel asked.

“Maybe the children should leave the room first.”

“Yes, of course.” Marion ushered them out.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this. But Paul didn't want you hearing it in a letter.”

Marion looked at Daniel then back to Mr. O'Leary. “What's happened? Is it Agnes? Is she sick? I knew she was too frail to live a life on that rough Prairie.”

“Oh, ma'am, this is hard... this is so hard to say. I don't know an easy way of putting it so I'm just going to come right out with it. She's been killed, ma'am.”

Marion felt all of the air leave her body as she let out a horrific scream that brought the children running back into the room.

“What's wrong?” John demanded.

“Please children, get back to your rooms just for now.” Mr. O'Leary spoke softly.

“Yes, sir.” They obeyed.

John and Nathan listened to the conversations through their bedroom door.

“What happened?” Daniel asked again. There was a tremble in his voice.

“It was Indians. Paul was in the field when he saw them. He tried to get there. But it all happened too quickly, he said. But he wanted you to know that she went down fighting. She killed one before they took the gun and turned it on her.”

“I can't believe it. She's gone. Agnes is gone!” Marion wailed. Though it was obvious his own pain was overwhelming, Daniel tried to comfort her.

“It's all right. She's in a better place now.” He placed his hand over hers.

“I'll never see her again. My girl... I'll never see her again!” She cried into Daniel's shoulder as he wrapped her in his arms.

John listened in shock.
No! This couldn't be true! Dear, sweet Agnes, she couldn't be dead!
Into this moment of grief Nathan chose to throw one of his most blistering comments. “See what you're precious savage Injuns can do? They're nothing but animals and we've got one of them in our very own house!” John threw Nathan to the floor and drew his fist back. Then he heard Agnes’ voice in his ear. “Don't, John. You promised me.” John slowly stood up trembling in fear and remorse. He had to get out of here. He had to get away from Nathan! He bolted from the room past Marion, Daniel and Mr. O'Leary, then out of the house.

“I think I will go along now and leave you all to your grief.” Mr. O'Leary slowly stood up and started toward the door.

“Thank you for coming by and letting us know.” Daniel shook Mr. O'Leary's hand. “I know it wasn't an easy thing to do.”

“She was like the daughter I never had. It breaks my heart, it does.” Mr. O'Leary bowed his head and left.

“John must have overheard.” Marion said through her tears. “I must go to him.” She quickly followed Mr. O'Leary out of the cabin.

Daniel sat there alone for a few minutes still trying to absorb the news he'd just heard. One of his children was dead? It seemed as if he were in an awful dream, one that he desperately wanted to wake up from. But he knew the relief of morning would never come to him or to anyone in his family. This was no nightmare. He would never wake up. Agnes was gone and she would never come back.

Marion walked to where John stood. She placed her arm around him to steady herself and also to comfort him. “Momma, I can't stay here anymore,” He cried. “I have to go.”

“Don't do this to me. Not now, not tonight.”

“I promised Aggie I wouldn't cause you any trouble with Nathan. But I can't keep that promise if I stay here. I'll fight him, I know I will and that would just kill me!”

“Wait. You promised me that you would wait until you were fifteen. What about your promise to me?”

“Momma, I'll be fifteen in two months. You have to let me go!”

“I know. I know, John. Give me time to get over this, then you can go.”

“I will. Thank you, Momma. I love you so much! I'm so sorry about Aggie. I'm so very sorry!” He sank, weeping into his mother's comforting arms.

Over the next gloomy days they all tried to come to terms with their tragic loss. Daniel Jr. came home for the week with his wife, son and baby daughter. The joy of spending time with them all, helped soften the terrible blow for Marion. But there was a lingering bitterness that would not leave. A bitterness that emerged whenever she looked at Sarah. She didn't want it to be there, Sarah had meant so much to her, but Agnes was her blood child and she had been murdered by Indians. This same savage blood ran through Sarah's veins. Sweet Agnes had been murdered by
Sarah's people
. When she looked at the child she didn't see her lovely adopted daughter, she saw Indian savages snuffing out the life of one of her own! In her own private battle she tried to overcome these feelings. Nathan made this task as hard as he possibly could for her. He seemed determined to use this grievous loss to forward his own hate against Sarah.

John constantly bit his tongue and she knew it was because he felt he had to keep his promises to both Agnes and her.

A few days had passed when Daniel joined Marion beside the graves of Matthew and the Indian woman. As he placed his hand on her shoulder she quietly sobbed, “I don't know what to do.”

“The sadness will pass.”

“The sadness isn't what bothers me, it's the hate. I've never had hate like this and it scares me. I love Sarah, but every time I look at her all I can see is Agnes suffering and dying. Why did this happen to us?” She began to weep. “We've always tried to live right. We've always helped people and loved everyone. We ignored the danger and took in an Indian orphan. This is how we're repaid? Our own daughter's life snuffed out before she's had a chance to really live it! Why?” Marion cried out as she dropped to her knees and pounded her fists on the grave of the Indian woman. “Why! Why! Why!”