Agnes and the Renegade (Men of Defiance) Read Free

inside a small fenced pen near the corral.  
    Mr. Taggert helped them out of the wagon. Aggie looked around at the sea of prairie colors surrounding the cabin, finding herself eager to start working.
    “Well?” Mr. Taggert prodded, a hint of tension on his face.  
    She smiled at him. “It’s wonderful. Exactly what I was looking for.”  
    Mrs. Taggert drew her foster daughter back against her, and her hands folded over the little girl’s pinafore. “White Bird and I came down a few days ago to straighten the cabin and bring fresh linens, but let’s go inside to be sure you have everything you need.”
    Mr. Taggert opened the door for them, then started to unload Aggie’s crates and trunks. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust from the bright sun to the dim interior of the cabin, but when they did, she was thrilled with what she saw. The one-room cabin was larger than it seemed outside. In the far corner was a large bed with a pine headboard and footboard. The bed was made, and a stack of additional linens and blankets sat on the foot of it. There was a dresser with a pitted mirror and a large bowl and pitcher on it. Catty-corner to the door was a fireplace with a swinging iron pot arm. A square table with two mismatched chairs was pushed against the wall near the door. Another stack of linens was piled on it—tablecloths, dishtowels, and potholders. The walls inside were whitewashed stucco that had crumbled in some places, revealing the earthen bricks. A dry sink stood between the fireplace and the stove with a big tin washbasin on it. The cabinet held a full complement of the necessary pots and utensils. Cutlery was neatly arranged in the drawers. Stacked next to the fireplace was a pile of splintered wood for the oven. An ax hung to the right of the front door. Three kerosene lanterns were placed strategically about the room.  
    “This is wonderful, Mrs. Taggert. I think everything I’ll need is here.”
    White Bird lifted the bed skirt. “We brought you a tub, too, because the creek out back isn’t very big.”
    “And we had a small keeping box put in under the table,” Mrs. Taggert said as she pointed in that direction. “It’s insulated with sawdust. It won’t keep dairy goods cool for long, especially not with the summer heat coming in, but it will let you get a few days out of the dairy items we send down each week.”
    Aggie smiled; her cabin was perfect. The best thing was that there was enough space in the middle of the room for her to set up several easels and spread her work out, space to let her paintings dry and set.  
    “We’ll let you get settled now,” Mr. Taggert said from the doorway. “I’ll bring your horse down tomorrow. If there’s anything else you need, let me know or ask my men when they bring your supplies down each week.”

    Aggie made a simple supper of eggs and biscuits, then went outside to eat later that evening. She sank onto the bench in front of her house, exhausted but happy. The opportunity to spend a summer in this place didn’t exist even five years ago. It wouldn’t have been safe for a white person, alone, here in what had been the heart of Sioux country.  
    When she finished eating, she set her plate aside and listened to the sounds of nature around the cabin. It was quiet but not silent. Crickets, robins, larks, and sparrows chattered, busy in the fading light. A large hawk soared, his plaintive cry hovering overhead. The breeze, which was a tad too stiff to be called a breeze, made a sound as it cut around the cabin—not whine or a sigh, but maybe a bit of both. Down by the creek, the old cottonwoods’ big leaves flapped in the wind, slapping against each other.  
    The evening was cool, the sun low in the sky. The heat she’d expected when they left Defiance had never quite arrived. She wondered if the weather would step back into winter or jump forward into summer. Either was possible this time of year. She pulled her shawl tighter about