Gone West Read Free

turned to speak.
     
    “You good woman. Teach Indian boys white man’s words.”
     
    Maggie smiled. This could only be~
     
    “Straight Arrow and Running Bear my sons. Is good they learn. I come with thanks.” She burrowed out of her blankets and presented two furry lumps. Maggie accepted them gravely.
     
    “Rabbit. Good food.” The Indian woman’s eyes were slowly taking in the cabin. They stopped at the cradle, suddenly bright.
     
    “Baby!”
     
    In a moment she was kneeling next to Charlotte, cooing softly. Charlotte opened her eyes and smiled. “Strong baby.” The red hair was touched wonderingly. Then she was on her feet, walking to the two rabbits Maggie had set on the table.
     
    “Pelts. For girl child. Keep cold away from her.”
     
    Maggie fondled the soft fur. “How? How to cure skins?” She spoke slowly, hoping the woman would understand. She did.
     
    “My white name Flower Blossom. I teach, as you teach my sons.”
     
    Maggie poured Flower Blossom a cup of hot coffee. “That would be marvelous!”
     
    Flower Blossom appeared the next day, directly after lessons. Maggie fervently hoped she hadn’t been hovering outside in the snow, waiting. She feared the woman had. Maggie offered coffee and set freshly baked bread on the table while Flower Blossom removed her blankets and opened a small cloth filled with tools.
     
    “Rabbit?”
     
    Maggie presented the skins and had her first lesson in scraping and cleaning. It was the beginning of a friendship.
     
    Flower Blossom came each day, earlier and earlier, until she was sitting in on some of the lessons. Her English began to come more readily, although she never could get closer to “Maggie” than “Ma-gee”. Johnny had purchased his westering rifle and went off practicing with it when work was slow. Fresh meat began to fill the Stuart table, and Maggie and Flower Blossom had more skins to practice upon.
     
    The winter days went faster with Flower Blossom’s company as the two women traded recipes and skills. Moccasins were constructed for the Stuart’s feet, and snowshoes for the weather. Other information was traded, too. Maggie learned that Flower Blossom’s family was nearly destitute. They had lost their ancestral lands and were caught between two worlds, struggling to survive with honor. It was a new concept for Maggie, and she, in turn, struggled to grasp it.
     
    The white neighbors had not gone long in noticing this interchange. One evening just before Christmas a delegation banged on the door after the children had fallen asleep. Johnny was cleaning his musket and set it on the table with a questioning look at his wife as he crossed the few yards to the entrance. Four men barged in, blowing frost and snow into the cosy room.
     
    “Evening, gentlemen. To what do we owe this honor?”
     
    Maggie was already up from her chair, reaching for the coffee pot on its tripod over the fire. “It’s a cold night. May we warm you?”
     
    “Thanks, but no,” the leader spoke. Then he remembered to remove his hat. “I’m Phil Walters, and these here are some of your other neighbors hereabout.”
     
    Johnny nodded. “We’ve passed. I’m afraid we’ve been too busy to be as neighborly as we’d like~”
     
    “Too busy with them heathens, is what!” growled Walters. “It’s what we’ve come about. Ain’t Christian to be opening your door to all them Injuns. Up to now we’ve kept ‘em on the edge of town where they belong. You people keep lettin’ ‘em in, next thing you know, they’ll be begging at all the cabins!”
     
    Johnny stood by the table fingering his musket. “Our friends have not been begging. Our door is open to any of God’s people who seek our help or friendship.” His eyes met Walters’s directly. “That, sir, is Christian.”
     
    Maggie stood rooted by the fire, still holding the hot coffeepot. “I keep a little school here of a morning. If you’ve children of that age, I’d be delighted to