The Great Plains Read Free Page B

I’m concerned the only good Indian is a dead Indian.’
    â€˜Well, in the meantime we have the problem of your son to address. Might I suggest we promote the Harbison lad to store manager and perhaps Edmund should join the newspaper? He’s not been the same since Jenny’s death.’
    Aloysius was not immune to Clarence’s placating tone. Gathering up the newspapers, he sat back at the desk, his gaze wandering absently over the framed headlines from the earliest editions of the newspaper. Edmund, Aloysius’s youngest son, had been slow to mature and even slower to marry. With his wife dying in childbirth along with their hoped-for first child a year earlier, it was time the lad selected a new bride and got down to the business of successful breeding. ‘He needs a wife. There’s nothing like children to keep a man at the office. God knows, Annie and I managed three girls and two sons, which was enough to keep my nose to the mill.’
    â€˜So you’ll speak to him?’ Clarence confirmed.
    â€˜I daren’t send him out to the plantation or the farm. He’d be just as likely to give half the cotton and wheat we produce away.’ Aloysius poured two whiskeys from the cut-glass decanter on his desk and slid a tumbler across to his old friend. ‘What? You’ve got that look in your eye, Clarence, like you’re intending on a lecture.’ Aloysius took a sip of the strong spirit.
    â€˜I was thinking about the past, specifically your family’s,’ Clarence swallowed the whiskey in a single gulp. ‘I know how much you hate the Indians.’
    â€˜Apaches, I hate the god-damn Apaches, and I’ve every right. Twenty-three years, Clarence, and not a single word,’ he replied, clutching the glass.
    â€˜Until today.’
    Aloysius sat forward in his chair, a lock of greying hair fell across his brow. ‘What are you talking about?’
    Clarence withdrew an envelope from his coat and held it across the desk. ‘The letter came to my office,’ he stated by way of explanation. ‘Geronimo has surrendered.’
    Aloysius stared at his old friend as if the contents could be discerned from the intelligent eyes opposite him.
    Clarence sat the letter on the desk. ‘A Captain Henry Lawton and First Lieutenant Charles B. Gatewood have led an expedition that has brought Geronimo and his followers back to the reservation.’
    Aloysius reached for the envelope, flicked open the broken seal and unfolded the paper. ‘Why didn’t you tell me of this immediately?’
    â€˜Because wanting something doesn’t mean it will happen,’ Clarence replied. ‘There was a white woman with the Apaches.’
    Aloysius stood, his chair falling backwards to land with a loud thud on the timber floor. He scanned the contents of the letter.
    â€˜The similarities are strong,’ Clarence said evenly, ‘but obviously we cannot be assured that the woman mentioned is –’
    Aloysius tapped at the letter. ‘They say she is blonde-haired, striking in appearance,’ his eyes grew misty, ‘and aged in her thirties.’
    â€˜The details are compelling, I admit, but I urge you, my friend, not to get your hopes up,’ Clarence replied carefully.
    â€˜It’s her. It’s Philomena.’ Aloysius’s voice grew tight with emotion.
    â€˜I know how long you have prayed for this moment, Aloysius, but the probability that this woman is indeed your niece remains slight.’
    The single sheet of paper trembled between Aloysius’s fingers. ‘They have found my dead brother’s daughter.’ He looked to the ceiling. ‘God be praised.’
    â€˜If it is her,’ Clarence cautioned, ‘if it is indeed your niece, as your friend I can only advise you to temper your happiness until you learn the true nature of her state.’
    Aloysius frowned. ‘What rubbish are you speaking of,