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Authors: Tracie Peterson

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BOOK: The Coming Storm
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In spite of this boon to their ranching economy, however, Indian troubles were all around them. Over the last few years the government had gotten serious about restricting the use of liquor, and prohibition had come in full to the Indians. Of course, enforcing the law against liquor use was difficult due to the number of whiskey peddlers and the great love of firewater among the Blackfoot people and other tribes.

The Blackfoot Wars, as some had come to call the conflicts with that particular tribe of people, were settling down. There were even rumors—wishful thinking most likely—that an agreement between the Blackfoot and the government was soon to be signed. In 1874 Congress reduced the Blackfoot lands, stating that they had grossly overestimated the number of actual residents. Dianne saw it as nothing more than a ploy to further cheat the Real People out of their land. When Little Plume, a chief who did not take to liquor himself, became chief over the tribe, working closely with two other leaders, White Calf and Generous Woman, the white people hoped this would mean peace. The conflict with the Sioux, however, was unaffected.

With gold discovered in the Black Hills, the Sioux had found themselves displaced once again, with a frightful inpouring of whites to the Dakota hills. The names of leaders like Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull were often discussed among army folk. Zane had speculated that a major conflict was bound to come upon them and soon. The Indians already positioned in the Montana Territory were resentful of the newcomers, as they’d always been. It was no different that these tribes were suffering the same grievances that plagued the Blackfoot, Assiniboine, Kutenai, and Gros Ventre. The tribes that had always lived on these northwest plains and mountain regions did not wish to share their heritage with the Sioux, Cree, Shoshone, and Arapahoe. But still they came, just as the whites came.

Dianne felt sorry for the tribes, but not sorry enough to leave the land. She felt confident that a means could be established for the two groups to live together peaceably, but the government did not see it that way. Unfortunately, neither did most of the newcomers.

Towns were springing up everywhere, and with them came more politicians and government. Dianne didn’t mind the civilizing of the West. What she hated was that the newcomers were demanding to make it over in the image of the East. But if the eastern dudes wished to continue eating their large steaks and lamb chops, they would have to leave room for ranchers to raise their animals. Already there was talk of fencing and registering ranches and limiting free range. Cole and Gus talked about the issue often, and Dianne could see the flurry of conflicts that stood just beyond their door.

‘‘You feeling all right?’’

Dianne turned and saw that Zane had come to check on her. ‘‘Yes, I’m fine. Just thinking about all the strife and how much the territory has changed.’’

He came to join her. He looked handsome in his uniform of blue. Dianne noted the dark red neckerchief. Most of the men in the western army wore scarves of some sort to keep out the dust—especially during storms, when the wind blew harsh against their faces. Still, Dianne knew the army hadn’t regulated these scarves. Zane wore a scarf to match the unit of men he once again commanded. He was mighty proud of having regained his sergeant stripes.

‘‘Your men will be glad to have you back, but I shall miss you,’’ Dianne said, leaning over to hug her brother. ‘‘I wish you could stay until Christmas. That’s just a week and a half away.’’

‘‘I know, but there are others who’d like to share Christmas elsewhere, and I’m trying to be a considerate man.’’ He grinned, but it was hard to see his mouth under his newly acquired lip hair.

Dianne hadn’t gotten used to his mustache. It was very thick and gave him the look of one much older than his twenty-nine years. ‘‘Twenty-nine.’’

‘‘What?’’

Dianne shook her head. ‘‘I was just realizing that you’re twenty-nine years old.’’

‘‘I’ll be thirty next June,’’ he admitted. ‘‘Seems like a real milestone in the life of a person.’’

‘‘Do you ever think of marrying?’’

‘‘If the right woman came along, I might. So far I haven’t found that woman. She’d have to understand army life and be willing to move about and endure the worries of an army wife.’’

‘‘So you plan to stay in the army?’’ She felt a twinge of disappointment even in asking. She’d always held hope in the back of her mind that he might come and stay with them and take on some of the ranching—just as Trenton had done.

‘‘I like the army well enough. I don’t like the constant conflict with the Indians, but someone has to help keep the peace. That’s my focus. Keeping the peace.’’

‘‘But keeping that peace requires you to kill people. I know that goes against everything you stand for.’’

Zane looked thoughtful. ‘‘I feel compelled to consider the better good of the masses. I don’t like to see the Indians hurt, you know that. But the whites will come and continue to come. They won’t be stopped. Immigrants are flooding into the nation by the thousands. They want the land of milk and honey—well, they just want the land. Most can’t own property in their native lands.’’

‘‘Still, to come here and impose themselves upon us. We were born here.’’

‘‘We were and our parents were, but not our grandparents. Ma’s Dutch folks were no different than the Dutch immigrants coming now. They come with a dream to live a new life—to make a better way. The English are coming, the Germans, the Swedes . . . anyone who has a dream sees America as the place for that dream to come true.”

“And the price is to rob the Indians of their land—their way of life.”

“You’re thinking of the discussion on that new Indian law, aren’t you?”

“For lawmakers to sit in the capitol and declare that all Indians must be on their reservations by the end of next month or be considered hostile seems harsh.”

Zane nodded. “I know. But there has to be order. If the Indians don’t return to their reservations and set up their lives there, they’ll make war on the whites who come into the land, and we’ll be forced to get in the middle of it.”

“To kill the Indians, you mean,” Dianne stated more than asked.

“To keep the peace,” Zane said, his voice touched with sorrow.

Dianne undressed for bed, pulling on a very full flannel gown. She loved being with child, but she also looked forward to returning to her slim figure and old clothes. She wasn’t very fond of sack-style dresses that tied above the swell of her stomach, nor the oversized blouses and drawstring-type shirtwaists. She’d be happy to once again cinch her waist with a belt.

Sitting down at her dressing table, Dianne pulled the pins from her hair. The gold mass fell below her waist in a wave. With long, determined strokes, Dianne began brushing her hair. She relished this quiet time of night when she was alone to think. Cole would soon be up, and they would talk for a while in bed. He would then read to her from the Bible, and they would pray before going to sleep. She realized, as the baby’s time neared, that some of their most precious time together was the time they simply talked and shared their hearts.

Dianne felt the baby move and smiled. It was a good feeling. The baby moved less and less these days, and Koko assured her that meant the birth would be soon. Dianne could feel that the child had moved lower. It was hard now to walk, and sometimes the baby caused pain in her hip joint. Koko thought it to be because the baby was pressing on the blood flow. Dianne only knew that the baby was making him- or herself well known.

“We’ll have to settle on a name soon,” she murmured. She and Cole had been thinking for some time of what they would like to call the baby. Dianne had been partial to the name Martha, until Cole had brought her the book
Little Women
by Louisa May Alcott. Now she really liked the name Louisa May, as well as Amy, from one of the characters in the story. She thought the name Amy Selby sounded quite nice for a girl.

For a boy, they’d already discussed several possibilities. Cole was partial to the name Lucas, and Dianne had to admit she liked it. They could call him Luke. Other names discussed were William and Michael. John Selby also had a nice ring to it, as did Walter, but Dianne felt that Lucas would probably win out over the others.

Cole wanted very much for their first child to be a boy. Dianne honestly didn’t care whether it was a boy or a girl, but she wanted to please Cole and therefore hoped the baby would be of the male persuasion.

“As long as he’s healthy and strong,” she whispered. “I don’t care otherwise.”

She finished with her hair and had just crawled into bed when Cole opened the door to the room. “The wind’s picked up,” he said, smiling at her. “I hope that brother of yours had the good sense to ride at a quick pace back to the fort. I think a snow may be on his heels.”

“He’s smart; I’m sure he’s seen worse.”

“No doubt.” Cole deposited his jacket on a chair near the door and began unfastening the buttons on his vest. “So how are you feeling this evening, Mrs. Selby?”

“Tired but good. I’m anxious for the baby to come. I was just thinking again about names.”

“And what did you come up with?” he asked, casting the vest over the jacket.

“I think if it’s a boy we should go with Lucas. The more I try the name, the more I like it. It’s strong and has ties to the Bible. I liked your idea of using my maiden name for his middle name, so Lucas Chadwick Selby should suit him just fine.”

“And if it’s a girl?” Cole unfastened the few buttons on his shirt and pulled it off over his head. “There’s always that possibility.”

Dianne nodded. “I think I’m stuck on Amy. I just love that name. It’s all your fault for bringing home that delightful book.”

“As I recall, I brought you two delightful books.
LittleWomen
and
Les Mise rables
. Were there no perfect names in the latter?”

“None that I cared for,” Dianne admitted, thinking back on the characters. “I was deeply moved by the story, however. I think you’d like it very much. Funny,” she said, rubbing her abdomen, “I never really liked to read until moving here. In the evening, after work is done, reading has become a wonderful pastime.”

Cole finished undressing and slipped into bed beside his wife. Dianne snuggled into his arms and sighed. She loved being here more than anyplace else in the world.

“Hmm,” Cole murmured. “You’re nice and warm.”

“And you’re strong and make me feel safe,” Dianne whispered.

“I’ll always keep you safe, my love.”

“But bad times are coming. Zane said as much when he first told us of the government’s decision to round up all the Indians.”

“I know, but we can’t worry about it. We need to bide our time and see what happens.”

“What about Takes Many Horses?” Dianne asked, leaning up to see her husband’s face. “He’s out there somewhere. At least I hope he’s still alive. No one, not even Koko, has heard from him in all these years. Just that one visit in ’73. Now 1875 is nearly gone, and there’s still been no word. And a lot has happened with the Blackfoot tribe in the meanwhile.”

“If he’s dead, he’s beyond our worry. If he’s alive, he knows he’s welcome here,” Cole said thoughtfully. “My guess is that he’s alive and well. He’s a fighter and a good man. I think he’s still out there somewhere.”

“Then why doesn’t he come for a visit? I know Koko pines for him. She loves him so and worries about him.”

Cole shook his head. “I don’t know, Dianne. But George is his own man. He’ll come and go at his will, not our desire.”

“Do you suppose he’s on the reservation with the Blackfoot?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see a man like that penned up on a reservation, but then again, I can’t see any of those men penned up like that. If he feels it’s for the betterment of his people, he might go.”

“If he doesn’t go, the order says they may be considered hostile. Zane says that means they can be killed without question.”

Cole’s expression was loving. He caressed her cheek, warming her from the outside in. “He’s in God’s hands, sweetheart. We can stew and fret over him all we want, and it simply will not change what’s going on. I’m not pleased with the government’s new order. But I can’t change it either. If the Indians, no matter the tribe, choose to make a stand and fight the soldiers, then I can only imagine the outcome.”

Dianne settled back against her husband. “So much has changed. New people and ranches are springing up everywhere. Gus is worried about the sheep people and farmers who want to fence everything off. Towns are forming, and that means more rules and more troubles.”

“I know, but things will always change. Wouldn’t be alive without change. Even here,” he said, gently touching her swollen stomach. “Change.”

“It will be so different. You and me—parents. I sometimes wonder if I’ll be any good at it.”

Cole chuckled. “You are good at everything you set your hand to. Mothering will come naturally, I know. I remember you with your little sisters.”

“They weren’t infants. I helped a bit when they were young, but I never had to care for them as babies. I just worry that I won’t know the right things to do—that I’ll miss something and won’t keep him safe.” Dianne trembled at the thought of somehow failing to care for her baby, as she had failed with her mother.

BOOK: The Coming Storm
11.55Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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