Chapter Fifteen—The Natives Are Restless

     Robin didn’t go into work at Kilmer Mining that day—Wednesday—following her adventure the previous night. She was still tired and so she went back to bed and slept until about 1. She did some chores around the house and stable, took a bath, and got ready for dinner that night with Sam Burke. She studied her wardrobe, tapping her finger across her lips…hmm, what am I going to wear? Something really nice for him…she picked out a light yellow dress that she had been told matched her coloring real well, and she hoped Sam approved. When she thought of Thomas Bering, there was nothing there any more. She didn’t despise him, she didn’t feel any attraction for him, nothing. What happened the previous night had burned everything out of her concerning him. She wasn’t sure how she’d feel once she saw him again, but she really thought that there would only be a working relationship between the two of them from now on. At least, from her perspective, and she had no intention of ever letting him get close to her again.
     She didn’t know what would happen between her and Sam, of course, but she was interested, perhaps more interested than she had been with any man she had met so far since returning to Whitewater. There was just that intangible something about him—and it doesn’t hurt that his smile reminds me of Rob…
     The evening passed without incident. He picked her up at 6, and took her to “The Miner’s Delight.” It was crowded, but not like the past Monday night. They made small talk. She found him intelligent, witty, humorous, and charming. And when he smiled and looked into her eyes, her blood pressure rose…I don’t know if I could ever think of him as “Sam”…he reminds me too much of Rob…There was something that passed between her and Sam. She could see it in his eyes and she felt it inside her. His look was never lustful, but it was appreciative, and he seemed to take a genuine interest in her. They finished dinner about 7:30 and he took her home, where she invited him in for awhile. He accepted.
     He sat in the same chair as he did last time as Robin made coffee and brought out some cookies again. “Sorry, the same batch as yesterday,” she said. “I was going to make some new ones today, but Aunt Martha said we had to eat these up first.” He laughed softly.
     “Well, these are excellent even if they are a day old.”
     Robin sat on the couch and wondered a little why he didn’t sit with her. And then she found out. “I’m probably going to be out of the area for awhile, maybe a month. UP has called me down to Dawes City, where we’re fixing to run a feeder line, and they want my opinion on the best place to lay the track.” He made a face. “I hate it when they do that. Pull me out of one place and send me to another, just like that.”
     Robin felt some disappointment, but she understood why he didn’t sit with her. It might be awhile before he saw her again and so best to keep some distance at the moment. She understood it and appreciated it. “Well, I hope you have a good trip,” she said.
     “I’ll come by when I get back, if you don’t mind.”
     She smiled. “I don’t mind at all. I hope you will.”
     In a small way, she was glad Sam was leaving for awhile. Her life had been a little complicated recently and she wanted a few days to breathe. Her job at Kilmer and the stress of that whole thing had frayed her nerves some. She also had her school materials that she needed to start sorting through, even though it was still only June. She didn’t want to get caught having to do it all at the last minute.

     Robin was still in a bit of distress over what to do about Thomas Bering. She didn’t trust him in the least and was less and less inclined to believe that far-fetched tale about children in Mexico. Of course he’d have some “reason” for embezzling money…he’s not stupid…So she thought she’d dump it on Len Kramer.
     Len took her to lunch again that day. He had some things he needed to tell her about a few accounts, “and it won’t be as boring over lunch. I hope,” he had said with a smile.
     During the course of the luncheon, Robin asked Len, “Did you know that Thomas was sending some money every month to his two children in an orphan’s home down in Mexico?”
     Len blinked at her. “No, I didn’t know that. He’s never mentioned having any children to me.” So he was lying to me Tuesday night. She wasn’t really surprised. A few minutes later, she asked Len, “Do you ever have an independent audit of the books?”
     Len hesitated, then smiled sheepishly. “Well, we haven’t in a while. Thomas does such a good job that it doesn’t seem necessary.”
     “I know I’m just a part-time flunky, but I think it would be a good idea to have one.”
     He looked at her strangely. “Why?”
     She shrugged. “As you know, I worked a little as an accountant before. The company always thought it was wise to do an independent audit on occasion.”
     Now his eyes narrowed. “Do you know something I don’t know?”
     She smiled at him. “Let’s just say that I like to be very careful when handling other people’s money. And that, since I’m human, I would think that the owner of that money would want to check occasionally just to make sure I wasn’t making any mistakes. I mean, it can happen to anybody when working with lots of numbers. And, of course, I would think he’d want to check my figures without telling me about it first.”
     Len stared at Robin for several seconds through those narrowed eyes. What she had said was about as subtle as a live stick of dynamite tossed in his lap. Then he looked away thoughtfully and said, “Yes, I can see the wisdom in that.” And he let it drop as did Robin.
     But Robin couldn’t help but smile inwardly. Maybe you can dream about me all the way into your jail cell, Lucifer Bering…

     Robin spent Saturday with Cameron Collins, riding around the XQL. It was a lovely sunny day, and she had prepared a picnic lunch for them. Cameron hadn’t anticipated that, but certainly didn’t object. He knew of a lovely little pond, which was surrounded by trees and fed by a high waterfall—at least 50 feet high. The pond then narrowed into a winding, chuckling stream that meandered out of sight.
     “It’s lovely,” Robin said with genuine feeling.
     “Well, you’re welcome to come out any time you want to,” Cameron told her.
     They enjoyed the lunch together, then rode around the ranch a little more, just talking and soaking in the lovely day. Even though Robin told him that he didn’t have to, Cameron insisted on riding back to town with her.
     “You might get lost on the way. Or kidnapped. Or snake bit. Or a meteor might fall on you. How would I ever explain that to your Aunt Martha?” he said.
     Robin laughed. She liked Cameron; he was a gentleman, but he was also all man. The whole day he had never said one untoward word or gave even the slightest hint that he wanted anything physical from her. Robin felt very comfortable and appreciated Cameron all the more for it.

     Lying in her bed that night, looking up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come, Robin thought about Cameron…and Chris…and Len…and Sam…and…Lucifer…
     And Rob Conners.
     Robin sighed. She liked men, and they liked her. She wasn’t a pants-chaser, by any stretch of the imagination, and she didn’t like skirt-chasers, but she had known a lot of men back east, and had been intimate with several of them, even serious a couple of times. But it did seem to her that, since she had been in Whitewater, there were a flurry of men in her life. She didn’t mind …but…so much…is it just coincidence? She thought so…but she wasn’t sure. Am I just trying to bury Rob under an avalanche of men? Or find someone to replace him? Whatever it was, it hadn’t succeeded. But he’s dead. Can I ever find that again? I will, I know I will, he’s certainly not the only one out there. And I’ll never, ever forgive him for lying to me, breaking his promise. It’s so hard to believe he’d do that. But I only knew him for one night. I’ll find somebody…Well, it didn’t really appear that the men of Whitewater were going to leave her alone. And she concluded that that might be a good thing—I simply MUST get Rob out of my mind, and she felt that the best way to do that was to keep her mind occupied with work, social activities, her girlfriends, and outings with the opposite sex. There were certainly plenty out there who seemed very attracted to her. And maybe one of them, maybe Chris, or Cameron, or Len, or Sam, or…somebody…could finally reach the depths that Rob had reached inside her. All we did was stare at each other…It made no sense to her. Maybe somebody could finally dig him out from where he was buried inside her. She smiled whimsically. She hadn’t thought of Rob one time the whole day with Cameron. She hadn’t thought either night with Chris. She hadn’t thought about him at dinner with Sam, or at any outing with Len. Completely forgotten…
     Forgotten…until it was over.
     And how much of being with them was an attempt to find the same thing I had had with Rob?….That question haunted her.
     Was he, in an odd way…controlling her life?

     Unbeknownst to Robin, Lieutenant Carson Veal and a small contingent of troops had arrived in Whitewater on Friday, the day before her outing with Cameron. One of her girlfriends had mentioned that night at dinner that she had seen a few army people in town, but Robin paid it no mind. Veal was there, of course, because Colonel Ratliff had sent him to talk to the mayor and city council. The news was frightening, to say the least.
     “You mean that there are over 2,000 savages getting prepared to attack Whitewater because of the mining on Turtle Mountain?” By this time, Ratliff’s scouts estimated at least 2,000 Indians in the canyon. The mayor of Whitewater, Randolph Grey, was horrified. He was a short, roly-poly man, with wire rimmed glasses and thinning gray hair. Deceptively intelligent and very wealthy, though nobody seemed to know where his money came from, and it was widely believed, but unproven, that he had won the mayoral office via the votes of a lot of people who had resided in Boot Hill at the time of the election.
     “That’s what we believe. We do know, for sure, that there are upwards of 2,000 Indians in that box canyon preparing for war. We aren’t completely sure that Whitewater is the target, but we do know that Turtle Mountain is sacred to them. And so we surmise that Whitewater is the likely intention. Wipe out the mining, at least.”
     “Well, what is the army going to do about it?” Harry Orbison, a member of the city council, asked. “Those mines bring in an awful lot of money to this town. We’d likely dry up without them.” Which wasn’t true—the drying up part—Whitewater had existed for 25 years before the mines because of the farming and ranching in the area. But it was true that the new mining industry had approximately doubled the size of the town and if it left, a good portion of the economy would go with it.
     “We have almost 200 troops at Fort Tyler, but Colonel Ratliff has wired Washington for aid, and we expect another 1,000 men very shortly. It’s all that can be spared for the moment because there is an increasing amount of Indian activity throughout the territory right now. We were wondering if Whitewater could supply some men to help with its defense.”
     The council members, and there were five including the mayor, glanced around at each other. It seemed pretty obvious to Lt. Veal that none of these men were prepared to raise a rifle. They’ll probably be the first ones on the stage out of town…Grey fidgeted and asked, “Lt. Veal, just when do you expect this…attack…to take place?”
     “It’s not imminent, that is to say, in the next week or so. But they are obviously preparing and the best we can estimate is within a month. We’re scouting them, every day, and getting reports. When it looks like they are ready to move, we’ll know it. Now, back to my question. Can Whitewater provide any men, regardless of how many, to help us out?”
     Grey fidgeted again, “Well, Lieutenant, our people are, uh, farmers, ranchers, businessmen. We aren’t gunmen. We look to the army to protect us.”
     “And we will do the best we can. But we are outnumbered here and perhaps you have some men who served in the army during the war.”
     “Well,” Grey said, “Let us call a town meeting to discuss the matter.” He said to the other council members. “Do you think we could get the word out about having a meeting this Sunday night?”……..
     And so it was decided. It didn’t take long for the word to spread through Whitewater that the head of any household was invited to an important town meeting at 8 PM Sunday night at the Whitewater Recreation Center. It was where dances and other social events were held, and seating for approximately 300 could be arranged. Nobody knew what it was about, but the rumors of Indian trouble were circulating, which created a lot of concern and fright. In spite of the mayor swearing all the council members to absolute secrecy, someone let the cat out of the bag. It might have been the Grey himself….

     Aunt Martha asked Robin to go in her stead. “Your Uncle Ben used to attend for us and I don’t really think I’d know what to do.” All she had to do was sit and listen, but she didn’t want to go so any excuse was as good as any other. Robin had never been to a town meeting before, so she was kind of interested in attending.
     The Rec Center was packed; in fact, there was standing room only. Robin arrived early enough to get a seat about halfway back, and the place was abuzz.
     “Somethin’ about Indians, is what I hear. Army will take care of it, I’m sure.”
     “Maybe it’s about the railroad…”
     “Then what would them army men be a-doin’ here?”
     “Well, they got to protect the railroad, too…”
     “From what?”
     “Well, train robbers and such…”
     “Such as Injuns….”
     Bottom line was, nobody knew anything, so Robin closed her ears and waited for the meeting to start.
     There was one surprise there for Robin. She saw Sam Burke walk in. He glanced around and happen to see her, smile, and wave. She smiled and waved back. He came over. There was a chair vacant next to her.
     “Do you mind?” he asked.
     “No, not at all. It’s nice to see you. I thought Union Pacific sent you to Dawes City.”
     He made an annoyed face as he sat down. “Yeah. I got down to Rogersville and had a wire waiting saying they decided they didn’t need me in Dawes after all. So they sent me back up here. I love stagecoaches…” he said, the irony in his voice more than evident.
     Robin laughed. “Yeah. Great way to travel, huh.”
     He asked her, “Any idea what this meeting is about? I’ve heard some scuttlebutt about Indians and thought it might be worthwhile to attend.”
     Robin shook her head. “Rumors is all. Nobody knows anything for sure.”
     “Well, I guess we’ll find out.”
     Mayor Grey didn’t call the meeting to order until about 8:10 to give some of the farmers and ranchers who lived out of town a little extra time to get there. But then, sitting with the entire council, plus Lt. Veal, behind a desk on a raised dais at the front of the building, he banged his gavel and asked for everyone’s attention. The room became quiet.
     “I know you’ve wondered why the council—“
     “Speak up, we can’t hear you,” somebody in the back shouted. Mayor Grey didn’t have an especially strong voice, unusual for a politician in those days.
     So the mayor lifted his voice. “I know you’ve wondered why the city council called you together this evening. There have been rumors flying about the town and we need to clear those up. We have with us tonight Lieutenant Carson Veal from Fort Tyler. He is going to explain the circumstance to you, and then we will take questions from the floor.”
     Veal stood up. His voice had no trouble carrying to the nether regions of the center. He succinctly and concisely summed the matter up. “The army has been monitoring the activities of approximately 2,000 Indians from various tribes who have gathered in a box canyon about 25 miles northwest of here. From all indications, they are preparing for military action. We do not know, for sure, what has caused this gathering of natives, not do we know their precise target, if they have one. But it has been suggested, and the army is taking it seriously, that the target might be Whitewater, and especially the mining interests here.”
     The last statement brought a buzz from the crowd. A lot of the men there worked for Kilmer Mining, and a lot of the rest made their living from money the mining brought in.
     Veal waited until the room had quieted down again, then continued. “Turtle Mountain is a sacred burial site to the Nipita in this area and it is distinctly possible that they intend to try to take it back. We, of course, intend to stop them. But we felt compelled to inform the city council and citizens of Whitewater so that you might consider any responses you wish to make. The army is only going to be able to supply about 1,200 troops, so if any men in here would be willing to help, we would accept your assistance. Generally, we do not call for a militia force any more, but in this case, we feel the action is justified. That pretty well sums the matter up, and I and the council will be happy to answer, to the best of our ability and knowledge, any questions you might have.”
     A moment of silence as the news was digested, then somebody stood up. “What is the army doin’ about this huge gatherin’ of savages?”
     “Well, as I said, we are monitoring the situation closely, getting daily reports of the Indian activity. Contingency offensive and defensive plans are being discussed at this very moment. I do not know if any final decision on a plan of response has been made. Colonel Benjamin Ratliff, the commander at Fort Tyler, is in charge of that and he sent me here before any plans had been finalized. But I assure you that we will keep the city council and the citizens of Whitewater fully apprised, every step of the way, as to what is being done to protect you. I seriously doubt the Indians will get anywhere near the town. Another question,” and he pointed at someone with a raised hand.
     “How soon do you expect the Indians to attack?”
     “On last report, which I was made aware of Wednesday before I left, it appeared that any Indian movement was not imminent. That is, within the next few days. They were making preparations, but were clearly not mobilizing. So we don’t expect any attack for at least another two or three weeks, at the earliest, but again, we have a man up there watching the canyon, and Colonel Ratliff is receiving daily reports from him, so if the situation changes, we will know it immediately.”
     Another question. “Mayor, are you and the council going to make any plans for evacuating the town in case worse comes to worst?”
     Mayor Grey seemed a little nonplussed by the question. It was obvious that such a possibility had not been discussed. “Yes…yes. We will certainly do that. But we have complete confidence in the army to handle this situation without such drastic measures.”
     Question: “How big did you say the Indian force is, Lieutenant?”
     “We have a rough estimate of around 2,000, with the possibility of more   arriving.” The low murmur again.
     Question: “What are you going to do to protect those of us who are farmers and ranchers who live outside of town?”
     “When we get word that the Indian movement is impending, we will inform everyone in the area. It would be our suggestion that anyone living outside the city limits come into town, or take part in whatever plan the mayor and city council concoct.”
     “But you said they were liable to attack the town.”
     “We are going to do everything within our power to prevent that.”
     Question: “If you know where they are, why don’t you attack them first?”
     “I’m sure that is one of the plans that Colonel Ratliff is considering. A surprise attack. But again, as far as I know at present, no decision has been reached on that matter.”
     Question, from somebody who obviously wasn’t listening when Veal gave his initial briefing: “Why all of a sudden is we havin’ Injun problems? We ain’t heerd nothin’ from ‘em in years.”
     “Well, as I mentioned, Turtle Mountain was once an Indian burial place. The Nipita in this region used it, though apparently some other tribes, such as the Santara, used it as well. Apparently, it was the only thing they could agree upon. Kill each other, but then bury all the dead in the same place.” That got a slight chuckle. “So they consider it sacred ground. Of course, it is now land belonging to the Kilmer Mining Company and they are extracting a significant amount of wealth from the mountain, as you all well know. But to the Indians, their sacred mountain is being defaced and they want to drive out the evil, greedy white man.” He said the last with such a tone of mockery that once again he got a ripple of laughs.
     For all the money the mine brought into Whitewater, Robin actually sympathized with the Indians a great deal. Geez, it was their land before we stole it from them, and now we don’t even have enough respect for their culture not to destroy something they hold dear. What kind of people are we?
    The questioning continued and Robin was more and more incensed at all the references to “vicious savages,” “they need to be wiped from the face of the earth,” “the only good Injun is a dead ‘un,” and similar type comments. Finally, not one to keep her silence when she felt something ought to be said, she raised her hand, and was finally acknowledged by Lt. Veal.
     “This lady over here has a question, I believe.” It had appeared that Veal had tried to ignore her because it wasn’t especially thought proper for women to speak in a gathering like this, especially if she was in jeans, like Robin was. In fact, there were probably no more than 10 women in the entire assembly.
     Robin stood up, still angry. “I know that the Indian peoples can be vicious and savage at times, but they don’t have a monopoly on that. I remind everyone of Sand Creek back in 1864.” A horrid, bloodthirsty massacre of an Indian village by American troops. The Indians were trying to surrender and had even raised an American flag, thinking that would protect them. Everyone knew about Sand Creek, and Veal’s face clouded over at the reference, though it was the Colorado militia, not the United States Army, that was guilty. Robin continued. “These natives are human beings—“
     “They’re savages,” somebody shouted, interrupting her
     But Robin persisted, her temper building, “Who are the real savages here? This was their land for thousands of years before we came in and stole it from them, and now all they ask is that we have the common human decency to respect a small piece of their heritage and culture and religion. What would we think of people who moved onto land that once belonged to us and started ripping up our graveyards? That mountain is something they have treasured for centuries, something they hold dear, and we’re destroying it. What kind of people are we?” Then she remembered something else. She reached into her pants pocket and pulled out the Indian bone she had picked up a few days earlier at the mining site. “I was up at the mines not long ago, and picked this up. It’s a bone, a small bone, it looks like a baby bone. I asked the foreman about it and he said they found plenty of Indian bones while digging. An old graveyard.” Robin was really angry now. “How many of you would like for somebody to come along and dig up the graves of your babies?”
     The place was so quiet one could have heard the proverbial pin drop. Robin was shaking she was so furious. Lt. Veal asked her, very quietly, “What do you propose that we do, miss?”
     “Give them their d----d mountain back!”
     The room exploded. It was unusual for a woman to attend one of these town sessions. It was almost unheard of for a woman to have the unmitigated gall to speak. And now, Robin was swearing at them. The hubbub and noise was so great, people shouting, cursing, screaming; nobody could hear anything distinct, just the voice of the mob.
     Mayor Grey was banging his gavel calling for “Order! Order! Order!”, but nobody was paying attention to him. Finally, there was a loud gunshot. Robin jumped and the room got quiet all of a sudden. She looked down to her right and Sam Burke was grinning at her, his pistol pointed at the ceiling, smoke coming out of the barrel.
     The mayor blinked at Sam a couple of times, and then simply said, “Thank you, sir. That’s certainly one way to get their attention.” Then he looked at Robin and said, “Miss…Morrow?, is it not? We appreciate your desire to be understanding and sympathetic to the traditions of others, but truthfully, the land is now ours. Technically, it belongs Kilmer Mining Company, because they bought it. I’m sure you realize how important those mines are to this town. They bring in a lot of money and provide a lot of jobs. The ways of the Indians are passing and almost gone now. Look around you at the audience. How many of these fine people would be out of a job if we closed down those mines?”
     To which Robin responded, gritting her teeth, “How many of these fine people are going to be dead if we don’t?”
     Another uproar, but this time the mayor stood up, hitting his gavel so hard he broke it. “Enough of this!” he said. “One more outburst like that and I will dismiss the meeting. Miss Morrow, please be seated. We will take your suggestion under advisement.”
     But Robin wasn’t quite through. “Can’t we at least talk to the Indians, see if some kind of compromise could be worked out?”
     “Miss Morrow, if you do not be seated and be quiet, I will have you escorted from these premises.”
     “You won’t have to, Mister Grey. I see no reason to stay and listen to you men plot the deaths of hundreds of people.” She picked up her stuff and walked out. There were a few jeers and catcalls, but most of the men at least respected her for the strength of her convictions and willingness to speak out. Not to mention the last thing she said—and that some of those men would probably be among the dead ones.
     Sam Burke stood up. He said, in a calm, sober, rational voice, “She’s right, you know. You could at least try to talk to the Indians before you started getting people killed.” He followed Robin out of the hall.
     It was quiet for a moment after he had gone, then Burt Draeger snarled, “Ye cain’t talk to savages.”
     “Shut up, Burt. We all know we cain’t talk to you.” Chris’s dad was livid, mainly because he hated Robin.
     Veal spoke up. “It’s your livelihood, gentlemen……….”
     Robin was standing outside, leaning on Roberta, her eyes closed, trying to calm her nerves. She was trembling, almost hyperventilating. But she took several deep breaths, and that seemed to help.
     “Are you ok?” she heard a voice ask, and turned to see Sam Burke standing there.
     “Oh, Sam,” she cried, and she threw herself onto his chest, weeping almost uncontrollably.
     He put her arms around her and stroked her hair. She only cried for about a minute, then wiped her eyes and said, “I’m sorry. That was…the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But they were making me so mad. So callous.”
     “Well, that was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen done,” he responded. “The whole auditorium was against you, but you stuck to your guns. A virtuoso performance, madam!” and he clapped lightly.
     Robin smiled at him. “Thank you.”
     “You didn’t change their minds, and you won’t. But at least you gave them a different perspective to think about.”
     She just nodded. more relaxed now, the nervous tension draining out of her. To her surprise, Sam put his fingers under her chin, lifted her face to him, and kissed her. She blinked at him when he broke the kiss.
     “What was that for?” she asked.
     “Because I didn’t do it the other night, and I wanted to. And also because I intend to do it again in the very near future.”
     She smiled. “Aren’t you being a little presumptuous, Mr. Burke?”
     He smiled, shook his head, and said. “Uh uh. Just truthful.”
     “Well, we’ll see about that,” she said cheekily, but she knew—and he knew—that his prophecy would more than likely be fulfilled. Robin liked this man. For the umpteenth time, she thought, His smile reminds me of Rob…”I need to go home,” she said.
     “Permit me to escort you?”
     She continued to smile, but shook her head. “Thank you, but it’s ok. It’s not far, I’m tired, and I just want to go to bed.”
     “Well, then, permit me to take you to dinner tomorrow night?”
     “That, I will permit you to do.”
     “Will you permit me to do this again?” He brought her to him and she lifted her head and he kissed her again. A much longer kiss this time as Robin put her arms around his neck.
     Once the kiss was over, with her eyes still closed, Robin whispered, “Very near future, did you say?”
     “Very near,” he replied, but let her go and she released him.
     “Tomorrow at 6?” he said, helping her up onto Roberta.
     “Tomorrow at 6,” she said, and with one last smile, she turned Roberta and rode away, feeling much better. Very near future…as in…tomorrow night?…The thought drew some heat into her body.
     Unfortunately, it was a date she wasn’t going to keep.

     She rode Roberta into the small stable behind Aunt Martha’s house, humming a little tune. She dismounted, and started to take the saddle off. But before she could get the saddle uncinched, somebody grabbed her from behind and put a cloth over her mouth and nose. She struggled, but couldn’t break free, and the more she breathed, the lighter her head felt. Very drowsy now…very drowsy…gray…black…nothing….