Into the Wilderness. Laura Abbot

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      Lily put the letter aside and sought composure by going to the sewing cabinet to locate the pattern for Rose’s new dress. Only now in light of Lavinia’s vague promise could she admit how much she had counted on deliverance from this wilderness outpost. She tried to take each day as it came, but the fierce, unpredictable spring winds tried her soul and increased her longing to escape. At times she wanted to scream from sheer frustration.

      Rose had said something, but lost in her thoughts, Lily had to ask her to repeat it.

      “Dear sister, patience.” Rose wasn’t trying to irritate her, and, yes, patience was needed, but right now the advice rankled.

      “What’s the matter with me, Rose?”

      Her sister set aside her crocheting. “You really do want to leave. It’s more than a dream, isn’t it?”

      Lily sank back into her chair. “I’m so restless. Every day is like every other day. Rose, there’s a whole world out there, and I want to be part of it. If only I were a man, I could choose my lot and go wherever my fancy took me.”

      “I would miss you.”

      Chastened, Lily hung her head. “And I you.” She had thoughtlessly hurt her sister. The tug to home and to Rose and Papa was strong, but so was the pull of the exciting world beyond the prairie. Why couldn’t she lay aside these dreams that only grew more compelling with each passing day?

      “Are you very disappointed? Had you thought Aunt Lavinia’s invitation would come this soon?”

      Lily looked helplessly at her sister, unable to confess the degree to which she had counted on Aunt Lavinia to save her. “Mama wouldn’t like me to act like this. She would say everything happens in God’s time, not mine.”

      Rose nodded as if her suspicions were confirmed. “Then leave it to God.” She began crocheting again. “Meanwhile, I so love having you here for company. And take heart. Aunt Lavinia didn’t rule out a visit later in the year.”

      Lily unfolded the pattern, but, disappointed by the letter and consumed by guilt over how her departure would affect Rose, she couldn’t concentrate on dressmaking.

      * * *

      Several nights later, Caleb stretched out by the campfire, wearily resting his head on his saddle. This morning the cavalry had caught up with a band of Kiowas secluded in a small grove of trees. The soldiers had mounted a charge. Outmanned, the Indians had fired a few warning shots and then, to Caleb’s relief, had fled on horseback. Since the Washita, he had no stomach for engagement.

      He understood there was no stopping the westward migration of his own people, but at the same time he grudgingly admired the Indians, both those who came in peace and those risking their lives for their tribal lands and honor. Perhaps the Indians weren’t that different from the emancipated slaves with whom he had fought in the war. Rarely had he been in battle with more dedicated or able fighters. Yet so many of his fellows treated these so-called “buffalo soldiers” as inferiors and made known their prejudice both with their abusive words and their fists.

      Gazing up at the infinity of stars, Caleb wondered what God thought of the arrogant human beings He had created, so anxious to lord it over their fellow creatures whom they deemed ignorant or savage. Were the Indians and the former slaves that much different from himself? He suspected all any man wanted was dignity. Yet he knew firsthand that any one of them was capable of barbarity.

      Tired of his gloomy thoughts, he withdrew a worn letter from his pocket. Slowly he unfolded it and squinted to make out the words, although he had already practically memorized them.