Long Journey Home: The Cordelia Chronicles, #2

By Deborah Howard

Cordelia Lawson is summoned back to her home in Baltimore—without her beloved Robert. There, she learns to move forward with her life, overcoming a new set of obstacles and challenges. She settles into some semblance of normalcy, then hears that Robert has been found. Rushing to Hot Springs, Arkansas, the man she finds there looks like Robert, speaks like Robert, but is he the one she's loved and longed for? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lewis Publications, LLC
• Release date: Jul 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215935491

Book preview

Part One

One

April 2, 1869

In his office, a red-faced General Grierson huffed and puffed as he paced before Cordelia Lawson, standing still as a statue before him. General George Armstrong Custer lounged in a chair leaning back against the wall, his smirk revealing his obvious enjoyment of the spectacle before him.

General Grierson roared, "Madam, I don’t know what they think where you come from, but around these parts it is absolutely prohibited for a white woman of your background and sophistication to live among these heathens. Why, it’s unheard of! Unthinkable! What about your reputation? Doesn’t that matter to you? It should. And even if you believe your reputation is inconsequential, what about that of your late husband? It will tarnish his reputation as well. I will not have it, I tell you. Is that clear, Mrs. Lawson?"

Yes, General, Cordelia murmured sweetly. Lifting her chin in defiance, she braced herself and continued. However, I don’t see it as a matter of reputation. Instead, it is a matter of opportunity—one of vital importance for me to experience, in the best way possible, the customs and traditions of the Cheyenne before they are wiped clean off the face of the earth. This is an opportunity I shan’t pass up—an opportunity to learn by living, to glean by sharing. They have invited me to live among them. I do not intend to become a Cheyenne, sir, but merely to understand their ways and to record my findings for posterity. Why should that tarnish either reputation? No, General, I have listened to your objections and still I choose to live among the Cheyenne.

Are you daft, woman? Or deaf? he shouted. "I said I will not have it. And I will NOT. You can turn around right now and go back to Fort Cobb, or go back east, as far as I’m concerned, but as long as you remain under my authority, you will not live among the savages. If I had known of your intent to come all the way down here, I would have forbidden it. We are living in little more than tents right now. It will take months, perhaps years to construct this fort and to make it habitable for guests. You’ll have temporary quarters for now. But this is only temporary. I want you out of here and back to…wherever you want to go at the very earliest opportunity possible. After you’ve rested from this trip, I’ll send a detail of men myself—to escort you back to Fort Cobb. What you do after that is your business. That is your only option, madam. Is that clear?"

Cordelia looked beseechingly toward her friend, George Custer.

Don’t look at me, my dear, shrugging, he smiled at her, raising his hand as if to block her glare. It’s looks as though you’ve finally met your match.

Surely, Cordelia had never met with such an obstinate man—no one with such vehement objections to her plans. Yes, others had tried to dissuade her, but all had finally acquiesced to her desires. Or at least they had pretended to. She stole another glance at George Custer.

General Grierson was certainly different from General Hazen at Fort Cobb. She feared she had met an impasse with this fiery general. Her mind whirred as she desperately sought a logical argument with which to counter his solid stance on the matter.

Admitting that there were no logical arguments, she couldn’t resist one last effort to gain some ground with this stubborn general.

I’m afraid I must correct you on one point, General.

Yes? And just what is that?

"Captain Robert Lawson is still my husband, sir, not my ‘late’ husband. He is missing, but there is no evidence whatsoever of his demise."

Grierson stole a quick glance at General Custer before continuing in a gentler tone, My mistake, madam. I’m afraid I may have been misinformed. He offered her a little bow.

Neither of them spoke for several long moments.

Finally, Custer broke the silence. May I offer a compromise, sir?

Yes, of course, General. Grierson seemed relieved to hear his suggestion.

Mrs. Lawson has developed a rather unique relationship with this particular tribe. She has their ear and their trust. They have been an unruly lot, as you know. They were the last tribe to come in and I fear they may yet try to escape. It might be beneficial to have such a friend in their midst. If it is truly her desire to document ‘for posterity’ the ways of these Indians, I say, ‘Let her!’

What? General Grierson began, his cheeks scarlet once more.

Now hear me out, sir. What if she were to live under your protection here on the fort, but with your authorization for frequent visits to these people? She could gather her information and still live a somewhat civilized existence right here.

Cordelia turned hopeful eyes to the still steaming general.

General Custer, he said reluctantly, You know we’re not equipped to house a lady here. Yet, if she’s willing to bear with the inconveniences of frontier life, I suppose your proposition would be satisfactory. But, he quickly continued, I will have to insist she keep this office apprised of her movements to and from the Indian encampment—and refrain from going there without an escort. And, as far as I’m concerned, this is still a temporary arrangement.

Cordelia? Custer prompted.

Masking her gratitude to General Custer, she said, Very well. For the time being, that should be satisfactory.

Good, both generals replied in unison.

Cordelia, still not completely happy about this turn of events, turned to leave. If the truth be known, all she wanted at this very moment was a soft bed to lie on so she could sleep for about three days.

The journey by wagon train from Fort Cobb had been five long days of bone-jarring, muscle-pummeling exhaustion. Fortunately, they had not run into bad weather or attack from renegade Indians. The trip, much to General Custer’s annoyance, had been most uneventful.

General Grierson opened the door to his office, one of only two completed buildings on the fort so far—the other being his quarters—and Cordelia quietly walked out of his office and into the cool April night. Minnie, her Indian interpreter, and friend, who had waited outside for her, quickly trotted to Cordelia’s side.

General Grierson barked a command to take them to one of the officer’s quarters. A private saluted him and picked up several bags from outside the door. Cordelia carried her basket and Minnie followed behind carrying their bulky quilt and blankets from home.

The moon peeked from behind the clouds and shone on a huge tree-lined quadrangle with a flagpole in its center. On the opposite side of the quadrangle from the office stood a humble but sturdy picket house for the general. Some quickly constructed buildings stood on either side of his quarters but they were more like shacks than houses. The other three sides of the quadrangle, with the exception of the headquarters, were lined with tents—rows and rows of tents.

Cordelia looked back toward the office and saw George, a mere silhouette in the doorway, looking after her. He waved to her and she lifted her hand in return but neither spoke.

Private Colson led them directly across the quadrangle toward the general’s quarters and then turned abruptly to the right. Without even a porch or boardwalk, he strode directly to the door of the hovel before them and threw it wide, dropping the bags unceremoniously inside on the rough, plank floors. As Cordelia and Minnie followed him in, they noticed how quickly he set about his business of building a fire in the tiny fireplace, lighting the two lanterns in the room, and brushing off one of the two wooden chairs in the room. With a curt nod in their direction, he said, I reckon we’ll have to fix this place up a little if you two are gonna stay ‘round here. Maybe in the mornin’ we can get you a table and fix you up a bed.

Seeing the bewildered expression on Cordelia’s face, he added, I know it ain’t much, ma’am, but it will keep you warm and dry for now. And don’t be afraid here neither. We got good men posted all through the night. We won’t let nary a thing happen to you. Without waiting for a response, he slammed the rickety door behind him.

In her life, Cordelia had never seen such a shabby abode. She struggled with dismay as she thought about having to make this dark, gloomy room her home, but she tossed her worries aside for now.

The warmth of the fire was working its magic. She didn’t remember ever being quite so exhausted before. Her weariness was bone-deep.

Minnie hurriedly began laying out the blankets and the quilt on the floor before the fire, making them each a pallet on which to sleep. She didn’t say a word about their living conditions.

Minnie, whose real name was Min-nin-ne-wah-hah-ket, was a Cheyenne princess. Her father, Little Robe, succeeded Black Kettle as chief of the Southern Cheyenne a few months ago, after the Washita massacre.

Cordelia knew that at the Indian encampment outside this new fort, Minnie’s lodge would already be set up. The big fire would blaze from the center of the tipi, bathing her family in warmth and comfort. She could be there now but instead, she chose to stay with Cordelia here in this dank, dark room.

Cordelia could think of nothing to say to communicate her appreciation. She merely hugged her and said, Our lives have taken another turn, my friend. We’ll be able to think about it more clearly in the morning. Let’s try to get some sleep, shall we?

Minnie nodded.

They wrapped themselves in the blankets and used their bags as pillows. The last thing Cordelia remembered was hearing the hoot of an owl and watching the licking tongues of red-orange flame in the fireplace. She closed her eyes and drifted into a sleep too deep for dreams.

~*~

The sun was high in the sky by the time Cordelia awoke. She rolled onto her side and tried to settle back to sleep. A movement caught her attention as she spied Minnie sitting in one of the primitive chairs next to the small window overlooking Camp Washita. The sun’s glow bathed her face in light as she watched pensively out the window.

Cordelia’s heart seized within her at the sight of such sorrow in her friend’s young face. Minnie had been through so much in the past few months, starting with the massacre of her people at the Washita River last November. Only fifty-three captives had been brought back to Fort Cobb. The others in her village were either killed or had somehow managed to escape the savagery of the soldier’s ambush.

While attending the needs of her people in the frigid blockhouse used as a jail for the captives, she was rousted by two soldiers and led outside. General Custer awaited her there and requisitioned her as an interpreter though she knew not one word of English. Forced to accompany him, they rode off to seek out Indians of all tribes.

According to General Custer, he was out to try to save them from further violence. The word had to be spread that all Indians who failed to come into the protection of Fort Cobb would be considered hostile and would be hunted down and killed. But if they would only come in to the fort, they would be protected and given rations of food and clothing. He figured that this beautiful Indian maiden could help him in that regard.

Though they’d ridden out of the fort together, they didn’t remain so for long. Custer, who always traveled with his many hounds, came upon one of them who had gotten the worst of an encounter with a porcupine. He jumped from his horse and attended his dog, leaving Min-nin-ne-wah-hah-ket unattended upon his horse, Dandy. Taking this opportunity to escape, the young Indian girl had kicked Dandy’s sides, hoping to ride away from her captor.

But Custer, an excellent horseman, had trained Dandy himself. Even though she kicked furiously, he would not budge. Near hysteria, she’d dropped to the ground and made a run for it. Since General Custer was delicately picking the bristly quills from his dog’s bleeding muzzle, he let the girl go. She was of no real concern to him anyway. It hadn’t taken long to figure out she didn’t know a word of English. He’d planned to take her back to the fort anyway.

Little did he know that she would quickly run into trouble. A soldier, whom she never identified, accosted her, cut her hands free and pretended friendship to her. When he made lewd advances toward her, she bit his hand. Infuriated he had slugged her repeatedly, then pinned her to the ground. Intending to kill her, he thrust the cold barrel of his Colt into her mouth and pulled the trigger.

Turning her head at the last second saved her from death as the bullet savagely tore through her right cheek, leaving a gaping and bleeding hole in her face. The percussion of the gun blast must have knocked her unconscious. When she came to, drowsy and confused, she tried to stumble back to the fort but fell headlong down the steep side of the plateau where he’d left her for dead.

Cordelia’s husband, Captain Robert Lawson, discovered her body and surreptitiously delivered her to the military doctor at Fort Cobb where she was given professional care. Doc Anthony did all he could to stop the bleeding and close the gaping wound in her cheek.

Cordelia took the Indian into their quarters and with the help of Bess and Lucy, her housekeepers, nursed her back to health. However, the woman’s beauty was forever destroyed by the scar that turned upwards from the corner of her lips into a maniacal smile, permanently etching her with this disturbing countenance.

While she healed, she became a member of their little family, quickly picking up the language and becoming proficient in performing the chores assigned to her. Content to live in the white man’s world, she joined Bess and Lucy in serving Cordelia and the captain.

While in their service, she was introduced to the kindness of Robert’s best friend, Todd Otis, a 1 st Lieutenant. Though Todd was a jovial, good-natured man, he showed Minnie great compassion and tenderness in trying to overcome her fear of soldiers. In the process, poor Minnie developed a strong attachment to her new friend whom she called the lieutentant, who was unable to show her anything but friendship. Todd was completely devoted to his wife and baby and anxiously awaited their arrival to the fort. Minnie had to accept that.

Finally, the blessed day came when Todd was reunited with his wife and baby girl. The only thing that marred their joy was his wife’s health. Nicole struggled to gain some strength as they settled into a comfortable existence at Fort Cobb.

Meanwhile, Captain Robert Lawson was given the responsibility to escort some traveling dignitaries to Camp Supply. On the way back from this assignment, Captain Lawson’s men were ambushed by renegade Indians. Robert single-handed held them off while the rest of his men escaped. He was to bring up the rear but when he never appeared behind them, his men circled back to the site of the attack. Though several bodies lay strewn over the rock outcroppings, Robert’s was not among them. In fact, there was no sign whatsoever of Captain Lawson. After several search parties scoured the area, finding nothing but a pool of dried blood on a rock outcropping, he was presumed dead.

Only Cordelia clung to the hope that her beloved Robert was still alive. Because no one could find a logical solution to the problem of his whereabouts, she decided she would not accept his death until she had some evidence of it.

Tragically, Nicole died, leaving poor Todd broken-hearted. Bess’s daughter, Lucy, became the nanny for little Nora Alice, Todd’s infant daughter. On the heels of Nicole‘s death, the commander ordered that the forced march of the Indian tribes should begin. It had been decided to open a new fort closer to the border of Texas and it was to this new fort, called Camp Washita or the Camp at Medicine Bluffs, that General Custer with his 7 th cavalry ushered the tribes of Arapaho, Kiowa, and reluctant Cheyenne.

In an impulsive decision, Cordelia chose to travel south with the Cheyenne, whom she’d befriended, and live with them at the new reservation. She abandoned the suggestion to travel back to her home in Baltimore. She wanted to be close to Fort Cobb when Robert returned home again.

Then there was the other matter—the matter of the child she carried. In Cordelia’s mind, the Cheyenne would provide the perfect solution for her when it came time to deliver the baby, due in September. The doctor at Fort Cobb had little experience with such things. Cordelia had asked Minnie to accompany her to serve as an interpreter among the Cheyenne.

Minnie struggled briefly over this decision, wanting to stay at the fort near Todd, but also wanting to be of continued service to Cordelia, who had saved her life. Minnie accepted Cordelia’s request. They both intended to live among Minnie’s people in the Cheyenne encampment.

But now General Grierson had put another obstacle in their way. Cordelia realized he would never change his mind about allowing her to live among the Cheyenne. So now it was this… shack… that would serve as her home as she awaited word of Robert—until General Grierson ordered her back to Fort Cobb, that is, which he indicated would be sooner rather than later.

Minnie looked forlorn as Cordelia studied her profile, unblemished and perfect from this side. It was the other side that was so terribly marred.

I’m so hungry, Cordelia said.

A startled Minnie jumped in her seat at the window.

I did not know you wake, ma’am.

What time is it? she asked, stretching.

Minnie, with another look at the sun’s position, replied, After noon now, ma’am.

Is it? Cordelia sat up. I can’t believe I slept so long on this cold, hard floor. I really was exhausted. I have to find a privy pretty soon, too.

Standing, she motioned for Minnie to come with her. Cordelia fussed with her hair for a moment and allowed her hand to follow her long braid down her back. This, she’d found, was the easiest way to manage her unruly red curls for the trip south. It would do for today, as well, she quickly decided.

The door opened to a brilliant, crisp afternoon. Cordelia squinted into the sun and relished the warm feel of it on her skin. Suddenly she gripped her middle as she was seized with a bout of nausea.

Staggering to a clearing behind the cabin, she was distraught by the absence of a privy. Looking left and right, she surrendered to the heaving that she’d managed to suppress for the past few seconds. Of course, since it had been almost twenty-four hours since she’d eaten, the episode didn’t last long. Minnie stayed at her side with her hand placed on Cordelia’s back for support.

Come, Minnie said, leading Cordelia to the thick sagebrush twenty yards away where they could relieve themselves in relative privacy—first one and then the other so that one could serve as a look-out for the other.

That settled, the next thing in Cordelia’s mind was finding something to eat.

What do we have in the basket? she asked. Anything that’s still good?

We have little bread but, Miz Lawson, it hard and not so good, I think. Minnie looked at her apologetically.

Well, surely, they have a place with supplies here at the fort. I have money coming from my parents. Maybe they’ll allow me credit until it arrives. Let’s go find out.

Before they made their way to the quadrangle, they turned to investigate as they heard the quick approach of hoof beats. There, in all his splendor, rode General George Armstrong Custer, his red-blond curls catching the rays of the sun and glinting burnished gold across his shoulders.

As he neared their hut, he touched his gloved hand to the brim of his hat.

Good day, ladies, he shouted cheerfully.

Good day, George, Cordelia replied, shielding her eyes from the