Smoke Rising
A western novella written for the readers of WINGS
Dateline: 1863
Location: Colorado Territory, USA
My name, a gift from our neighbors the Ute Indians, is Smoke Rising. It stuck. Most folk just call me by my handle, ‘Smoke’. This is my story. It begins in my thirteenth summer. We were of Scotch-Irish stock, fiercely independent, hardworkin’, and determined to carve out a place for ourselves. There was me, an older brother and sister, twin younger brothers, and Ma and Pa. We set around the table and talked. 'We can't stay here any longer' Pa said. 'They're bringin’ this war down upon our heads, thieven,’ rapin', burnin', and murderin' all along the way. Under the guise of freein' the slaves they commit acts of atrocity against their own. The war was never about slavery. Hell, the North has as many slaveholders as the South. Most of us want nuthin’ to do with slavin', never owned one, never would. As a workin' economic it is a total failure. You can't own a man and then force him to work and think he's gunna pay his way, and then have to bear the cost to feed, clothe, and shelter him and his family.
This war is about states’ rights, our rights as citizens of this country and guaranteed by the constitution. It's about livin’ free and conductin’ ourselves with a good conscious without the meddlesome interference of government. I guess that don't matter no more. Anyway, they intend to reign in the people, strip us of our rights, remove us from our land, and profit from the spoils. Ya’ll know I hate the war. It is such a waste of blood and good men. If we don't leave soon, we will be forced to fight, brother against brother, contrary to our will. What a way to demoralize and humble the South as so many of its sons are slaughtered on the battlefield, some shoeless, under fed, havin' only the barest of necessities, and runnin' screamin' like a bangy with a musket that's not even loaded. There will be so few left of our sons to raise up seed for another generation'.
And so, with a few other like-minded families to help provide protection we left Papa's beloved Tennessee and headed west for free land to be had after making certain improvements on it by five years to receive a deed. This was our opportunity to live free and build a life. The land itself was harsh and unforgivin’, every little bit of progress made with stiff opposition. But it was our land. You can't replace that feelin'. We assuredly were gunna have an unforgettable adventure.
My folks were such good people. Best thing they did for us was to genuinely love each other. And they weren’t shy to show it, either with each other or us kids. Ma was beautiful, loving, a great cook, and a good listener. I adored her. They were God fearin’ and Papa would use the Bible, not as a weapon, but as a set of instructions on how to live and inherit a better life. Pa never corrected us in anger, was fair, firm, and loving. He rarely raised his voice and didn’t object to bein’ biblical. ‘Hell’ he would say, ‘ifin’s it’s good enough for the preacher in the pulpit it’s good enough for me’.
They believed in our educatin’, and when we couldn’t go to school, they would teach us at home. We were encouraged to read, and often at night we were transported to faraway lands, people, and cultures. We could ask questions and the dinner table was always fun and lively. Often Papa would sit with me at night by the stove, sippin’ on some good whiskey after everyone else had gone to bed, and he let me fire away. Those was surely some of the best times of my life. I never felt shy askin’ bout anything, even womanly matters. You would always answer truthfully and the very best you could, sometimes deferin’ to Ma.
‘Always tell the truth’, he said ’but sometimes its wise to just hold yer tongue’. ‘Girl’ he would say ‘you have a wonderful inquirin’ mind, strength of character, tenacity and plain ole grit. You’re not afraid to speak your mind, though sometimes infected with hoof and mouth disease, but your friends know who will stand with em, and not cater to wrong doin’. You are possessed of such a fine spirit, purity, vitality, and strength. Don’t let anyone take that from you. And you are so beautiful. Like the warmth of a spring day after the cold of winter, a refreshin’ rain in the heat of summer, and a glorious sunset after a long hard days’ work. One day, and I fear all too soon, your knight in shinin’ armor is goin’ to ride in here and sweep you off your feet, sum cowboy realizin’ he’s the luckiest feller on the face of the earth. Choose wisely my dear and for all the right reasons. Make sure you love him unconditionally with all your heart and he you’. And then he bowed his head and said, ‘it’s no secret you are one of a kind. I love all my children, I surely do, but you stand above them all. You have no equal and one day you may be required to fulfill an undaunting task. Much is required to whom much is given. I will always believe in you and love you more than words can say’.
We went to church as oft as we could, and I became aware of the boys watchin’ me. I was appropriately thin, not skinny, and fillin’ out in all those womanly places. But I only had eyes for him….Justice Seacrest. He had fought in the war sidin’ with the South and had distinguished himself with bravery and valor risin’ to the rank of captain at a very young age. He was able to return home in one piece, though he had been shot and wounded three times. His sweetheart, Bess, waited faithfully for him and soon after his return they married. He too, like us, saw the West as an opportunity for a different and better life. Saying goodbye to what little family was left they departed Georgia, hoping to put the scars of the war behind them.
They were our nearest neighbors with property adjoining ours, and we so enjoyed their company. We received the joyful news of Bess’s pregnancy and in due time Ma was called on to assist the midwife in the delivery. Sadly, there were complications and our beautiful Bess died givin’ birth to her son. He survived birth but died a few days later. Everyone did everything they could, but it was not enough. This was a time of great sorrow. Justice was inconsolable and retreated into a very dark place of horrors. First the unconscionable brutality of war, and now the loss of the light that illumined his life and made it beautiful, helpin’ him heal. I fretted over him and asked Pa if I could go over for a visit. ‘No child’ he said. ‘Everyone’s got to grieve in their own time and way. When there’s so much hurtin’, it takes a heap of healin’.
Six months passed and one day that handsome man came ridin’ in on his horse. He stood 6’3” weighin’ in I suspect at least at 210, all muscle, broad shouldered, thin at the hips, with deep blue piercin’ eyes and dark hair. A finer specimen of manhood I’ll never see. I went runnin’ up to him and he gave me an impish grin, and me with a full faced unabashed threebynine smile. He took time to talk to me, always did, and always the gentlemen. Everyone was so glad to see him, and Ma insisted he stay for dinner, and much to my delight, he did. Later he and Pa set outside sippin’ when he saw me sneakin’ a peak and invited me to join them sittin’ close to him on the porch swing.
Afterwards when we went to church and him seein’ us walk in, he would catch my eye and pat the pew on the empty space next to him, and with Pa’s ok I would slip in beside him, heart poundin’ so hard I’m sure I made the bench bounce. We even touched when we held the hymnal together. I don’t know how I survived and surely couldn’t tell you what the preacher’s sermonizin’ was about. Afterwards he would greet the good folks and always looked for me. He knew what was goin’ on and took the time to be kind, gently handlin’ my heart.
In the first year of our arrival in the Rockies shelter was our main concern, protection from the fierce storms winter was surely to bring. We fenced in a nice garden spot and together with the victuals we brought with us from Tennessee, and fresh meat that the men would hunt, we would not be starvin’ pilgrims. Pa was able to purchase a small herd of cattle at a good price from an older neighbor who wanted out. His wife of many years had up and died of consumption, and he didn’t have the heart or energy to go on without her by hisself.
It was late summer when the Ute Chief, Black Elk, first came with two of his braves and a young daughter my age named Leotie, that had the meanin’ of ‘one who is like a flower in the prairie’. She was beautiful and able to act as an interpreter having gone to mission school, learning English. We were inseparable. She would ride in on her beautiful Paint and spend time with us always helpful and teachin’ us about livin’ in this wild magnificent country. After a time when Pa thought it was safe, I would return with her, stayin’ for a few days helpin’ and learnin’. There was so much to know about survivin' out here on the cusp as we were fond to say.
In our second year, one day in late October, Chief Black Elk returned with two braves and Leotie. Through her he explained about the trouble they had with some renegade Cheyenne, and how their tribe had been weakened. He was afraid to go out amongst the ‘white eyes’ for fear of reprisal and the loss of anymore braves. He also feared they wouldn’t have enough food for the winter. Pa, who was always respectful and generous, offered two beeves and some sacks of grain to help see them through the winter. Realizin’ Indians wouldn’t receive a gift without givin’ one in return, Pa asked their help in protectin’ our cattle on ‘the back forty’ from scavengers, two and four legged alike. Black Elk smiled and it was agreed. Ma stepped in and invited everyone for dinner. They were surely fond of Ma’s biscuits and gravy washed down with the white man’s coffee and then a good smoke of Carolina tobaccy on the front porch. ‘I think’ Black Elk said, ‘we will be friends, not enemies’. ‘Sometimes bad things happen to good people’ Pa would say. ‘That’s when it’s time to step up and be the good Samaritan that the Bible talks about. Makes no difference, Indian or white’.
A harsh winter set in early in my eighteenth year and one evenin’ there was a knock at the door. Pa grabbed his Greener and told me to go to the back room and hide, givin’ instructions to Ma and the boys. My older sister Kate had married and moved to town and my older brother David had left to experience the world and find hisself, so it was just us. Cautiously Pa approached the door and asked who was there. ‘Got lost in the storm’ the voice said ‘and seen yer light.. Hopin’ you could see fit to let us stay in the barn for the night. It’s freezin’ out here, our animals are sufferin’ and we surely wouldn’t mind a cup of hot coffee if you have any to spare’.
Pa opened the door slowly with his Greener in hand when I heard an explosion of screams and gun fire. Three men forced their way into the house and brutally killed my Ma and Pa and two brothers. They found me hidin’ in the back room shakin’ and quietly sobbin’, utterly petrified. ‘Lookie here’ one of them said ‘fresh meat’ as they threw me on the bed and stripped me of my clothes, ‘and a virgin besides’. The only thing that kept me from being taken that night was because I was on my monthly. They looked with disgust upon my naked body and called me every vulgar and filthy name they could imagine. Then they hit and kicked me and forced me to get up and get them somethin’ to eat. After pilin’ the dead bodies of my family in the corner in a heap they covered them with some blankets, so they didn’t have to look upon them with contempt.
Next mornin’ they took me and after killin’ the Jamison’s, an older couple delightin’ in livin’ in the beauty and serenity of the mountains, they decided to hole up in their cabin. ‘After all’ they said, ‘no one has seen our faces and there ain’t no tracks left in the storm to lead anybody here’. ‘She’ pointing at me ‘is the only one left to tell. And when she’s played out, we’ll put her under a dirt blanket and leave for Montana soon as the weather allows, no one the wiser’.
They were nauseatingly filthy and stank so bad I could barely breathe. On nights when they would take me tyin’ my hands behind me, two held and spread my legs while the other took his turn. I screamed, bit, hit, and resisted with all the strength and resolve I had. Then they would slap, hit, and kick me while they laughed and mocked me until all the fight was gone, then demanded that I get up cook and clean while they got drunk. Afterwards I was locked in my dungeon, a frigid dark room without food and blankets, starvin’ and bitterly cold. ‘Oh God’ I cried out ‘why have you forsaken me, allowin’ this unspeakable evil to be done’? Eventually I ceased to resist. I laid comatose, glassy eyed and sufferin’ more degradation, shame, and humiliation than any body should ever have to bare. When I didn’t respond it made them angrier still. ‘Might as well be trying to poke a corpse’ one of them said. After six weeks I lost all hope. No one was coming for me.
The weather eased up and they were restless, decidin’ to go into the nearest town for supplies, whiskey, and women. ‘We’ll be gone three to four days and when we return the cabin better be warm and the grub hot. Then we’re goin’ to drag your ugly carcass out into the snow and leave you for the wolves. Maybe they’ll find somethin’ good about your rottin’ stinkin’ flesh’. I made my decision. The night after they left, I crept into the barn and laid in a pile of hay. No more tears. The wellspring was broken. I cried out to God with a clinched fist, ‘where are you? You never came to deliver me, never sent an angel to take me away, never offered any comfort. I only feel abandonment and your sore displeasure. Why do you hate me so? And Papa don’t think ill of me. I just wasn’t up to the task’. I laid there uncovered in the freezin’ cold and began to drift off, sweet sleep takin’ me away.
I awoke to a dreamy state, ethereal, emersed in beautiful sweet light. I felt no pain. It was gloriously wonderful. I was greeted by the Saviour who overflowed with pure radiant love. We shared intense intimate communion, and he helped me to understand. Then I made the journey back into my body, back to earth. I didn’t wanna go back. I did not want to leave this resplendent place. But there were things left undone, things I needed to accomplish.
At first, I felt the warmth of a fire, and hands vigorously rubbin’ every part of my body. I was naked and unashamed. I was washed with warm water and cleaned. Then I was dressed in familiar clothing. A cup of warm broth touched my lips and I began to drink. I was slowly comin’ back into this world. As my eyes opened and I began to focus it was your face I saw….my Justice. I offered a weak smile as you spoke eyes brimmin’ with tears, ‘welcome back Smoke Rising. You’ve come back to me like Lazarus risin’ from the dead’. You continued your ministrations and fixed some hardy soup.
Slowly, my wits returnin’ I asked ‘how did you find me’? ‘After several weeks of fierce weather’, you spoke, ‘I was able to make my way over and check on you and your folks. I was stunned to find them piled up in a corner in the house and then went to search for you. You were nowhere to be found, and there were no tracks left after the storm. I gathered up some of your personals and returned home securin’ things with my hired hand and prepared to leave. I knew I could not fail to find you, or I would die tryin’. After several days of searchin’, cold, and exhausted I fell to my knees in the snow imploring God for help. As I turned my gaze upward I looked as the moon broke through the clouds and I saw a shiny reflection, pieces of tin on a roof. There was no smoke or light from the house nearby as I quietly stole into the barn. It was then that I saw you, the full moon beamin’ light through a crack in the wall. I felt for a pulse and found one ever so weak. I covered you with my coat and heaps of straw and after confirmin’ the house was indeed unoccupied, I lit a lantern, built a roarin’ fire, set water on to heat and brought you inside’.
‘I will keep a close watch on you through the night stayin’ right beside you. My horse will whinny if anyone comes’. I slept through most of the night so aware of your presence. In the morning after breakfast and coffee you bundled me up and makin’ me as comfortable as you could we started for home. ‘I’ll be takin’ you to my house first, you said, then I’ll send my helper to get your sis. You should stay with her. I’ve got work to do’. I looked into your eyes and saw the boilin’ rage. Once again you returned to my prison in the woods, but you were not alone. Six of Black Elk’s braves accompanied you. He left word through Leotie that these men who did this would suffer long and agonizin’ deaths. ‘This’ Chief said ‘is for what they did to my daughter Smoke Rising and her family. They were my friends’.
The three men had returned and seein’ no tracks figured I went wanderin’ off in the snow, a snack for the wolves, relieved to be rid of me. You waited until they were good and drunk before you burst in the house, your fury descending, screamin’ ‘You will feel the pain you have afflicted on so many. Your day of judgment has come, and long before we are finished with you, you will curse the day your parents first looked upon you, and said, we have a son’. They began to beg and grovel as the Indians held them and you brought the butt of your rifle down again and again on their hands breakin’ every bone. ‘You should have never touched her’ you hissed. Then after stuffin’ their mouth’s with clothe the Indians held them down and spread their legs while you spoke deliberately almost in a hushed tone…’NEVER AGAIN’! Stradlin’ them and facing their feet, you took a 4’ club fashioned from a hearty oak and swung with both arms, your rage cascadin’, over and over again mutilatin’ their manhood. You stood shakin’ your rage slightly abatin’. You then loaded their sorry whimperin’ asses over their horses and cinched them down as the Indians led them away anxiously awaiting their turn to add to their torment while they begged to die.
Six months’ passed and sittin’ with my sister on her settee I told her I couldn’t stay with her in town any longer. ‘You’ve been so kind to have me live here with you and John’, I said, ‘and ya know I’ll always love you for it. But I can’t even take a walk, go to the merc, sit on the front porch, or attend church without the stares, finger pointin’, hushed conversation, and avoidan’. Heck, ya think I had leprosy or the plague. I can hear the old hens cacklin’, ‘just look at that brazen hussy. Spread her legs all winter for all those men. Comes back and thinks we should just accept her like nuthin’s happened. She’s soiled and used up like a throw away garment. Best thing for her is to just go whorin’ at the Silver Dollar where her kind belongs’. ‘And all the unattached virgins, flauntin’ that fact in front of Justice or any ole tree stump, sayin’ ‘now we can have our way with him’, bettin’ who will bed him down first, married or not, as ‘no respectable man would ever cover Smoke again'. I’m not the guilty party, I’m the victim!, I cried’. ‘I’m so sorry Smoke’, Kate said, ‘people can be so insufferable’.
‘It’s time for me to go home’ I said, ‘I’m ready’. ‘Brother David is there. Came back just like he said he would. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind the company or the help’. ‘Yes, I’m sure that’s true Smoke. John’s gone out when he could, and Justice comes over all the time to help. Are you sure you’re ready Smoke? What did the Doctor say today’? ‘He’s been so kind and gentle with me, and with time, rest, great food, good medicine, and his therapeutics he said I was fit as a fiddle. I’ve finished my regime of pills and ointments for any disease along with the herbs that Leotie prepared for me. He said it was very possible I could have gotten pregnant but the constant beatin’ I took prevented any little one from growin’ in the womb. Whether I can ever bear any children will depend upon time and a man. Only God knows’. That day Sis took me home. Brother and I did a lotta talkin’. ‘Seems’ he said, ‘the pain of livin’ is worse than the fear of dyin’. His guilt for leavin’ home and not bein’ here was eatin’ him up. ‘It’s the reason you’re alive, I told him. Ma and Pa wouldn’t have wanted it no other way’.
I’m goin’ over and see our neighbor’ I declared. ‘Bout time’ brother replied with a smile. As I rode up Justice was outside doin’ some repairs. ‘You are a fine sight to see. What brings you this way?’ he asked with that impish grin. ‘I’ve got somethin’ that needs sayin’ I told him. Putting his tools down he turned and faced me, ‘well, you best say on’. ‘Why don’t you come and see me’? I asked. ‘I have really missed you’. ‘Well, the truth is I thought you might have feelin’s of anger, hatred, and revulsion towards men which I could surely understand and maybe even towards me. I certainly didn’t want to trigger anything like that between us. I just didn’t know if you could ever consider a relationship with a man again’.
I stepped towards him and reached up putting my finger on his lips. ‘Mister, let me tell you somethin’. I am woman. I am whole. I deserve to be loved, cherished, and respected. I will not let anyone take that from me. I have so much love to give. It’s like an artesian spillin’ over and floodin’ my body and soul. I want to know what it’s like to be made love to by a man that I can give myself to utterly and completely without reservation and overflowin’ with passion, and he for me. Justice Seacrest, you are that man. I have always loved you and I will make you a good wife’! Tears started to flow and I was shakin’ so badly I could barely stand.
You stood there quietly with those piercin’ blue eyes intently watching me. ‘Well,’ I spoke, ‘I’ve said what I have to say, so I best be goin’. I turned to leave when you put your hands on my shoulders and turned me back again. ‘Now’, you said, ‘it’s my turn. Smoke Rising the day I rode onto your property after climbin’ out of a hole of despair where grief can surely take you and you ran up to me with that threebynine smile there was an explosion in the cavity that my broken heart used to fill. That’s when I knew that I could love again and that a new heart would be given. When you were taken, I was desperate. I knew that I must find you or die tryin’. I could not bear the loss of the one I loved again. You, my love, have had a trial by fire, the likes of which I have never known. And look at you now, refined, the furnace heated seven times hotter, purified, all the dross coming to the top, and tempered, just like iron and steel. You stand before me virtuous, radiant, and beautiful…you take my breath away’! Then he knelt and lockin’ with my eyes, spoke the sweetest words I have ever wished to hear. ‘It will give me the greatest joy if I could be your husband and you would be my wife. Will you marry me?’
I could barely speak but somehow choked out a ‘yes’. You then drew me close to you in a loving embrace and the wellspring that had gone dry now gushed over. I cried and cried and cried soakin’ your shirt, and you cried too. Finally, gettin’ a little separation you helped dry my face, and bent down and kissed and kissed me. I didn’t know you could tingle from your top to your toes. My whole body vibrated. ‘Well’, you finally said ‘when would you like to do this?’ ‘Yesterday’ was my reply, ‘but, a little time for plannin’ would be good, and I want to be married in the church. I think three weeks will do. And then with a wry smile and slightly turned up nose I added, ‘I want all those old cacklin’ hens and the wanna be laid virgins see how radiantly happy we are, and that you mister wanted me and chose me to be your wife!’
I am old now and you dear husband have preceded me in death. You have never really left me. We were inseparable in life and will be in death. I am surrounded by our four children, twelve grandchildren and counting, and even two great grands. We were given so many wonderful years together and I feel like Mother Mary, blessed above all women. To the three most important men in my life I would say, ‘Heavenly Father, how can we understand your ways? They are past findin’ out. You did send an angel to rescue me and delivered me out of the fiery furnace. You put all my tears in a bottle. Are they not written in thy book? I love you and I will always be eternally grateful. Secondly, Papa. I love you so much. Thank you for always believin’ in me. And Papa, I fulfilled my ‘task’. And finally, my dear Justice. You are a gift from God. My love for you knows no bounds. Soon we will be together again, never to depart. And mister…. I still feel the tingle. I couldn’t fly any higher, you are the wind beneath my wings’.
thankyou for reading Smoke Rising. If it touched a timbral in your heart please let me know. The story was based on events of that time and personal experience
‘They that sow in tears, shall reap in joy’
WINGS