The Hunger for Freedom

Jane found herself under the cover of darkness, her back to a tree, listening to the voices of ragged rebel men telling stories around the warmth of a campfire. Hunger gnawed the pit of her stomach. But she feared revealing herself to the men, more than the hunger. It was a tug of war inside.

Her eyes grew heavy. She caved into the weight of sleep. As her mind slipped away into darkness, a bone rattling cold shook her back to the harshness of the night. She couldn't decide if she should sneak inside the camp when they slept.

As Jane's eyes blinked in and out of consciousness a torch lit the starry sky above her. A man with gnarled hands, bushy eyebrows, and a crooked jaw loomed over her.

Startled but unable to move, Jane looked at him as if he should be a ghost.

As the man leaned into her, he spoke with a cotton mouth and foul breath. "You sure are a sight for sore eyes. I thought you was some swamp thing."

Jane opened her mouth but couldn't conjure any words. He must have been on guard duty tending to the tethered horses.

The lanky soldier waved his torch to get the attention of others in camp. "Cap'un! I got somethin'."

Jane jumped to run. But the old man yanked her arm down enough to jar her shoulder. She was as good as a treed cat.

Shouts from the camp. A couple men grabbed their rifles. One had a lantern, leading the way toward her. The old man waved his torch, while pinching the blood from Jane's arm. "Where'd you come from?"

Jane worked her jaw until the words fell. "I was captured by Indians."

The man craned his neck, as if expecting an arrow to split open his insides. "You got away?"

"They look for me."

The man looked like he wanted no part of an Indian raid or search party. He crouched down beside her, kept his head on a swivel.

The patchy fog played tricks on the eyes. But the other men flanked Jane and the confederate sentry. "What you got, Blake?" Asked one of the bearded men in a gray cap.

Jane's choice was made for her. She knew most confederates that made it west, lived by their own set of rules. She feared them near as much as the tribe.

"This here girl, says she was taken by reds."

"Other side of the mountain." Jane added.

Come now. You got no reason to fear. We ain't savages. We might smell like one, but you don't need fear us," said the young man with a sunken face.

Together they stumbled through the fog. The old man spoke. "Look-he here cap'ain. We got ourselves a white girl."

Jane could see the captain in his button up coat, resting against his saddle where they brought her to him. His eyes were a sapphire blue in the light of the fire.

Captain waved his hand. "Set up a perimeter. Watch the horses." He stood with a stiff determination. "Ma'am. What is your given name?" His English was good. She could tell he was an educated officer.

"I'm Jane. Jane McCord. I...I was taken by band of Arapahoe and Cheyenne."

"You think they are tracking you? Close?"

"I don't know, sir. I crawled into a dead tree. I covered my tracks. I think they are on the other side of the river."

There was anger in his eyes. The old man who had Jane and another gawked at her. "Bring this fire down to the coals. And take your eyes off this woman!"

They kicked dirt on the fire. By the time the old man let go of her arm it burned from his vice grip. But she shook the blood back into it. Then she rubbed her arm.

"I'm Captain Roberts. We headed west when our land was burned like brimstone because of Sheridan. Most of us lost family and the land. Near all of us left with the clothes on our backs." He stood up and pulled a blanket from his saddle bag. He stepped around firepit and placed it around her shoulders. "Care for supper?"

The smell of beans and cornbread made her mouth water. Captain took a spoon and scooped the cornbread and beans into a tin plate and handed it to her. "Thanks, sir."

Then she lost all manners. She took the spoon and shoved the beans and then fingered the cornbread into her mouth. She squatted when her legs trembled, and she almost lost her balance by the fire. The hunger and feeding frenzy made her forget about any imminent danger. By the time her belly ached, she was looking around and wondered if she could put her faith in the captain who stroked his fine beard and rested his head against his saddle, feet crossed.

As Jane looked up with cornbread on the corner of her mouth, she noticed he never took his eyes off her. She blinked away, might have blushed too. She knew she must have looked more like a swamp creature than a lady. She could tell he was sizing up his situation. His men took the threat of Indians on the prowl seriously. What she saw of his eyes in the firelight, he was weighing his options.

Jane wiped her mouth. "You reckon I could have a horse, so I can get back to my family in Nebraska?"

He kept a poker face, hard for her to read.

Jane appealed to his humanity or what could be found that was left of his soul. "I've got a boy back home. He needs me. I'm not sure if my husband is alive or dead. Before they took me, I saw him hide in the reeds. I banked on him being smart enough to know he couldn't save me until he fetched help."

The captain folded his hands as if to pray and breathed a sigh. He closed his eyes for a moment and then spoke. "I had a family once. Yanks burned the house down. My wife and son, they hid in the basement crawl space. They couldn't get out. By the time I got to em', there was nothing left but charred remains. I buried them together, unable to pry them apart. Once you lose everything you cared about in life, it gives you a whole new perspective. I'm guessing you're almost there."

Jane didn't know what to say. She could see he'd been to hell and back a few times, enough to smell like brimstone. "Sorry for your loss, sir."

"I can tell you been through the fire that tries our sanity and sainthood. For now, you're safe with me. Stay here by the fire, sleep. And by sunrise we will lead you down the mountain. We are not savages. We are men without a home, but not without a heart."

"Thank you for your generosity. I reckon I look like someone who crawled out from the grave."

Captain hadn't said another word. The men would all have a sleepless night. Jane was able to curl into a ball with her blanket like one small speck in the wilderness whose dreams would tell her loved ones she would see them soon. She had no choice but to close her eyes and believe come morning she'd be free of the Indian captors for good.