“Let Me Feel Everything,” Whispered The Apache—The Cowboy Had No Words

…

And the lady with the different colored eyes came and she tried to save us, but they shot at her.

And Mama told me to run and I ran and I ran and I ran.

The words tumbled out in a breathless torrent.

Emma’s knees gave out.

The man caught her before she hit the ground.

Easy, easy.

I got you.

He lifted her carefully like she was made of glass.

Let’s get you to the fire.

Get you warm.

Then you can tell me everything.

He carried her the short distance to his camp.

A small fire crackled between two bed rolls.

A coffee pot sat in the coals.

Two horses were tied to a nearby pine, watching with dark, curious eyes.

The man set Emma down gently on one of the bed rolls and wrapped a wool blanket around her shoulders.

He poured water from a canteen onto a cloth and began cleaning the blood from her face with surprising tenderness.

What’s your name? He asked.

Emma.

Emma what? Emma Brener.

The man froze.

The cloth stopped moving.

His hand began to shake.

Brener? He repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

Emma Brener from Montana.

The girl nodded, confused by the strange look on his face.

The man sat back on his heels, staring at her as if she were a ghost.

That’s not possible.

You’re supposed to be dead.

6 months ago.

The fire.

They said you died in the fire.

Emma shook her head.

I didn’t die.

Mama did, but I didn’t.

Who’s your father, Emma? Jacob Brener.

Do you know him? Do you know where he is? The man’s face had gone pale.

His hands were trembling now.

Emma, baby, look at me.

The girl looked up into those blue eyes.

It’s me, he said, his voice breaking.

I’m your papa.

For a long moment, Emma just stared.

Then recognition crashed over her like a wave.

The eyes.

She knew those eyes.

Even with the beard, even with the gray hair that hadn’t been there before, even with the deep lines around his mouth that spoke of months of suffering, she knew him.

“Papa.

” Jacob Brener pulled his daughter into his arms and held her as if letting go would cause her to vanish.

Emma buried her face in his chest and finally finally allowed herself to cry.

Great heaving sobs that shook her entire body.

Jacob held her through all of it, his own tears falling silently into her hair.

I thought you were dead, he whispered.

They told me you were dead.

Six months, Emma.

Six months.

I thought I’d lost you.

I thought you were dead, too.

She sobbed.

After the fire, I couldn’t find you.

The soldiers took me and they said you were probably dead and I was all alone.

Jacob pulled back just enough to look at his daughter’s face.

Who took you? What soldiers? The bad ones.

The ones who burned our house.

Our house in Montana.

Emma nodded.

Jacob’s jaw clenched.

Tell me everything, baby.

From the beginning.

Emma took a shaky breath and began.

It was nighttime.

Mama was reading to me in bed.

Then we smelled smoke.

Mama went to check and she started screaming.

She grabbed me and we tried to get out, but the fire was everywhere.

The front door, the windows, everything was burning.

Mama pushed me under the bed and told me to stay there.

And she tried to put out the fire, but there was too much smoke.

The child’s voice cracked, but she pushed on.

Then the lady came, the one mama had been hiding in the barn.

The Apache lady with the different eyes, one brown, one blue.

Remember her, Papa? She came to stay with us a few weeks before.

Jacob’s mind raced back.

Yes, he remembered.

Carolyn had insisted on helping a young Apache woman who was running from something.

He’d been against it, worried about the risk, but his wife had that look in her eyes that meant she’d made up her mind.

The woman had stayed in their barn, mostly keeping to herself.

He’d barely spoken to her.

“I remember,” he said.

She came into the house through the back window,” Emma continued.

She grabbed me from under the bed and mama and we tried to get out together, but then there were gunshots and mama fell down and there was blood and the lady grabbed just me and ran.

We made it to the barn, but it was on fire, too.

And then more gunshots and the lady got hit in the shoulder, but she kept running with me.

We ran into the forest and she told me to hide and she would lead the bad men away.

And did she? Yes.

She ran one way and I hid in a hollow log.

I could hear them chasing her.

Lots of gunshots.

Then it got quiet.

I stayed in the log all night.

When morning came, I started walking.

I walked for days, Papa.

I ate berries and drank from streams and hid when I heard horses.

Then tonight, I heard them again, and they were close.

So I ran and ran, and then I found you.

Jacob listened to every word, his expression growing harder with each sentence.

When Emma finished, he stood up and walked to the edge of the firelight, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Papa?” Emma’s voice was small.

“What’s wrong?” Jacob turned back to her.

“Emma, I need to tell you something, and it’s going to be hard to hear.

” The girl pulled the blanket tighter around herself.

6 months ago, Jacob began, “I came home to find our ranch burning.

Your mother was already gone, dead from the smoke.

I searched everywhere for you, but I couldn’t find you.

There was a body in the house, small, burned beyond recognition.

Everyone told me it was you, the sheriff, the neighbors, everyone.

They said you died in the fire, but I didn’t.

No, you didn’t.

And someone knew that.

Someone let me believe you were dead.

Someone buried a body that wasn’t yours and let me grieve a daughter who was still alive.

Understanding dawned in Emma’s eyes.

The soldiers? Yes, the soldiers.

They took you and they lied about it.

Jacob crouched down in front of his daughter again.

Emma, this is important.

The lady who saved you, the Apache woman.

Did she tell you her name? She said her name was Nen.

She said it meant she who walks between.

I asked her between what and she said between the past and the future.

Jacob filed that information away.

Did she say anything else about why she was hiding? About who was after her? Emma thought hard.

She talked to Mama a lot.

I wasn’t supposed to listen, but sometimes I did.

She said her brother wanted her to leave the white people’s land and go back to the reservation, but she didn’t want to.

She said someone important wanted all the Apache gone.

someone with money and power.

Did she say who? No, but Mama was scared.

Papa, she told Nan that things were getting dangerous.

She said people in town were talking about moving all the Indians away far away, and if they didn’t go, the soldiers would make them.

Jacob’s mind was working quickly now, putting pieces together.

6 months ago, right before the fire, there had been talk.

railroad men coming through Montana, surveying land, talk of the government relocating Apache tribes to make room for expansion.

He hadn’t paid much attention at the time.

He’d been focused on his cattle, his family, his small piece of peace after years of war.

But what if the fire hadn’t been an accident? What if it had been deliberate? What if someone had burned his home, killed his wife, and taken his daughter to serve some larger purpose? He walked over to his saddle bags and began digging through them.

Emma watched as he pulled out various items.

A spare shirt, ammunition, a wet stone.

Then something else, a piece of paper, folded and stained.

Jacob unfolded it carefully and held it up to the fire light.

Emma could see it was covered in writing and numbers, but much of it was burned and illeible.

I found this, Jacob said quietly, near our house after the fire.

I didn’t know what it was at the time, just a piece of trash caught in the fence.

But look at what’s still readable.

He read aloud.

Railroad survey complete.

Land acquisition approved.

Fort Verde to Flagstaff corridor.

Eliminate Apache presence by December.

Witness testimony required.

Emma frowned.

What does that mean? It means someone wants the Apache gone and they’re willing to burn homes and kill innocent people to make it happen.

It means the fire that killed your mother wasn’t an accident, baby.

It was murder.

And they took you because they needed something from me.

What could they need from you? Jacob looked at his daughter, his expression grim.

I used to be a soldier, Emma, before you were born.

I fought in the Indian Wars.

I fought against the Apache at a place called Cibbecue Creek.

It was bad.

A lot of people died.

After that, I was done.

I left the army and I swore I’d never pick up a gun against another person again.

But my name still carries weight.

If someone wanted to convince the government that the Apache were dangerous, that they needed to be removed by force, a testimony from me, a decorated veteran would be powerful.

So they took me to make you lie.

Yes.

Or they planned to, but something went wrong.

Maybe you escaped.

Maybe the Apache woman helped you get away.

I don’t know.

But now you’re here and they’re still looking for you.

Jacob knelt down and took both of Emma’s hands in his.

Listen to me very carefully.

We’re not safe here.

Those soldiers who were chasing you, they’ll keep looking.

We need to move.

And we need to move fast.

Where will we go? South to Arizona to Fort Verde.

Emma’s eyes widened.

But that’s where the bad soldiers are.

Yes.

And that’s where the answers are.

That’s where we’ll find out who did this and why.

And that’s where we’ll find the woman who saved your life.

Miss Nalen.

Yes.

She’s the key to all of this.

If she survived, she’ll know who’s behind this.

And if she didn’t survive.

Jacob’s voice hardened.

Then we find who killed her, and we make them answer for everything.

Emma looked at her father with a mixture of fear and determination.

Are we going to fight them, Papa? If we have to.

But first, we’re going to find the truth, and then we’re going to make sure everyone knows it.

Jacob stood and began breaking camp.

Get some rest, baby.

We ride at first light.

But Emma didn’t rest.

She watched her father work in the fire light, moving with the efficiency of a man who’d spent years on the trail.

She thought about mama, about the house burning, about Miss Nan’s face as she’d pushed Emma toward safety, blood streaming from her shoulder.

Papa, she said quietly.

Yes, baby.

The lady, Miss Nan, when she was carrying me away from the fire, she said something.

Jacob paused in his work.

What did she say? Emma’s voice was soft but clear.

She said, “I couldn’t save your mama, but I won’t let them have you.

Your mother was the only white person who ever treated me like I was human.

I owe her this.

” Jacob felt something twist in his chest.

Carolyn.

His Carolyn had shown kindness to a stranger, and it had cost her everything.

But that same kindness had saved their daughter.

Then we owe her,” Jacob said quietly.

“We owe her everything.

And we’re going to find her, Emma.

I promise you that.

” As the fire burned low and the stars wheeled overhead, Jacob Brener made plans.

He thought about the burned document, about railroad surveys and land acquisition.

He thought about Fort Verie and the soldiers who’d chased his daughter through the woods.

He thought about an Apache woman with mismatched eyes who’d risked her life for a child she barely knew.

And he thought about justice, the kind that couldn’t be bought, the kind that couldn’t be buried, the kind that required a man to stand up and fight even when the odds were against him.

Tomorrow they would ride south.

Tomorrow they would begin hunting for the truth.

But tonight, for the first time in six months, Jacob Brener had something he thought he’d lost forever.

He had hope.

The sun rose over the Arizona territory with the color of a fresh bruise, all purple and orange and angry red.

Jacob had been awake for hours, watching the eastern sky lighten, while Emma slept fitfully under the wool blanket.

Every time she whimpered in her sleep, he wanted to reach over and smooth her hair, tell her everything would be all right.

But he couldn’t promise that.

Not yet.

When Emma finally woke, Jacob had coffee boiling and heart attack softening in a pan.

It wasn’t much, but it was food.

The girl sat up slowly, wincing at the stiffness in her muscles.

“How you feeling?” Jacob asked.

“Sore?” “That’ll happen when you run 20 m through a forest.

” He handed her a tin cup of water.

Drink this first, then eat.

Emma obeyed, her eyes watching him over the rim of the cup.

Where are we? About 40 mi north of Fort Verde.

Maybe 2 days hard ride.

Are those men still looking for me? Probably.

But we’re not going to make it easy for them.

Jacob poured coffee into his own cup.

Emma, I need to ask you some more questions about what happened.

I know it’s hard to talk about, but I need every detail you can remember.

” The girl nodded slowly.

“The soldiers who came to the house, did you recognize any of them? Did they say any names?” Emma thought hard, her young face scrunched in concentration.

One of them, the one who seemed to be in charge, the others called him Captain.

“Captain? What?” “I don’t know, but he had a mustache, a big one.

And he wore gloves, nice ones, like mama’s church gloves, but for men.

Jacob filed that detail away.

What did he sound like? Not like you, not rough, smooth, like a preacher, but meaner.

Did he say anything to you directly? Emma’s face darkened.

When they caught me the first time, before Miss Nan helped me escape again, he came to see me.

I was locked in a room at the fort.

He sat down and he smiled at me, but it wasn’t a nice smile.

He said, “Your father is going to help us, little girl.

And if he doesn’t, well, accidents happen, especially to children.

” Jacob’s hands tightened around his coffee cup so hard it nearly cracked.

Did he hurt you? No, he just scared me.

He said I should be a good girl and eat my food and not try to run away because there was nowhere to go.

He said the Apache were savages who would scout me if they found me.

But Miss Nan wasn’t like that.

She was nice.

How long were you at the fort? I don’t know.

Weeks maybe.

It was hard to tell.

They kept me in that room most of the time, but sometimes I could hear things.

People talking outside the door.

What did you hear? Emma closed her eyes trying to remember.

Two men, not soldiers.

They talked different.

fancy.

One of them said something about December.

He said, “We need this wrapped up by December 15th or the whole deal falls apart.

” The other man said, “The girl is insurance.

If Brener won’t cooperate, we threaten her.

If that doesn’t work, we use her as proof that the Apache are kidnapping white children.

Either way, we get what we need.

” Jacob felt sick.

They’d been planning to use his daughter as a pawn in some larger game.

use her testimony or her death, whichever served their purpose better.

Did you hear anything else? Any other names? Any mention of what this deal was about? Railroad.

They said railroad a lot and money.

Lots of money.

One of them laughed and said, ” $500,000 to let a few savages disappear.

Easiest money I’ll ever make.

” Jacob stood up and walked to the edge of the camp, his mind racing.

$500,000.

That was a fortune.

Enough money to buy off half the territory.

Enough money to make murder seem like good business.

He turned back to Emma.

How did you escape, Miss Nan? She came at night.

I don’t know how she got past the guards, but she did.

She was hurt.

Her shoulder was all bandaged up and there was blood.

But she picked the lock on my door and she grabbed my hand and we ran.

We made it to the stables and took two horses and rode into the night.

And then we rode for days.

She knew paths the soldiers didn’t.

She said her people had been hiding in these mountains for hundreds of years.

And she knew every canyon, every water source.

But her wound got worse.

She was getting fever.

Finally, she couldn’t ride anymore.

We stopped in a cave and she told me to keep going.

She said to head north and find you.

She said you’d be coming south looking for answers.

How did she know that? Emma reached into the pocket of her torn night dress and pulled out a small piece of paper folded many times.

She said to give you this.

Jacob took the paper carefully.

It was stained with blood.

He unfolded it and read.

The handwriting was shaky but legible.

Jacob Brener.

If you find this, your daughter is alive and heading north to find you.

I saved her because your wife saved me.

Carolyn Briner was the only white person who ever treated me with dignity.

She taught me to read and write.

She told me that education was the bridge between our peoples.

I owe her a debt I can never repay, but I’ve tried.

The men who killed her are the same men who want my people erased from this land.

Their leader is Captain Owen Drayton of Fort Verie.

He works for a railroad man named Harrison Killian.

They plan to stage an Apache uprising to justify forced removal.

Your daughter is their leverage.

Protect her and if you can find me.

I have proof.

Documents, maps, everything needed to expose them.

I am heading to my brother’s camp in the Mazatzil Mountains.

If I am still alive, I will be there.

If I am dead, the documents are hidden in a cave marked with two white stones at the entrance, 3 mi east of the old mission at San Carlos.

Trust no one in uniform.

They own too many of them.

Nylan Soy.

Jacob read the letter three times.

Then he folded it carefully and put it in his shirt pocket close to his heart.

Papa.

Emma’s voice was small.

Is Miss Nalen going to die? Not if I can help it.

Jacob crouched down in front of his daughter.

Emma, I need you to be very brave.

Braver than you’ve already been.

Can you do that? The girl nodded.

We’re going to find her.

But first, we need to get you somewhere safe.

I’m not leaving you, Emma.

No, Papa.

I’m not.

Mama died.

I thought you died.

I’m not losing anyone else.

I’m staying with you.

Her voice was firm with an edge of steel that reminded Jacob painfully of Caroline.

He looked at his daughter, 7 years old, and she’d already seen more horror than most people experienced in a lifetime.

He wanted to protect her, to hide her away somewhere safe.

But looking into those determined eyes, he realized something.

She was already a survivor.

She’d already proven she could endure, and maybe, just maybe, keeping her close was safer than sending her away.

“All right,” he said finally, “but you follow my orders.

No questions, no arguments.

Understood.

Understood.

Good.

Then let’s move.

We got a long ride ahead.

They broke camp quickly.

Jacob helped Emma onto his horse and climbed up behind her.

As they rode south, he kept scanning the horizon for signs of pursuit.

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