Leave or Perish
Story
Linda Weaver Clarke
Frances Davies 1844-1913
As Frances gripped the railing of the porch and looked out toward the
distant mountains, she heard the words ringing in her ears, Please don't go, Frances. Don't leave me. Stay here and everything I own will be yours.
Frances Davies loved her Aunt Susan dearly. But Frances felt an
overwhelming desire to leave her beloved country of Wales and go to America.
She longed to have an adventure and surely there would be plenty in the
Wild West. That was just five years ago, in 1861. So much had happened
since then.
Her skirt began to wave gently in the breeze as she looked over the
expanse of this beautiful valley and remembered how angry her aunt had
been at first. Her grief-stricken words echoed through her memory.
"How can you leave me? You were like my own child. I asked your mother
when you were born to name you after my own daughter who died, and I
vowed right then and there that I would make you my heiress. I sent you
to the finest boarding schools and educated you. You were going to
inherit every thing I owned. And then you join some fool church and say you
are leaving for America. How can you do this to me? Taking a deep
breath, she added more calmly, Your parents can leave without you, but you
stay here with me, Frances."
Frances slid her hand into her pocket and pulled out a picture of Aunt
Susan. Holding it in her hands lovingly, she smiled at the image of her
aunt. She remembered how Aunt Susan would take her up to the attic to
show her the hampers of expensive china and then promised it would all
be hers when she married. She remembered how much Aunt Susan adored and
spoiled her. Then shortly after Frances's decision to leave Wales, Aunt
Susan's anger and broken heart caused her to withdraw all of her
promises. She told Frances she wouldn't inherit a single thing if she left.
But Frances was not easily swayed. She stood firm in her decision and
unyielding. She wanted to see the Wild West more than anything she could
have inherited. No matter how hard Aunt Susan tried, she could not seem
to influence her niece's decision to go to America.
Aunt Susan was furious with Frances's mother, Elizabeth, and laid the
entire blame upon her for taking Frances away. In fact, she tried her
very best to influence her sister to leave Frances in Wales, but it was
to no avail. Elizabeth would not hear of it.
In defense of her mother, Frances told her aunt, "I know you think I'm
still young because I'm only seventeen but I can make up my own mind.
My parents haven't forced me to go with them. I want to go to America. I
feel it deep down inside my heart that it's something I must do."
Aunt Susan raised her voice in anger, "You are so self-willed." Then
she stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her.
As Frances watched her aunt walk across the street, she murmured, You're wrong. I'm not self-willed. I'm just determined.
Frances shook herself back to reality, and stuffed the picture back in
her pocket. How she missed her aunt! They had been so close and she
loved her dearly. The last thing she had wanted to do was to hurt her.
Frances smiled as she remembered how her aunt's heart had softened just
before she left on the ship. On the day she was packing to leave, Aunt
Susan had sent a messenger to her home with a tiny package. Frances was
not sure if Aunt Susan had had too much pride to bring it herself or if
she simply could not handle the thought of her niece leaving and the
possibility of never seeing her again. When Frances opened the small
package, she found a 15-pound note and a short message saying, Just a
little money for the trip.
As she read the note, tears welled up in her eyes and her bottom lip
quivered with emotion. She knew that Aunt Susan had forgiven her for
leaving, even though she did not bring the note in person or even see her
off at the ship. The memory brought instant tears to Frances's eyes and
she quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand.
In making her decision to go to America, she knew that she would miss
the beautiful beaches of her homeland. Frances often passed the time by
collecting shells on the beach near the cliffs of Manobier Castle. She
enjoyed feeling the sand between her toes and the ocean breeze in her
hair. Those were wonderful times and she knew she would keep it in her
memory forever, but now she had a new life.
Frances remembered the excitement that ran through her veins when she
thought about America and now she was here, experiencing what the Wild
West was really like.
Frances was an elegantly beautiful young lady with rich dark brown hair
and brown eyes so dark one could not see the pupils, and the olive tone
of her complexion enhanced her beauty.
Frances awoke from her daydreams and thoughts of her aunt and beloved
Wales. She walked into the house and quietly closed the door behind her
so as not to awaken her two sleeping children. She was happily married
and had two young children, which was an adventure in itself, to say
the least. When she first arrived in the West, almost every single young
man had tried to win the heart of this winsome lass, but her quiet
dignity gave the boys little encouragement.
Frances made it very clear to her suitors that she had no intention of
getting married. But it did not take long for her to change her mind
when she met a rugged, good-looking cavalryman named Bill. It was love at
first sight. He seemed to notice right away that she was a woman with
much courage and he was very impressed.
As she pulled the freshly baked bread out of the oven, Frances realized
that she had never had her adventure. She thought that the Wild West
would be full of it. So far, life had been quite tame. On the other hand,
Bill was a captain in the cavalry and he had an adventure almost every
day, especially since Black Hawk declared war on the settlers.
Bill was in charge of keeping peace between the Indians and the
settlers and was known as a great friend of the Indians, but Black Hawk and
his band of warriors seemed determined to run the settlers out of the
Utah Territory. Bill usually was out on patrol and had many narrow escapes
because of the uneasiness between the people. At least once a week Bill
would come home and tell his family about the exciting day he had.
As she thought about it, she wished she could have at least one
exciting experience that would last a lifetime, something she could tell her
children and grandchildren about. Just one little adventure would do and
then she would be content.
Frances heard the crack of a twig in the distance that interrupted her
thoughts. Was some animal attracted to the scent of the bread she was
baking? she wondered. It would not be the first time. She slowly arose
from her seat and quietly peered out the window. What she saw was not
what she had expected. She thought perhaps it was a raccoon or some other
pesky animal, but it was not. She tried to control the fear that
overwhelmed her. What was she to do?
Her eyes widened with anxiety as she watched six Indian warriors fill
their bags full of grapes. The protest inside her lodged in her throat
and she did not know what to do. She knew if she left them alone, they
would leave quietly. But at the same time, she had babied those grapes
along, watering them and trimming them back. It just was not fair. They
were stripping them bare and she could not do a thing about it.
The heat in her cheeks intensified as the anger rose within her. She
realized that she could not let this happen. It was up to her to do
something, but what? These Indians were thieves or perhaps Black Hawk's
warriors, not the peace loving Indians that she had met in town. If she
screamed, it would not make one bit of difference because they were not
afraid of women. They could do as they pleased because they believed that
women were weak and would not fight back.
The ache in her chest grew until she could scarcely breathe. "What
shall I do?" she muttered to herself.
Bill had gone into the mountains to gather wood early that morning and
it was up to her to defend their home. She ached inside knowing what
she must do. Her courage rose as her eyes quickly searched the kitchen,
trying to come up with some sort of plan.
She noticed her husband's Cavalry uniform draped over a chair. A
brilliant idea came to her mind. Next she searched for a weapon and could
only find a large bowie knife. This was of no use for such a situation as
this. Her eyes continued searching the room. Then she noticed Bill's
sword leaning against the wall in its scabbard.
Thinking quickly, Frances slipped into his uniform. She pulled on his
pants, his jacket and his cap, tucking her hair inside so it would not
show. She grasped his sword from its sheath and then headed for the
door. She swung the door open and strode onto the porch, holding the sword
tightly in her hand.
Brandishing the sword in the air, high above her head in a threatening
manner, she demanded in a loud voice, "Leave or perish!"
As she gestured in a threatening manner, waving the sword wildly in the
air, the warriors froze and did not move a muscle. Terrified by her
unexpected appearance, they immediately dropped the bags filled to the
brim with grapes. Then they quickly mounted their ponies and fled as fast
as they could, all except for one.
The Brave stared at her questioningly for a few moments and then he
climbed upon his pony. He sat erect and magnificent on his horse, and
stared into her dark eyes. As he watched her with interest, the heat in her
cheeks intensified as fear tried to wedge its way to the surface.
She noticed that this young chieftain was tall and sturdy, a strong man
with a firm jaw. His long black hair hung down his back. He only wore
leggings made of buckskin, grayish-yellow in color, and on his feet he
wore moccasins. She also noticed that he wore a choker made of bone-hair
pipe, which resembled long black beads. There was strength, she saw,
not only in his muscled arms and chest, but in his eyes, as well. His
depthless eyes were black, and they seemed to be searching hers as if
curious about what made this person before him so courageous.
Frightened beyond words, she stood her ground, holding her chin in the
air. Did he know that she was a woman? Did he suspect anything at all?
If so, then he would most likely challenge her.
The Brave saw the stubborn look in her eyes and looking down at her
from his pony, he grinned as if amused. The Indians had pride and were
fighting men. Mercy to his enemy would show weakness and fear. The Indian
respected bravery and courage in defending oneself or one's property.
And Frances had shown no fear of her enemy but only bravery, and for
this she was greatly respected by this Indian Brave.
His eyes were intent upon her and they almost seemed to laugh. Then he
pulled on the reins to turn his pony around. With a kick, the pony took
off over the hill and out of sight.
Frances's heart was pounding as it had never done before, but relief
came over her as she watched him ride out of sight. This Brave might have
known she was a woman and he let her be. She breathed a sigh of relief.
Exhausted from the adrenaline that had rushed through her body, she
collapsed in a nearby chair on the porch.
Bill was riding down from the side of a hill when she saw him
approaching. His horse was pulling a load of wood. He was lazily riding along,
as if exhausted from the day's work. He stopped in front of the porch,
slid off his horse, and walked up to Frances with a grin on his face.
"So, Frances, you thought you would try on my uniform eh? How does it
fit?"
All she said to him was, "I'll tell you later when my nerves have
settled down a bit and after you help me gather up a few bags of grapes so I
can make grape jelly."
Bill's eyes widened as he gave his wife a tender kiss. "My, you've been
busy today. I thought you were going to wait until next week when they
were riper."
"So did I." She grinned. "Bill, I had an adventure of a lifetime and I
don't believe I'll ever need another one for the rest of my life. The
memory will last me forever."
Leave or Perish© COPYRIGHT 2006 Linda Weaver Clarke.
Reproduction prohibited without permission from the author.
05/25/06
