“Right. Job lost everything, and he still worshiped God. But he also had plenty of questions about just why God let all that happen. The interesting thing to me is that God said he loved Job, but he didn’t answer Job’s question. God just said, ‘where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth?’ and ‘Why do you contend with Him? For He does not give an accounting of any of His words?’ He reminded Job that if he just gathered his spirit and his breath, all flesh would perish and man would return to dust. Job ended up saying, ‘Behold, I am vile; what shall I answer Thee? I will lay mine hand upon my mouth.’ It seems to me that there’s really only one answer when we ask God why. It’s not easy, but it’s always the same answer: Trust and obey.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s all the answer God gave. There are questions about life that we’ll never have an answer for. But God’s given me the faith to accept that ‘the secret things belong unto the Lord our God.’ ”
Jim poured more coffee. “Can I ask you something?”
LisBeth nodded her head and sipped coffee. Expecting Jim to pursue the topic of religion, she was totally caught off guard when the question came. “Are you going to marry David Braddock?” Jim hurried to explain. “I don’t have any right to ask, I know—I just—well, after what we’ve talked about tonight, I wouldn’t want you to . . .” He started and stopped. several times before finally finishing the question. “It’d be better if you had this thing about God solved before you made any life-changing decisions.”
LisBeth answered him honestly. “I’m not going to marry any man in the near future. I don’t know if I’ll ever marry again. It’s too soon, and I’m too confused about who I am—where I fit into everything, what I want to do with my life. It’s all a muddle. I’ve been just carried along by life since a year ago July. Aunt Augusta whisked me off to the Centennial. Then when we came home I got involved in a lot of church meetings and civic things. Then the Braddocks came to visit and Sarah went home with them. We got caught up in watching the mansion built. Honestly, getting things ready for the mission is the first thing I’ve done that I thought of on my own. And it really brought joy back into my life. Now, I’m trying to sort things out.” LisBeth set down her coffee cup and added, “Besides, I don’t think David Braddock is really interested in me.”
“He’s interested.” Jim said it so abruptly that LisBeth looked up at him in surprise.
“What makes you say that?”
He took a gulp of coffee. “I’ve watched him watching you. He’s interested.”
“That was before.”
“Before what?”
“Before I told him that my father was Lakota Sioux. He didn’t take the news too well.” LisBeth watched Jim carefully. “You don’t look nearly as surprised as David did.”
Jim cleared his throat. “I already knew.”
“And just how would you have known that?”
“Joseph and me are real close, LisBeth. He’s been worried about you. He talks a lot about you.”
LisBeth arched one eyebrow. “And what have you decided I should do?”
Jim looked at her tenderly. “LisBeth, I’ve got no right to tell you what you should do. All I can do is to say that I know God loves you, and I’ll be praying that you find answers for your questions. You can’t go on your mama’s faith anymore. It was real, but it was her faith, and she’s gone on to be with the Lord.”
LisBeth wanted to prolong the conversation, but Jim brought it to an abrupt end by saying, “I’ll keep praying for you. Maybe you’ll find some answers at the mission.” He poured out the remainder of his coffee, pulled his hat down over his eyes, and was asleep in what seemed like seconds. LisBeth sat up for a long while, going over all that had been said in the past few hours. When she finally slept, it was to dream about a Lakota brave riding across the prairie with her locket about his neck.
Chapter 26
There is no man that hath power over the spirit to retain the spirit; neither hath he power in the day of death.
Ecclesiastes 8:8
The fall term at the Santee School had proved to be a challenging one. Students returning from their summer at home filled the residence halls. The field matrons were overwhelmed by the onslaught of work. Charity made out her first chore charts with the help of Rachel Brown, whom she had been assigned to help. She organized and cleaned, mended and cooked. She milked cows and tended bees, taught the girls hymns and studied Dakota. But most of all, Charity loved. From the moment she arrived at the Santee Mission, her heart felt at home.
All my life, she had confided to LisBeth in a letter, I have concentrated on my own wants, my own pleasures. Now I am a slave to the wants and needs of others. It is strangely freeing. I fall into bed each night exhausted, but it is a wonderful feeling to have worn myself out on behalf of these dear girls. At times they frustrate me, but just when I am ready to throw up my hands in despair, one takes my hand and asks for a story or calls my attention to a row of buttons she has managed to sew on straight, and I am encouraged to go on. I know it sounds unbelievable, LisBeth, but I am at home here.
The other matrons have been so helpful. There is one, Rachel Brown, who I am most anxious for you to meet. She has met with some tragedy in her life, but she is so gentle and kind with the girls that I strive to follow her example. We are all hoping that when you come, Rachel will take a much needed break. We are beginning to fear for her health. Her daughter Carrie is a dear child . . . .
Charity’s letters were filled with hope and laughter. They were also filled with the needs that daily pressed on those who staffed the school. Reading the letters, LisBeth had been inclined to be jealous of Charity’s newfound purpose in life. Now, rumbling north from Lincoln to deliver her wagon load of donated clothing, LisBeth reviewed Charity’s letters in her mind, wondering if visiting the school would somehow help her to understand Charity’s peace of mind.
Agnes Bond had also been the recipient of letters. Reading her daughter’s letters, Agnes had snorted impatiently at the girl’s romanticism. Now, rumbling north from Lincoln to deliver the wagon load of donated clothing, Agnes hoped that visiting the school would give her the opportunity to point out its bleakness and convince Charity to return home.
Jim Callaway had received no letters from the Santee Mission. He had been privy to a few of Charity’s letters as they were retold by LisBeth. He heard, too, the longing behind Lisbeth’s admiration to own a similar sense of purpose in life. Now, rumbling north from Lincoln, Jim prayed that LisBeth would find what she so desperately needed. Help her, Lord, to drink from your fountain of living waters. Help her to know your love and the peace that passes all understanding. He didn’t actually put the rest of his prayer into words, but the hope was there nonetheless—the hope that in finding peace of mind and heart, LisBeth would find the ability to love again, and perhaps open her heart to a simple farmer who lived on a small homestead south of Lincoln.
She didn’t want to, but Rachel Brown finally had to admit that she was breaking down. Once energetic and active, she had begun to drag herself out of bed every morning and trudge wearily through each day, falling into an exhausted and fitful sleep. Never feeling rested went from a minor annoyance to a condition that affected every part of her job as a field matron. When Mary Riggs first raised the topic of taking a leave of absence, Rachel rejected the notion. But in the few weeks since Charity Bond had been at the mission, Rachel had become more and more weary, and when Mary asked Charity to raise the subject, Rachel had become more receptive to the idea.
One morning as the two women struggled to take down the laundry that danced on a clothesline, Rachel reached for a sheet, and when it whipped up and out of her reach, she collapsed on the ground panting, “I love my girls, Charity, and I hate the thought of leaving them.”
Charity folded the sheet before settling beside Rachel and taking her hand. “I know you do. Since I came here, I’ve so admired your care and patience with the girls.” Charity
collected her thoughts before adding, “But, Rachel, even the Lord himself took time away to rest and to pray. You’ll do the mission no good at all if you work yourself to death.”
Rachel withdrew her hand from Charity’s and rubbed her crooked jaw, musing thoughtfully. “I’ve never really been as strong since this happened.” Rachel stretched her hand out in front of her and flexed her crooked fingers.
“Here.” Charity stood up and shoved an empty laundry basket toward Rachel. “I’ll take it down, and you sit and fold it. That will be easier.”
Rachel sighed. Then she began talking about the past. “It’s just not in me to give up. It never has been. When I was hurt, they thought I would die for sure. We were hurrying to get to a new agency for Thanksgiving. Mr. Brown was to be an agent up at Yankton Reservation. I refused to leave all my wedding furniture behind . . . and so Mr. Brown managed to load it on. Then the wagon hit a deep rut hidden by the tall grass, and the entire thing tipped—wagon, furniture, and family. We all went tumbling end over end down a steep embankment. Mr. Brown was killed instantly. A few Dakota found Carrie wandering about crying.” Rachel smiled ruefully. “They found me under my beloved wedding furniture. Mother’s big dresser mirror had broken and cut my face—my jaw and hand were crushed. Inside, too, things still feel twisted. They didn’t think I would live. But I did.” There was no bitterness in Rachel’s voice as she talked. She told about her crippling accident matter-of-factly as she folded laundry.
Charity whispered, “Oh, Rachel, I’m so sorry.”
Rachel answered. “It took some time for me to come to terms with it. Almost everything I had valued was taken in that accident—my husband, my possessions, my physical beauty. But I still had Carrie. And God brought me here to the mission. Eventually I learned that I had gained more than I had lost. Here I found a new reason to live. A purpose.”
Rachel sighed and stood up. With great effort, she tried to hoist the filled laundry basket. When she failed, she straightened up slowly and massaged her crooked hand. “I’m afraid, though, that Mary and Reverend Riggs are right. I’ll be of little use if I force myself to stay on. And there’s Carrie to think of. I suppose we will have to go back home for a rest.”
The next day, Charity peeked into the kitchen of the Birds’ Nest and called to Rachel. “Reverend Riggs was pleased you’d finally seen the necessity of a rest. We’ll have to confirm it, of course, but plan on riding with LisBeth back to Lincoln and catching the train from there to St. Louis. It’s all arranged.”
From the table a small voice blurted out. “Oh no, it’s not all arranged!” Carrie had been working on a little doll to be sent as a gift to a missionary child in China. She sat with needle and thread poised midair, listening to Carrie’s announcement. Then she stabbed the doll emphatically and muttered, “It’s not settled, and I won’t go!”
Charity tried to soothe her. “But your Mama needs a rest, Carrie. Just for a little while. You two can go home to St. Louis and see your Grandma and Grandpa for Christmas. Then when the new year comes and your ma is rested, you can come back.” Charity walked to the table and sat by Carrie, adding persuasively, “The girls and I will plan a welcome home party for you!”
Carrie would not be moved. She shook her head from side to side until Rachel added wearily, “I’m afraid we must, Carrie.”
“But Mama,” Carrie protested, “I promised Mr. Soaring Eagle that I would show him all about Christmas.” She looked up at her mother, her blue eyes shining, “He never had Christmas, Mama. If he sees Christmas, then he’ll just have to love Jesus. He doesn’t understand yet. I told him if he’d stay for Christmas, he’d understand.”
“And what did he say to that?”
Carrie answered, “Well, he didn’t exactly say anything. But I could tell he was thinking.” Carrie looked from one face to the other. “I could tell he was thinking. And I got to be here so that when he comes for Christmas, I can explain it to him.”
Charity patted Carrie’s hand and reassured her. “Carrie, if you will go with your mama to St. Louis, I promise that I will make certain that when Mr. Soaring Eagle comes to our celebration, there is someone to explain it to him.”
Carrie considered. Looking into her mother’s weary face, she relented. “But I got to say good-bye to him and explain he should look for Miss Bond at the celebration. I got to make him promise he’ll come.” Her face brightened.
“In spring, when I see him again, he’ll belong to Jesus and we can have a party!”
Not long after Rachel and Carrie became reconciled to being absent from the mission for the winter, John Thundercloud’s congregation once again insisted that their hardworking pastor take a two-week sabbatical.
When John resisted the notion as unnecessary and foolish, James Red Wing insisted. “It’s for your good. And ours. Even the Lord himself took time away. You will come back rested and ready to continue the battle. Go hunting, John.” James paused momentarily and then added what he knew would convince John to go. “Take Soaring Eagle. He’s been restless. His own people would be on their fall buffalo hunt.”
“I haven’t noticed a change in Soaring Eagle.”
“I saw him yesterday,” James answered, “just standing on the hill behind Dakota Home looking west. When Carrie Brown told him some visitors were coming to the mission, he grumbled something about more whites. Carrie was very upset. He talked to her later to say he was sorry.” James concluded, “Hunting now would be very good for you, John. It would also be very good for Soaring Eagle.”
As the two men talked, Soaring Eagle appeared, a different Dakota boy hanging off each arm and two more dragging at his legs. They were all laughing uproariously. The four boys finally won the struggle, dragging Soaring Eagle into the dust where he immediately sprang onto all fours and began charging here and there and spinning in circles. The boys shrieked with joy, shouting and pointing at the charging buffalo.
John looked at James. “So much for the white man’s image of the stoic Indian.”
Just then a bell rang and the melee around Soaring Eagle came to an abrupt halt. Boys ran in all directions, and Soaring Eagle dusted off his leggings and walked toward John and James with a somewhat embarrassed smile on his face.
“Those boys chased Rachel Brown’s cow into her garden. They decided to wrestle with me instead.”
John Thundercloud told him, “My church has said I must go hunting again, Soaring Eagle. Will you come?”
A glow of anticipation flickered in the dark eyes, and Soaring Eagle nodded.
Chapter 27
Where no wood is, there the fire goeth out: so where there is no talebearer, the strife ceaseth.
Proverbs 26:20
Charity Bond had said that she wanted to become a missionary in order to “make a difference.” The day Jim Callaway finally drove the wagon up to the door of Dakota Home, Charity was trying to make a difference in the mission’s fowl population. She had determined to cook an aged rooster for supper. The rooster, however, refused to cooperate. The two children who had been assigned to stalk the hapless creature had called for Charity’s help. As the wagon trundled up, the three humans were in hot pursuit. The rooster darted across the compound and under the icehouse. Charity and her two helpers laughed and shrieked as the bird darted out from under the icehouse and zigzagged its way across the compound and under the church porch.
As Charity and the two hunters crashed in a heap on the front porch of the church, Jim pulled the wagon to a halt and LisBeth jumped down. The rooster charged out from under the porch and was trapped by LisBeth’s petticoats. She bent over to grab the bird.
“This isn’t exactly what I pictured as the life of a missionary,” LisBeth laughed.
Charity retorted, “Oh, I know, LisBeth. We’re all supposed to be prim and proper and extremely serious.” While the bird squawked and flapped, Charity disappeared around the corner of the house calling back, “I’ll be right back to give you a proper greeting.”
Jim h
elped Agnes down from the wagon, and they waited on the porch for only a few moments before Charity reappeared. She had put on a clean apron and was pinning her hair back up as she stepped briskly up onto the porch and said cheerily, “Welcome to the Santee Normal Training School!”
Shaking hands with Jim, she kissed LisBeth on the cheek and then gave Agnes such a sincere hug and kiss, that Agnes, who had decided she would hate the school and be miserable, found herself smiling and holding Charity close while she cried sincerely happy tears.
Charity wrapped Agnes’s arm through her own and pointed. “That’s the Birds’ Nest over there. The little wing to the south is the living quarters. Rachel Brown and I share the apartment. The ladies will be staying with us.” Turning to Jim she added, “Mr. Callaway, if you’ll be so kind as to drive the wagon over there, we’ll get LisBeth and Mother settled. Reverend Riggs and his wife, Mary, have asked to have you stay with them.”
Jim spread a quilt under a small tree and encouraged Agnes to rest while he got her a drink of water from the well. Agnes chattered, “This dear boy has just been so good to me. I don’t know what LisBeth and I would have done—”
Jim interrupted her. “Thank you, Mrs. Bond. We’d better be unloading the wagon now.” At Charity’s direction, Jim hauled the trunks inside. “Mother will be in my room,” Charity explained. “LisBeth, since Mrs. Brown already has her daughter, Carrie, in with her, we hoped you wouldn’t mind sleeping upstairs with some of the girls. The trunks of donated clothing can be hauled up to the church. We’ll have a group of women in tonight to sort things by size. Tomorrow we can hand them out.” Charity was suddenly very serious. “You’ll never know what a help this will be, LisBeth. What the government provides just isn’t enough.”
LisBeth blushed self-consciously. “It’s nothing, Charity. Really. I’m glad to help.”
Agnes offered, “You wouldn’t believe what a tyrant she was, Charity, insisting that each girl have a scarf and hat and mittens. It kept our needles flying!”
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