“I’ve heard enough,” Erin said. “You two need to get into different rooms before I get my broom and whack you both on the heads. You two will be the death of me yet.” She took a deep breath. “Gary, I need you to go out there and get those horses settled into the stable in town. I don’t have accommodations for animals of that size. Julia, I need you to go up there and help that woman get settled in. I’m going to prepare lunch.”
She cringed. “Why can’t I do the lunch?”
“Because this is my house, and it’d be good for you to get to know her.”
“How is that possible? Does she speak English?”
“Language is not that big of a barrier. Just imagine that you had nowhere to go and came into an unfamiliar place.”
“Really,” Gary agreed, “would it hurt you to think of someone else for a change?”
“I grew up thinking of you all of my life,” Julia retorted, stomping her foot on the floor. “I’ve cooked for you, done your laundry, took care of you when you were sick-”
Suddenly their aunt darted out of the room.
Both of them gasped. That could only mean one thing. Aunt Erin was getting her broom.
“Later, sis,” he said before he ran out of the house.
She ran up the stairs.
***
Woape put on the dress, feeling out of place with it on. It was nothing like the clothes she usually wore. It was another reminder that she was now in a new world. She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at her reflection in the mirror that hung on the wall. She was a mess—one tangled, wet mess. She picked up the brush. Considering the fact that her hair reached her lower back, this was going to be a long and painful process.
The door opened and the second woman in the house slowly entered the room.
Woape stopped brushing her hair, unsure of what to make of the guarded look the woman gave her. She much preferred the older woman, but what choice did she have? She was at the mercy of these people. The woman approached her, and Woape took a step back. She said something, but of course, Woape had no idea what it was. Judging by the woman’s stiff posture, Woape knew the woman wasn’t happy to have her there.
The woman sighed in exasperation before she took the brush from Woape. She then reached out and unbuttoned the top button on Woape’s dress. Out of instinct, Woape slapped her hand away. How dare she!
The woman snapped at her before she slammed the brush on the dresser and yanked open the top drawer. She pulled out some white clothing and held them out to her while she continued talking to her in a frustrated or angry tone. Woape couldn’t tell which emotion the woman was feeling. Perhaps both.
When Woape shook her head, the woman rolled her eyes and lifted the hem of her skirt, showing Woape that she had similar clothing on. That was when Woape realized that the white garments were supposed to go under the dress. She reluctantly took the soft fabric from her and nodded. But if the woman thought Woape was going to undress while she was in the room staring at her, she had another thing coming.
The woman didn’t look convinced that Woape understood her but didn’t make a move to remove Woape’s dress, so Woape didn’t protest when she picked up the brush and started working it through her hair. Even if the woman wasn’t happy with the fact that the white man brought Woape here, Woape was glad she was gentle as she worked the tangles out of her hair.
Woape watched her in the mirror. She wished she could ask the woman if she was married to the white man. Then she could assure her that nothing had happened between them, in case that was what worried her. It was a shame if he was already married. She didn’t know him. Not really. At least not well enough to have certain thoughts about him. And yet...
She returned her gaze to the woman who was almost finished. Woape refused to act on any feelings that were beginning to emerge. She’d snuff them out before they had the ability to take root in her heart. It was a simple matter really. Yes, the man was kind and brave. But he belonged to someone else, and she could honor that. She would honor that. All she needed was a place to stay and food to eat. She’d find a way to prove herself useful to this woman and the older one who lived with the white man. As long as she never had to go back, she’d be fine.
The woman finished and set the brush down. Woape touched her soft hair. The woman had done a good job. She smiled at her to express her thanks. The woman turned aside and opened the door and left the room. She quietly shut the door, leaving Woape alone again. This wasn’t going to be easy. She gulped the lump in her throat, refusing to let the woman’s cold manners affect her.
She’s afraid I came to take her husband from her. It’s not personal. It’s not who I am. When she realizes I’m not a threat to her, she’ll warm up to me. Just give it time.
She quickly undressed so she could put on the white undergarments before she put the dress back on. At least the clothes gave her a sense of warmth in the chilly room. She took a deep breath and walked to the door. Was she supposed to go to them or wait until someone came to get her? Her hand rested on the doorknob and she debated the consequences of either action. Finally, she decided to test her luck and go to them.
Her bare feet fell softly on the wooden steps. She heard two women talking in the kitchen, and as she turned to go there, the front door opened and the white man entered the house.
He took off his hat and looked in her direction. A smile crossed his face as he said something while he motioned at her. His tone told her he was pleased. He stopped rambling and finally touched her cheek and said, “Pretty.”
Something about the word and the way he looked at her when he said it made her face flush with pleasure.
The older woman called out to them, so Woape turned her attention to the two women. Though the older woman seemed relaxed, the younger one frowned at her and crossed her arms. Woape immediately stepped away from the white man, ashamed she’d gotten as close to him as she did.
The older woman waved them forward, and Woape looked at him to see what he’d do. He spoke and pointed to the older woman. It took her a moment to realize he expected her to walk in front of him. She quickly obeyed, inching away from the younger woman who didn’t take her eyes off of her.
Woape hated awkward moments. The only saving grace was the friendly demeanor of the older woman who chatted away as if nothing was wrong, but certainly, the woman knew something wasn’t right, didn’t she? Woape couldn’t be the only one who sensed the tension in the air. She glanced at Gary who rolled his eyes at the younger woman.
Woape wondered what it meant. If she could understand what the older woman told the two, it would probably give her insight into everything. She had to learn their language, and the sooner, the better. She already knew one word. Pretty. Pretty was a good thing, and he was looking at her and touching her face when he said it. Her cheek was still warm from where his fingers had been. She absentmindedly caressed the spot. Pretty. She’d have to remember the word.
The older woman pointed to a chair so Woape sat down. The queasy feeling in her stomach intensified when she realized she’d have to spend the meal eating across from the younger woman. She clasped her trembling hands in her lap and stared at her plate. This was going to be a long meal.
The white man picked up the large bowl and scooped up a generous portion of meat. He handed the bowl to Woape. Her eyes widened in surprise. She took the bowl and did the same thing she’d seen him do, only she chose a smaller portion. She wasn’t that hungry, though she wondered if she should have been considering the meager meals she’d shared with the man over the past few days. Sighing, she passed the bowl to the woman next to her. She missed the peace of being alone with him.
The older woman smiled at her. She returned the smile, and the knots in her stomach loosened. The man said something so she directed her attention to him and realized he had another bowl for her. This one was filled with a white lumpy substance. She sniffed it.
The older woman laughed and the white man told her something. Woape
wondered if they were laughing at her. Maybe she wasn’t acting right. But how was she supposed to act? She wasn’t white like them. Her customs differed from theirs. She sighed. She was a part of their world now. She had a responsibility to fit in.
The older woman’s warm expression settled her nerves. Maybe things were fine. Maybe she had nothing to worry about after all...well, except for the younger woman who didn’t join in the merriment. But Woape didn’t dare glance in her direction.
During the meal, the older woman rambled on and the white man threw in a comment here and there. The younger woman only spoke when asked a question, which wasn’t often. Woape tried to pay attention so she could learn the language, but they spoke much too fast and after awhile, Woape felt as if her head was spinning. Finally, she decided to tune them out.
She thought of what her new life might be like. She scanned the kitchen and glanced at the small room to the side of it. A look over her shoulder showed the room she’d just been in. Few things were familiar to her. She had much to learn. Turning her attention back to her half-eaten plate of food, she finished her meal.
Chapter Four
Woape cried in her sleep that night. She knew she was dreaming, but the memory was lodged in her heart, and even as she drifted between the reality of the present and the world where time had no meaning, she took a surprising comfort in seeing her mother again.
Her mother approached her along the outskirts of their village.
Woape was watching her brother and his friend practicing chunkey while she worked on finishing the dress she’d made out of deerskin.
Her mother placed the bowl of beans in her lap and gave her a curious look.
Woape glanced up from the piece of buffalo hoof that she chose to adorn the bottom of her dress. “What?”
“Are you not working on your wedding dress?”
She shrugged and turned her attention from her mother’s piercing stare. The prairie wind cooled her. She was looking forward to fall. Summer was much too hot unless she spent all day in the lodge. But she didn’t want to spend her time in there when she could enjoy the view of the Missouri River. She couldn’t sit out here in the winter.
“Woape,” her mother said, using a tone that told Woape she should answer her.
“I’ll work on it later,” she finally replied.
Her brother gave a hoot of laughter as his spear landed next to the stone.
“He just may win this year,” Woape commented, hoping her mother would forget the impending marriage.
However, her hope had been in vain, for her mother shook her head. “You are going to be married in one week, and you haven’t made any preparations for it.”
She sighed and finished sewing the piece of hoof into the hem of her dress. She picked up another piece and judged the space she needed so it wasn’t too close or too far apart from the other pieces she’d already put on it. “I’ll prepare for it. I still have a week.”
“Seven days isn’t a long time.”
She looked up at her brother and his friend as they picked up their spears and the stone. “I don’t want to argue again.”
“I don’t want to argue either.”
“Then can we not talk about it?”
Her mother clucked her tongue. “You do not do well to avoid it. This marriage was arranged at your birth. Just how much time do you need to accept it? Besides, how do you know whether or not this marriage will be good or bad? No one knows these things until they go through with it.”
“Maybe I’ll run away.” Woape paused, shocked she’d voiced the reoccurring thought aloud. She’d said it to herself many times, but to say it like that...and to her mother... Her face grew hot as she struggled to finish adorning her dress.
“You are sixteen. It’s time for you to be an adult.” When Woape refused to acknowledge the statement, her mother gently reached out and cupped her chin in her hand. She turned Woape’s head so that Woape had to look at her. “It is not as bad as you fear. He’ll make a good husband.”
Woape didn’t protest. Instead, she nodded and blinked back the tears forming in her eyes. As soon as her mother released her chin, she turned her attention back to the dress.
“All will be well. You’ll see.” Her mother patted her on the hand before she stood up. “Start the dress tonight.”
Across from her, her brother rolled the stone before he and his friend released their spears to see which spear would be the closest to the stone. Her brother won again and cheered. At least someone was having a good day.
Woape glanced out of the corner of her eye and saw her mother’s retreating figure. Then she allowed herself the freedom to cry. The memory ebbed as Woape woke up, still crying. How was she to know that it would be the last time she had a chance to speak with her mother?
She turned her face to the window. It was still night. She closed her eyes and shivered under the soft blanket. The wind howled outside, reminding her of the screams. She rolled over so she didn’t have to see the moon. Why did bad things always happen at night? She wished the white man was beside her. She felt safe with him. Nights were much too long and painful without him nearby.
***
Gary glanced over his shoulder. Sure enough, the Indian woman he’d brought home was still watching him from where she sat on the lawn. Had he not been on the roof digging leaves out of the gutter, she’d probably be sitting close by. He didn’t know why, but she followed him everywhere.
Earlier that morning, his aunt asked him to buy some items from the store, and the Indian woman left the house with him. Then after he returned home to drop off the food and went to check on their horses, she continued to follow him. He made small talk, not because she would understand anything he told her but because he didn’t know what else to do with the awkward silence.
Now he worked his way around the roof and tossed wet leaves onto the ground, making sure he did it away from her. He stood up and made his way to the back of the house. Out of curiosity, he peered around the edge of the roof and—sure enough—she hastened to the backyard. He didn’t understand it. The men weren’t chasing her anymore. Why did she feel the need to keep him in her sight? Shouldn’t she be more comfortable with his aunt? His aunt, after all, was a woman.
As he chucked another pile of leaves out of the gutter, he caught her peering up at him. He was beginning to feel self-conscious. His last boss had watched him at times, but that was to assist in case he needed help. What did she think he was going to do? Fly away? Disappear?
When he woke up that morning and left his room, she was standing outside the door. He wasn’t sure, but he suspected she had slept part of the night outside his bedroom. He suddenly wondered if he should be spooked by this. One more look in her direction assured him that she wasn’t a threat. Well, how could she be? She was the one running from the men. And that brought up another question. Why were they ready to kill her? What happened to her? Did she do something she shouldn’t have done? Did she see something she wasn’t supposed to see?
He finished removing the leaves and studied her. She didn’t strike him as the violent type. He doubted she did something deserving of death. It must have been something she saw...or maybe her tribe had been invaded. He heard that kind of thing happened. He even heard that some Indians scalped their victims. The thought made him shiver. What a way to go. What a way to live. Not everyone who was scalped died.
Deciding he’d let his imagination go far enough, he forced his attention on descending from the roof. Predictably, she was standing at the foot of the ladder when he reached the ground. He turned to her and laughed. “What are you? My shadow?”
She offered him a smile.
He grabbed the ladder to put in the shed. Of course, she followed, just as he expected. Once he placed the ladder in the small building, he turned to leave and almost bumped into her. “You don’t have to come into the shed with me. There’s no back door.”
Her response was to smile again.
She was such a
pretty thing, especially when she smiled. He shook his head and chuckled. “I’m calling you Shadow because if you keep following me all over the place, that is what you’ll be.”
She furrowed her eyebrows.
He pointed to her. “Shadow.”
Tapping her chest, she repeated, “Sa...do.”
“Shadow,” he slowly said, making sure to emphasize the ‘sh’ sound.
“Sadow.”
“Close enough.” He stepped out of the shed and waited for her to join him.
She pointed to him.
Her meaning dawned on him. “Oh. I’m Gary.” He tapped his chest. “Gary.”
“Gary.”
He nodded. “That’s right. Gary.”
“Gary.” Then she pointed to herself. “Sadow.”
Alright. Maybe that wasn’t exactly what he intended. Now she knew his actual name, but he didn’t know hers. He shook his head and pointed to her. “Name?”
She shrugged, looking confused.
He motioned to himself again. “My name is Gary. Gary.” Then he pointed at her.
A light of understanding lit up her eyes. “Woape.”
A smile formed on his lips. “Woape.” He liked it. It seemed to suit her.
“Sadow?” She shook her head.
Great. He knew he confused her. Then an idea came to him. “Woape. My shadow.” He laughed and pointed to his shadow on the ground. “Shadow.” He stepped back and motioned to his shadow. Even as he took another step back, she walked toward him. “See? Shadow.” He pointed from his shadow to her.
She chuckled and nodded. “Woape. Shadow.”
“Right. You follow me all over the place, just like a shadow.”
“If you’re hungry, I got lunch ready,” his aunt called out from the front door.
“We’ll be right there.” He waved Woape forward. “Eat.” He touched his lips and patted his stomach. “Eat. Food.” He knew she would follow him, so he went to the house.
Restoring Hope Page 3
