The woman walked over to Elsa as if it were the most natural thing and used two fingers to pinch her nose. Elsa screamed, her face turning crimson. She quit yelling in order to breathe. The woman released Elsa’s nose. Elsa sniffed, her small body shuddering with quiet sobs. Ryker dared to breathe again.
Just when Ryker thought the danger passed, the tall Indian reached over and prodded Elsa’s chest with a pointed finger. The men all seemed fascinated by Elsa’s hair. They touched it, pulled it, and the tall man even put her hair in his mouth to taste it. The fat one poked a finger into Elsa’s eyes. He pulled his finger back, ready to poke again. Elsa saw the finger coming her way and bit down with a definite chomp.
“Aieee!” The man pulled away his hand, to a chorus of jeers and laughter. He shook his sore finger and glared at Elsa. Ryker knew from firsthand experience how painful those sharp little teeth could be.
As the men taunted and teased, the wounded man stalked to the water’s edge and gathered his war club. He brandished it toward Elsa with an angry snarl.
The men turned quiet, and Ryker held his breath. Good Person stepped between Elsa and the warrior and gathered Elsa into her arms. She held the flailing baby under one arm while undoing her baby from his cradleboard with the other. Then she sat beside the stump and calmly settled both babies to her breasts.
The fat man stood holding the club. Ryker thought he might snatch Elsa away from the woman.
Good Person spoke mildly and stroked Elsa’s hair. It was as if she claimed ownership of their baby sister. The man with the shawl barked a command, and the others guffawed. The fat man threw down the war club in disgust. He stalked over to the cooking fire with angry words.
“Elsa always gets her way,” Johnny said in a whisper. “No wonder she’s spoiled.”
“Be quiet,” Ryker hissed.
The fat men pulled a loaf of bread from the sack. He tore the loaf with his teeth and stuffed his mouth, glaring back at Elsa with a snarl.
Artillery interrupted from the direction of the fort. An eagle screamed. Sounds of rifle fire mingled with war whoops. The tall man spoke an order. The fat man dropped the remaining bread. In a moment they had gathered their weapons, climbed into their canoes, and paddled toward the battle. Good Person called out to them as they rounded a bend of Whiskey Creek. One of the men answered back. Soon they were out of sight.
Good Person laid the babies aside and gathered a small square of cloth. She put a pinch of tobacco in the center of the square and twisted it into a pouch, then tied it to a string and draped it over a tree branch with a low murmur.
“What’s she doing?” Johnny said.
“Praying,” Hannibal said in a whisper. “Indians wrap tobacco in cloth for prayers.”
“Where did you come from?” Ryker said. “We thought you went back to the fort.”
Hannibal looked frazzled and sunburned. Wet patches of sweat showed down his back and under his arms. He smelled even worse than yesterday.
“The fort is surrounded by Sioux,” he whispered. “There’s no getting in, no matter what we do.” He wiped his face with the back of his arm. “Do you have anything to eat?”
CHAPTER 33
* * *
Good Person gestured for them to come out.
“Hurry before she comes over here,” Hannibal said. “I’m dead meat if she finds me.”
More gunshots and artillery shells sounded from the fort, as the children crept out of the hideout. Good Person looked anxiously toward the west. Elsa gnawed the crust of bread the fat Indian had dropped on the ground.
Good Person pointed to the chickens, and then to Johnny and Klara. She pantomimed pulling feathers. Klara stood with a blank stare.
“She wants you to pluck the hens,” Sven said. “I’ll help you.” He reached for the birds, but Good Person stopped him. She pointed toward Klara, and then Johnny. She shook her head toward Sven.
“What’s going on?” Sven said.
“She wants Klara and Johnny to do it,” Ryker said.
Good Person thrust a chicken into Klara’s arms and gestured again for Johnny to pluck feathers. Klara stared without moving. The woman poked Klara’s arm and pointed at the bird. Klara nervously dropped the chicken on the ground. Good Person flared in anger.
Johnny started plucking as fast as he could. Feathers fluttered in the air like a small snow storm. The woman grabbed Klara by the arm and roughly pushed her toward the chickens.
“I don’t know how to do it,” Klara said with a helpless look toward Ryker. Good Person pushed Klara to the ground.
“I’ll show you, Klara,” Ryker said. “Don’t make her mad.” He nodded toward the woman and motioned that he would help his sister. Of course, Klara would not know how to pluck a hen. The Landstads needed every hen for eggs. There had been none slaughtered since coming to the frontier. Klara’s hands shook, and her freckles stood out like pebbles on a sandy shore.
Good Person was just plain mean. Ryker hid his anger behind a friendly smile and motioned again that he would help his sister. The woman crimped her mouth and nodded.
Ryker sat beside Klara and showed her how to grasp hold of the feathers. He spoke soothing words, trying to reduce his sister’s fears. He reminded her how angels hid in the clouds and told about seeing Beller in the clouds.
Klara’s hands trembled, but she pulled a hen onto her lap and plucked a feather from the dead bird, wrinkling her nose in disgust.
Both Indian boys came running back into camp, chattering and pointing toward the fort. Good Person shook her head and pursed her lips. She spoke, and her boys took positions on the nearest bends of Whiskey Creek, one upstream and the other downstream.
Good Person turned to Ryker and Sven. She gestured toward the sky and made motions of the moon rising.
“She’s talking about tonight,” Sven said.
The woman pantomimed more canoes coming to the campsite. She made the motion of a setting sun and rising sun. She thought the men would return in the morning. Many men, by the way she opened and closed her hands to show her fingers. She spoke in her language, and Ryker did not know for sure what she was saying.
Good Person pointed to Ryker and Sven, and then to the fort. She pointed to Elsa and Klara and pointed to the tipi. She pointed to Johnny and made a face. She looked questioningly at Ryker.
She repeated the pantomime. It seemed Good Person wanted Ryker and Sven to go to the fort that night and leave the girls with her. Ryker figured she meant to keep Johnny as a slave.
Good Person pointed again to Ryker and Sven and pantomimed guns and scalping.
“She’s saying it isn’t safe for us to be here,” Ryker said slowly. “But she’ll keep the girls with her.”
“I’m not leaving them,” Sven said. “We stay together.”
“She says we must leave,” Ryker said. “Says we’ll be killed if we stay.”
“What about me?” Johnny’s fat lips quivered, and his chin wiggled. Good Woman looked at his tears with what seemed to be disgust. She motioned for him to pluck another bird.
Elsa toddled to the water’s edge, and the woman called to her in her language. Good Person patted Elsa’s hair and said the name several times. Good Person bent down and grasped a cricket with two fingers and said the name. Then she held the cricket toward Elsa and repeated the word.
“She’s renaming her Cricket,” Sven said. “She doesn’t need an Indian name.”
Then Good Person pointed to Klara and said another name. She repeated the new names again, each time pointing at the girls in turn. Good Person reached over and dangled her hand in the river and said the word again, pointing at Klara.
Klara’s lips wobbled, and tears slid down her cheeks. “I don’t want an Indian name. I have a Christian name.”
The woman repeated the Indian names for the girls and then patted her chest and pointed to her tipi and to her sons. The woman chattered in her language. She pointed to Elsa and to her breast. She was saying that Elsa must stay bec
ause of her milk. She pointed to Klara and Elsa. She wanted the girls to be together. She pointed to the girls again and patted her chest. She was promising to care for them.
“They belong to us,” Sven said. He balled his fists and reached for his knife. “She can’t have them.”
“Let’s run away now,” Johnny said. “Grab the canoe, and get out of here while we can.”
Ryker shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “Tonight. We won’t leave you behind. Trust me.” He couldn’t leave the girls behind. Papa had put him in charge. They must all stay together. He must be very cautious. He could not afford to anger the woman.
Then Good Person motioned toward the hideout. She pointed to Sven and Ryker, indicating they should go into the hideout together. Then she made a sleeping motion with her hands next to her cheeks.
“She wants us to nap,” Ryker said.
“Don’t leave us,” Klara said when they walked past her on the way to the hideout. She and Johnny sat in an ocean of feathers. “You can’t leave us behind.”
“She wants slaves to do all the work,” Johnny said. “I have to get away.”
“We won’t leave you,” Ryker said. “Just act agreeable.” Everything in him wanted to fight for his sisters. “Do what she says, just for now.”
Klara’s shoulders drooped, and streams of tears dripped down her cheeks. The woman ignored Klara’s distress. She pointed to the hideout and made again the motions of the sun setting and pointing toward the fort. She pointed to her chest, to Ryker, and then to the fort. She made paddling motions with her arms, then pointed to Ryker and Sven.
A desperate sadness fell upon Ryker. They had come so far together.
Good Person chattered in her language. Ryker stopped her. He pointed to Elsa and said the Sioux word for cricket. Then he pointed to Klara and repeated the name Good Woman had given her. The woman nodded encouragingly. He pointed to the woman with a questioning look. He must at least know her name. If they were to decide to leave the girls with their mother’s friend, he must at least know her real name so he could find them again.
She pointed to herself and said a name. Then she pointed to each of her boys and said their names. Ryker repeated the names. She giggled at his pronunciation. The woman repeated the names.
“Remember,” Ryker said. He made Johnny and Sven repeat the names several times. “We need to know in case we get separated.”
He must trust the Indian woman, the woman who was Mama’s friend, the Indian woman he called Good Person, who for some reason was unkind to Klara and hated Johnny.
Elsa woke and toddled to the edge of the water. Good Person called her name sharply. Then she pulled Elsa to where Klara sat in a mound of feathers. She gave Elsa’s hand to her sister for safekeeping with a brisk nod. She fetched a basket from the tipi and motioned for Klara to gather the scattered feathers into the basket.
“Some things never change,” Klara grumbled. “I get stuck with all the work.”
CHAPTER 34
* * *
The boys crawled into the hideout, careful to avoid the yellow jackets.
“Watch out,” Hannibal whispered, pointing to a hole in the ground near the entrance. “Yellow jackets are meaner than snakes. Especially if their nest is bothered.”
“I hate being shut up in the trees this way,” Sven said. “If I make it out of here alive, I’ll stay in prairie country for the rest of my life. I like to see the sky.”
Sven lay on his belly by the peephole where he could see the girls. Ryker crawled next to him. The Indian boys were nowhere to be seen.
“Why do they want the girls?” Sven said.
“Indians adopt babies and children into their tribe,” Hannibal said. “Raise them as their own.” He paused. “Some girls are taken for wives but others as slaves.” He explained that girls, slaves, and women did the work around camp.
“And Johnny?” Sven said. “What will happen to him?”
“He’ll be a slave like in Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” Ryker said. He glanced out the peephole to where Klara and Johnny plucked feathers. “The reason for the war in the South.”
“Treat them bad and work them to death,” Hannibal said with a shake of his head. “The women have it bad, but the slaves have it worse. I’ve heard stories . . .” His wheezy voice drifted off.
“We can’t leave them,” Sven said. “Not the girls, not even Johnny.”
“Maybe it’s better to leave the girls with her,” Hannibal said slowly. “She’ll keep them safe. Isn’t it better for some of us to survive? We need to send help to find your mother.”
“I don’t trust her,” Sven said. “She’ll hand us over to the men in spite of her promises.”
“She would have betrayed us this morning,” Ryker said, “if she were going to do it. Why go to the trouble of taking us to the fort?” Ryker took a breath and tried to focus his mind on what Martin would do in their situation. Everything came into focus as if written on paper. “She owes Mama, and we can trust her.”
“How do you know for sure?” Hannibal said.
“I just know,” Ryker said. “Mama called her a good person.”
Sven urged for immediate escape. “Let’s just walk out of here and climb into the canoe and start paddling. She couldn’t stop us.”
“We have a better chance after dark,” Ryker said. “We can’t paddle up Whiskey Creek to Fort Abercrombie in broad daylight.”
“We’re too many for one canoe,” Hannibal said. “We have to use common sense.”
“We’re all going,” Sven said.
“We three might disguise ourselves as Indians, if we left Johnny and the girls behind,” Hannibal said.
“The soldiers would fire on us if we barged into the fort looking like Indians,” Ryker said.
They suggested wild ideas for escape. Sven said they could swim the Red River and sneak into the fort under cover of darkness.
“Except you and the girls don’t know how to swim,” Ryker reminded him. “It takes a strong swimmer to manage this current.”
The sun turned the hideout into an oven.
“We won’t go to the fort.” Sven paused for a moment. “We’ll head toward Breckinridge. We’ll find help there.”
“I don’t know about that,” Hannibal said. “Heard of a massacre at the Breckinridge Hotel. Might still be overrun with hostiles. We’d be in a worse pickle.” He described a tunnel built at the fort used to fetch water from the river without being seen by Indians. “A canoe under cover of darkness might get us close enough to sneak into the fort through the tunnel.”
Good Person sounded a warning. Ryker looked through the peephole. Two Indian braves walked toward the campfire. They each carried rifles, and fresh scalps dangled from their lances. One brave wore a woman’s apron twisted around his head, and the other had a blue dress wrapped around his shoulders. They narrowed their eyes when they noticed the white children picking hazelnuts, with Elsa playing around their feet. They questioned Good Person, never taking their eyes off of the girls.
“No,” Sven whispered. He reached into his pocket for his knife. “We’ve got to save them.”
“Quiet!” Ryker hissed.
The men walked toward the children, but Good Person stepped in front of them. She spoke firmly, pointing to first Elsa and then Klara. Then she patted her chest. She claimed them as her own.
The man handed the blue dress to the woman, pointing at Klara.
“He wants Klara,” Sven said in a whisper. “Don’t let him, Ryker. You can’t let him take her.”
Good Person shook her head and crossed her arms. They could only trust that she would keep her promise.
The brave yanked the apron from his friend’s head and added it to the dress. Ryker quit breathing. The Indian was raising his bid. The man spoke loudly, almost angrily, shoving the clothing toward the woman and jerking his chin toward Klara. The woman held her ground.
“I’ve got one bullet,” Hannibal whispered. “I might be able to
get one of the men, but not both.”
Good Person shook her head and moved toward the girls. She gathered Elsa into one arm. She yelled at Klara and Johnny and with her free hand shoved them toward the hazelnut bushes. Klara stood as if in a trance. The woman yelled into Klara’s face and shoved her again. Then Good Person picked up a small branch and beat Klara about the head and shoulders, screaming and slapping her. Elsa wailed in terror and reached for her sister.
“What is she doing?” Sven was in tears. “She’s hurting her.”
Klara cowered before the angry woman, as angry as the yellow jackets had been. The men called out with leering expressions on their faces. Ryker watched in horror as they moved toward his sisters. Just when it seemed all was lost and the men would grab them, Good Person picked up Elsa and grabbed Klara’s arm, and dragged them toward the tipi. Johnny gathered hazelnuts as fast as he could, pale with fear.
Good Person shoved Klara into the tipi. She jerked the flap of the tipi, yelling inside as if she were scolding. Then she pushed Elsa in the tipi with her sister and stood in front of the doorway with a defiant look. She faced the men, loudly complaining and motioning toward the tipi.
The men shrugged and pointed at Johnny. They argued with the woman a long while.
“What are they saying?” Sven whispered.
“Quiet,” Ryker said.
Good Person shook her head and crossed her arms. The men pointed again at Johnny and handed the clothing items to the woman. She shook her head. The men added a red bandanna handkerchief to the dress and apron. The woman placed the clothing alongside the tipi and returned to standing guard.
One of the braves yelled at Johnny and motioned him to come to them. Johnny shook his head and kept picking hazelnuts. The man walked over and grabbed Johnny by the arm, dragging him back to his companion. “Please,” Johnny said, pulling away from the Indian. “Please . . .” He was crying now, digging his bare heels into the ground and blubbering, calling out for Ryker and Hannibal to save him.
Escape to Fort Abercrombie Page 17
