Edge of the Wilderness

by Stephanie Grace Whitson

  Daniel prayed. For Simon Dane. For Blue Eyes. For himself. For every individual inside the tent. And for Jeb Grant, who had no idea what he was about to be asked to do.

  “You want me to what?” Jeb Grant didn’t shout, but Daniel saw disbelief in his eyes as the little man scratched his scraggly day-old beard and stared up at him. He looked around Daniel and toward his barn where the sorriest group of Indians he had ever seen sat with Big Amos and Robert Lawrence.

  “They are only six,” Daniel coaxed. “Ironheart—the one on the spotted pony—is a leading man. You will like him. All together, they will take up only a tiny corner of your land.” His voice was cool, convincing, as he added, “They can help you with the farm. No one around here will mind if you hire a few old Sioux to do some of your chores.”

  Jeb snorted. “Indians don’t know a thing about farming. They hate it. I heard the braves think it’s worse than death to do that kind of work.”

  Daniel nodded. “But some are changing. Ironheart set the example for his men last year. He works hard.”

  Jeb peered doubtfully at the gray-haired man sitting on the spotted pony. “Don’t seem possible.”

  “We could build them a cabin,” Daniel argued. “A cabin and a tepee. And if they work for you, if they live quietly—and they will—they might be allowed to stay. There is a similar arrangement with a man in Faribault—”

  “I heard about that,” Jeb said quickly. “But them Indians is family to the farmer’s wife. She’s a half-breed. That’s different.” He frowned up ‘at Daniel. “What do you mean if we build them a cabin? Who’s we?”

  “Robert. Big Amos. Me.”

  Jeb laughed. “What do you know about building a cabin?”

  Daniel looked past Jeb. “We built the one you live in.”

  “You what?”

  “We built it. Robert and me.” Daniel lowered his voice and leaned closer. “Before the outbreak this was Robert and Nancy Lawrence’s home.” He nodded up to the ridge where a pile of charred logs was silhouetted against the sky. “That was mine.”

  Jeb inhaled sharply. “I took over your place?”

  Daniel nodded.

  Jeb flushed with embarrassment. “Look here, Two Stars—nobody ever told me—I didn’t mean—”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Daniel interrupted him. He cleared his throat and gestured around him. “This will never belong to us again. We know that. I never would have said anything, except—”

  “Except my knowin’ now might make me feel like I owe you,” Jeb said half angrily.

  “Jeb,” a strident female voice called from the house.

  “Marjorie’s not well,” Jeb said quickly. “I can’t be putting this on her.” He turned to go. Hesitating, he said, “Look, Two Stars, you’re a good man. I know that. Your friends can stay the night. But I can’t—” When Marjorie called Jeb’s name again, Daniel heard fear in her voice. He frowned. Telling himself he shouldn’t, he followed Jeb to the door.

  “I’m here, darlin’,” Jeb said gently. He was leaning over the bed in the corner.

  Daniel couldn’t see anything, but he heard enough to know that Marjorie was expecting a baby and things were not going well. He hurried away from the cabin toward the waiting Indians.

  “We can stay the night,” he said to them. “We’ll use his barn.” He went to Mother Friend. “His wife—” He looked down, embarrassed.

  Mother Friend headed for the cabin. She disappeared inside, only to reappear, waving Daniel toward her. “Get me fresh water.”

  She ordered Jeb to light a lamp and fire up the stove, then turned back to Daniel, motioning toward the well with both hands. “Hurry!”

  If Daniel expected to see Jeb chase the old woman away, he was surprised. Relief spread over the man’s face as he headed for the door to fulfill Mother Friend’s demand for a roaring fire in both the fireplace and the stove.

  As Jeb Grant had feared, his wife, Marjorie, did not give birth to a healthy child. She gave birth to two. And she did not die. Instead, she slept for nearly two days and then woke to sit up in bed and feed her two tiny but remarkably healthy infants who had been taught to nurse on a twisted piece of cloth repeatedly dipped into warm goat’s milk by Mother Friend and another old woman named Standing Tall. Between the two of them, the women kept the twin boys contented and warm until Marjorie was ready to feed them herself.

  Big Amos brought the news down from the house to the Indians who had taken up residence in a box stall at the far end of the barn. Resting his forearms on the top of the stall, he grinned. “It seems Mrs. Grant trusts Mother Friend and Standing Tall more than she trusts her own husband with those babies. Mr. Grant says he hopes you can be convinced to stay.”

  Twenty-one

  Be kindly affectioned one to another with brotherly love; in honour preferring one another.

  —Romans 12:10

  “I told you it was insane to leave the reservation in the middle of winter,” Elliot almost yelled. “This is even more ridiculous.” He grabbed Simon’s bony shoulders. “Look at yourself, man. You’re half dead. You said St. Anthony is two days’ hard ride from Fort Ridgely. We should spend some time here at the fort. You’re in no condition—“

  Simon jerked free of Elliot’s grip. “Don’t tell me what condition I am in,” he said between clenched teeth. “I made it this far and I’m not letting another two or three days’ ride keep me from home.” He leaned over, resting his hands on his knees, waiting to catch his breath. When Elliot moved to help him, he waved him away. After a moment of silence, he said quietly, pleading, “Please, Elliot. I want to get home. To see my children. To see Gen. Try to understand.”

  Leighton knelt down in front of him. “The doctor said you shouldn’t try it. He said you’re on the verge of pneumonia now.”

  “We’ll stick to the trail. It isn’t hard traveling. Not like coming from the reservation across the wild territory. Nothing like it.”

  “You still have to sit on a horse and handle the cold. And what if it snows again?”

  Simon forced a weak smile. “There’s a doctor in St. Peter. If I can’t make it, you can dump me on him.” He coughed again. “But I promise you it won’t come to that.”

  Elliot still argued. “You aren’t God, Simon. Unless you have some secret powers I don’t know about, that’s a promise you may not be able to keep.”

  Simon pushed himself to a standing position. “You’d be surprised what kind of power I can muster when it comes to my children and Gen.” He walked toward the door. “I am going home, Elliot. With or without you.” He leaned against the door weakly. “Come, Elliot. You know you don’t really want to spend the next few weeks wondering what Miss Jane Williams has been up to.”

  “Very amusing, Simon.” Elliot studied his brother-in-law. His cheekbones stood out prominently, casting shadows across his face in the waning light. And yet, deep within the feverish eyes there was determination and a will that would not bend. Elliot almost believed the man could will himself to do the impossible.

  He went to the door. “All right; Simon. We’ll go.” He leaned close. “But I had better not have to explain to your children why I didn’t keep you at Fort Ridgely until you felt better. Why I let you die on the trail.”

  Simon straightened. “You won’t have to do that. I promise.”

  “Promises,” Elliot grunted. He shook his head and grabbed the door latch. “God help you keep your promises, Reverend Dane.” He pulled the door open. “I’ll get some provisions over at the sutler’s. When I come back, I’ll have the horses saddled up.”

  “If we leave right away,” Simon said, nodding, “we can be at St. Peter by nightfall.”

  Elliot nodded and headed out the door. As soon as he was out of earshot, Simon collapsed in a fit of coughing.

  “Yeah. I seen ’em.” The soldier leaned against the guardhouse door and blinked up at Daniel Two Stars. He scratched his dirty blond head. Inspecting his filthy nails, he flipped something into the
air. Swearing against lice, fleas, and a few other choice vermin, he finally said, “One of ’em’s sick. The missionary. They got him over to the hospital. The white-haired one just rode by.” He nodded across the road at the log store. “That’s his horse.”

  After staring toward the fort hospital for a moment, Daniel opted for meeting Ellen Dane’s brother first. He nudged his horse into a trot and headed across the road to the sutler’s store. His hands were trembling as he dismounted and wrapped the reins around the hitching post. He lingered, his hand on the saddle pommel, wondering what to say. His emotions were crazy, alternating between anticipation and fear. Anticipation of knowing. Fear of hearing that Blue Eyes had married him.

  He had been arguing with himself since he left Jeb’s farm before dawn. No one in his right mind would have expected her to grieve for this long. After all, he told himself, she wasn’t riding across the wilderness staring at his picture every night. She was living in that other world—the normal one. In that world, a person would get used to having a house and children. Certainly she wouldn’t want to remember the fear and the awful days they spent running away from the hostiles. She would be glad to forget all that. And gradually, he told himself, she would have forgotten him too.

  Standing before the sutler’s, he ran the entire thing through his mind a few times. When he finally backed away from his horse, he had to grab the porch post to steady himself as he approached the door. Just when he had mustered the courage to go inside, the door was flung open and a tall slim stranger with long snow-white hair nodded politely and shoved past to tie the bundle in his arms to the saddle horn. Behind the stranger came Edward Pope with a second bundle.

  “Hey,” Pope said, nodding. “Didn’t know you were back.” He paused. “You get me some fresh meat, I’ll cook you up a welcome-home pot of stew.” He looked toward the scouts’ camp near the granary, frowning slightly. “Are Robert and Big Amos all right?”

  Daniel nodded. “They stayed up by the old agency for a couple of extra days.” He paused. “We thought we saw signs of a small group headed that way. I’m—” He hesitated again. “I came ahead to tell Captain Willets.” He felt guilty lying to Edward Pope like that. But he couldn’t tell anyone attached to Fort Ridgely about Ironheart and Mother Friend and the others. Not yet.

  The tall stranger had turned around and was looking at him with curiosity. He held out his hand. “Elliot Leighton. You must be one of the famous Dakota scouts. I haven’t had the pleasure—although I’ve heard a lot about your work.”

  Daniel returned the handshake and stood, speechless, not knowing what to say.

  Edward Pope filled the silence, pounding Daniel on the shoulder. “This here’s one of the best scouts in all Indian territory.” He flashed a smile. “I could tell you stories about Two Stars …”

  “Two Stars?” Leighton said. His eyes flashed with surprise. “You aren’t by any chance related to Daniel Two Stars?”

  “Related?” Pope said loudly. He laughed. “He ain’t just related. This is him.”

  Leighton stared in disbelief. “That can’t be. I was told—I mean, we all believed—” Leighton stuttered. “They said you were dead.” While, Daniel tried to steady his own breathing, Leighton sputtered awkwardly, “Everyone said you were dead.”

  “Well, everyone’s wrong,” Pope said. “I followed him and his two friends all over this territory for half of last year. Believe me, Major Leighton, Daniel Two Stars ain’t dead.”

  “Forgive me,” Elliot finally said. He removed his hat and perched it on his saddle horn. Wiping his forehead with a trembling hand, he observed Daniel carefully. So this was the hero Meg regaled so often. The man Aaron said was the bravest man he’d ever known. He didn’t look particularly heroic, with his trail-worn uniform and his unkempt black hair. Searching the weather-beaten face, Leighton thought he looked older than his—how old would he be, Elliot wondered—no more than his early twenties. He looked a decade older, that was certain.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Two Stars,” Elliot said again. “It’s just that I’ve heard so many stories about you—” He stopped abruptly. Putting his hat back on, he turned to Edward Pope. “Would you excuse us, please?”

  Shrugging nonchalantly, Pope headed back inside. He paused at the door. “Don’t forget about supper,” he called back to Daniel. Looking at Leighton he said, “And bring your friend if you want to.”

  Leighton stared at Pope, waiting for the door to close.

  Daniel said quietly, “He’s the best cook in the army. At least that’s what the soldiers say.” He looked up at Leighton with a faint smile. “An invitation to Edward’s mess hall is worth accepting.” He felt calmer now. He didn’t have to face Simon Dane yet.

  He looked up at Elliot and decided there was little resemblance between the tall one-handed man and his sister. He suspected the silver hair and the metal hook were somehow connected. He had seen one of the white women captives’ hair turn white almost overnight during the uprising.

  For something to do, Two Stars unwrapped his horse’s reins. He stood looking down at them and said, “Mother Friend told us you left them to go to the fort. She said Reverend Dane was ill.” At Elliot’s look of surprise, he explained, “There are many scouts’ camps across this territory. Just last fall we took more than a hundred stragglers up to Fort Snelling.”

  “Is that what will happen to Mother Friend?”

  Daniel hesitated, but then something in Leighton’s expression made him trust. He shook his head. “No. Mother Friend and the others will be working on a farm up by the old agency. The white farmer said they are welcome to stay.”

  “How did you convince him to allow it?”

  Daniel shrugged. “It wasn’t too hard.” He looked up at Leighton again. “Since the farm he lives on used to be ours. Since I helped build his house before the uprising. And,” he added with a slight smile, “Mother Friend helped his wife give him twin sons.”

  “I’d say that man owes you a debt.”

  Daniel shrugged again. “He’s a good man.”

  “What about your Captain Willets here? Will he allow it?”

  “I think between the three of us, we will be able to convince him.” Daniel had an idea. “If you would tell him what it is like at Crow Creek, it would help. He is a reasonable man.”

  “I’ve already done that,” Elliot said quickly. “And I’m going to see to it that a lot of other people know about it as well. People who can make a change.”

  As Leighton talked, Daniel thought of Mrs. Dane. It wasn’t pronounced, but something in the controlled intensity in Leighton’s voice reminded him of her. “Your sister was the first white woman I learned not to hate.” He looked off toward the horizon and then back up at Elliot. “The first one who showed me Christ. Instead of preaching Him at me. She saved my life.”

  “Yes,” Elliot said softly. “Meg and Aaron told me the story.” He shook his head. “They also told me what they thought was the story of your death. Meg still cries about it.”

  “Are Meg and Aaron well?” Daniel asked. He suppressed the question about the blonde-haired child, afraid he would learn too much about Gen. And he wasn’t ready. Not yet.

  “They are wonderful,” Elliot said with enthusiasm. “I can’t imagine what they are going to think when they learn I’ve seen you.” He hesitated. “Reverend Dane is over at the hospital. They cleared out a little storeroom for us. He refuses to be considered a patient.” Leighton nodded toward the bundles of supplies hanging off his saddle horn. “We’re supposed to be leaving today.” He gathered up the reins to his horse. “Can you come with me now?”

  Daniel nodded and together the men walked across the road, past the guardhouse and the commissary, beyond the stone barracks, and toward the hospital. With every step, Daniel’s heart beat faster, until, when they stepped up onto the porch that ran the length of the log building, he thought surely Simon Dane could hear the pounding as he approached.

  He could hear Simon before he
saw him—the coughing and wheezing. Frowning, he looked up at Leighton, concern shining in his eyes. Leighton shook his head. “He’s been fighting it for months. Mother Friend helped for a while. Then it came back. But he insists on going home.”

  “Home?” Daniel wanted to know.

  “St. Anthony.”

  As Leighton opened the door, Daniel realized with a jolt that his Blue Eyes might be only two days’ ride away.

  Leighton led Two Stars inside the hospital and toward a small storeroom at the back of the building. “The doctor wanted to keep him isolated from the others. To protect his health.” He tapped on the door with his hook. When Simon didn’t answer, he slowly opened the door. “I’ve someone here to see you, Simon.”

  The man Daniel saw sitting on the floor looked nothing like the Reverend Dane he remembered. He was leaning back against a pillow half asleep, his mouth sagging open, his cheeks sunken. When Elliot stepped into the room Simon started, rubbed his eyes, and pushed himself to a sitting position. “Ready to go?” he said to Elliot and forced himself to stand up, albeit unsteadily.

  With a frown, Leighton grabbed Simon’s arm. “Sit down, Simon. I’ve brought a visitor.”

  Simon blinked a few times and looked stupidly toward where Daniel stood beside the open door. Finally, his eyesight adjusted. His expression changed from intense concentration to utter amazement. And then, behind the amazement, a glimmer of something else, something almost animal in intensity.

  “You?!” Simon gasped. He sat down abruptly. “It can’t be!”

  Daniel knelt before Simon, surprised to feel himself fighting back tears.

  Simon put a trembling hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “They told us you were dead! Your name …” Simon’s voice lowered and he said with wonder, “Your name was in the paper. The list of men hanged. It was right there!” He lifted both hands to cover his mouth and began to cough and sputter. Daniel hurried out to get the doctor while Leighton made Simon lay back on the cot. It was a few moments before Simon could speak again. When Daniel finally went back into the little storeroom-turned-bedroom, Simon lay on his back covered with several blankets, his head once again propped up on a pillow.