Turning around to lean against the tree, Carrie looked up to see a small patch of blue sky peering through the clouds. She settled down on the earth and took off the wet hat, shaking down her hair and leaning her head on her knees and speaking aloud.
“I wish you could talk, tree. You could tell me what it was like. Before. Before we came and messed everything up. Before there was killing and hate.” She let drowsiness overtake her, and her mind wandered, imagining a circle of tepees in the shadow of the great tree. Imagining.
Thunder interrupted her imaginings and she barely had time to stuff her hair into the hat before rain began to fall in torrents. The small speck of blue sky was no longer visible, and a strong wind was carrying great, dark thunderheads across the sky.
Carrie moaned. I should run for it, back to the mission. But the true destination of her wanderings had not yet been reached, and she was determined to go there, whether she received a soaking or not.
I can build a fire and dry out. She struck out through the storm, grateful for the hat brim that made it possible to see, grateful that she didn’t have far to run before the barn and lean-to loomed in sight.
The Red Wings had left a week ago to visit the small group of believers on the Yankton Reservation to the west. Carrie knew they would be gone, and this afforded her the opportunity to be near Soaring Eagle in a new way.
I shouldn’t be doing this, she thought as she opened the door to the Red Wings’ cabin. It was gloomy inside. Carrie shivered and started a small fire in the fireplace. A warm glow flooded the room and she sat down to pull off her boots and jacket. Arranging them by the fire to dry, she turned to face the door to the room she had wanted most to see. James Red Wing and Soaring Eagle had built a room onto their cabin for Soaring Eagle.
Her hands were shaking as Carrie opened the door to the room. It faced south, and a break in the storm provided enough light to view its contents. A low cot along one wall was covered with the yellowed quilt that LisBeth had returned to Soaring Eagle shortly after they had finally met face-to-face. Carrie knew the story of the quilt, and she ran her hand across its surface, trying to imagine the road it had traveled, from Jesse King’s emigrant wagon to an Indian village, and a Lakota woman who would become Jesse’s friend. Then to Jesse’s adopted son, Soaring Eagle, who had given it to his half sister as a peace offering when they finally found each other as adults.
Carrie sat on the cot and looked around the room. Beside the cot was a crude desk fashioned from some crates and a plank. On it were a few books. Carrie read the titles, smiling softly as she pictured Soaring Eagle sitting at the desk, studying. She turned her attention to the framed diplomas that hung above the desk. One declared that Jeremiah Soaring Eagle King had performed all requirements in pursuit of full graduating honors from the Santee Normal Training School, Santee, Nebraska. A similar document marked the conclusion of his education at Beloit College in Wisconsin.
What she had come to find was not in view. Other than the cot and the desk, the room was spartan. Perhaps under the cot? She knelt down beside it and her hands touched the stiff rawhide of an old parfleche at exactly the moment a gruff voice rumbled from the doorway, “Just what do you think you are doing?”
With a start Carrie turned around and looked up stammering guiltily, “I—I—”
“Red Bird?” the voice softened and Carrie recognized him. Sitting on the floor she leaned over and put her hands to her flaming cheeks.
Before she could try to formulate an excuse for her snooping, Soaring Eagle held out his hand to her. “Your things are nearly dry. But you, I see, are not. Come.”
Carrie obediently took his hand and stood up, following him into the cabin’s main room. Sitting on the floor again, she pulled on her stockings and boots. When Soaring Eagle was silent, Carrie stammered, “I, I came to Santee with Jim Callaway for the clothing distribution. Today was supposed to be my day to explore. But the rain—”
Soaring Eagle indicated her costume. “It appears that you have found a way to explore in spite of the rain.”
Carrie looked down at herself and blushed. “I knew I couldn’t drag petticoats and skirts over a wet prairie. I must look ridiculous.” She looked up and smiled triumphantly, “But it worked. I got to do what I wanted.”
Soaring Eagle’s eyes looked toward his room. “I don’t think you got quite everything, Red Bird.” After a momentary pause he looked at Carrie. “I still have her.” He got up and went into his room. Kneeling, he pulled his old parfleche from under his cot. He opened it and drew out something wrapped in skins. Leaving the parfleche on the floor, Soaring Eagle came back into the room, seated himself by the fire and handed the small bundle to Carrie.
“I told you I would keep her until you came back.”
While he talked, Carrie untied the leather strips. Nervously, she unwrapped the little bundle and there, lying in her lap, exactly as she had remembered her, was Ida Mae, the corncob doll.
“It seems so long ago that Mother and I had to leave here.” Carrie touched the little scarf she had tied over the doll’s “head.” “This calico was from a dress Mama made me.” She lowered her voice. “I still have it back in St. Louis.” Carrie cleared her throat and looked up at Soaring Eagle. “I’m sorry I snooped in your things, Soaring Eagle.” Her blue eyes were shining with sincerity.
Suddenly, he laughed aloud. It began deep in his throat as a chuckle, but he couldn’t contain it and it boomed out, filling the cabin and amazing Carrie who had seldom seen him smile, and never heard him laugh.
“I thought you were some good-for-nothing. If you hadn’t been so small, I would have tackled you without asking questions.” At the thought he laughed again, and Carrie joined him, although not quite as heartily.
He stood up. “I’ll make you coffee. You need to dry off. Then you need to go. If you like, we can ride back together. I’ll tell them I rescued you from the storm. I need to talk with Dr. Riggs.” He went outside to fetch water from the well. When he came back in, he hung the pail on a hook and swung it over the fire.
Carrie asked, “I didn’t think you were coming back to Santee this spring. LisBeth said you would be going directly to Beloit as soon as your classes were finished.” Carrie stopped abruptly. “I’m sorry. It’s really none of my business.”
Soaring Eagle moved across the room to a crate where Martha Red Wing kept her supplies. He returned with the two mugs and finished preparing the coffee. He had handed Carrie a steaming mug and settled opposite her before he answered. “I had only one class to finish. It requires a paper. I can do that here.” He took a gulp of coffee and looked down at Carrie as he said, “I needed to come home to Santee. It had been too long since I saw the sky without buildings in the way.” He smiled sadly. “I guess I was homesick.”
“Was it very lonely for you there?”
Soaring Eagle shook his head. “Not so lonely. I stayed with Robert and Nancy Davis. They have two boys. Sterling and Samuel. Wonderful boys.”
“Did you make friends while you were there?”
Soaring Eagle looked into the fire and answered carefully. “I met many people.”
Carrie shook her head. “Meeting lots of people isn’t the same as having friends, is it? I know a lot of people in Lincoln, but I think I have only two real friends there—LisBeth and Everett.”
“Everett?”
“Everett Higgenbottom. You met him in St. Louis.”
Soaring Eagle laughed softly. “So, Everett Higgenbottom has followed my little Red Bird all the way to Nebraska.” He looked at Carrie and nodded. “He is a good friend, Carrie. He cares for you.”
“You didn’t answer me, Soaring Eagle. Did you have friends in Boston?”
“I had, acquaintances. People who were interested in helping the Indians.” He thought for a moment before adding, “And, yes, Red Bird, I had begun to have friends. George Woodward was trying to be my friend. George and his sister, Julia.”
“Children always like you.”
Soaring Eagle laughed again. He set his coffee mug down deliberately and said nothing more. He stood up abruptly, scooting his chair back. “You should be getting back to the school, Red Bird. They will be worried.”
Carrie stood up reluctantly. She pulled her borrowed hat down until it covered her ears. “Thank you for not being angry. I shouldn’t have come here. I know it. But I didn’t think I’d see you again for a while, and well, I just had to know if—”
“I told you I would keep Ida Mae, Red Bird. When I say I will do a thing, I generally do it.” Retrieving the doll from the table, Soaring Eagle wrapped it again and held it out to Carrie.
Carrie shook her head. “No, I want you to keep her.”
Soaring Eagle opened the door for Carrie. “Are you certain you don’t want to ride back?”
“I’m certain. I like walking. The storm’s let up.”
She stepped outside the cabin door, turning back when Soaring Eagle called her name. “Red Bird. No one knows I have come back to Santee. I think perhaps it would be best if you, too, are surprised to see me when I arrive at the mission tomorrow.”
Carrie tilted her head back and peered at him from beneath the brim of the oversized hat. She nodded in agreement. He had nearly closed the door when she called out, “Soaring Eagle, thank you. For not being angry. I think you should have been. I’m glad you weren’t. I really had no right. And, and, is it all right if I still call you Soaring Eagle? Jeremiah King seems so strange, somehow.”
Soaring Eagle leaned against the doorway of the cabin, considering. “Soaring Eagle is my name, Red Bird. I like to hear it.” He stood in the doorway watching until Carrie’s form disappeared over a rise.
The rain continued. The mud grew deeper. As she walked, Carrie’s sodden boots grew heavy. Her clothes were soaked through and she was shivering by the time she sneaked up the stairs to her room.
It had been a wonderful day off. He still has Ida Mae. He kept her all these years. He said I could still call him Soaring Eagle.
Chapter 16
Now set your heart and your soul to seek the Lord your God.
1 Chronicles 22:19
Soaring Eagle paced back and forth in front of Alfred Riggs’s desk, spilling out months of confusion and heartache. “I want to go west, Dr. Riggs. I want to see the open spaces and go hunting and, if God wills, maybe help a few of my people find their way to Him. I’m tired of getting up in front of crowds and being a ‘fine example of my race’ for everyone. I’m tired of starched collars and shoes that pinch. I’m tired of answering questions about scalps for impertinent little boys and running away from fights with their ignorant fathers.”
Dr. Riggs leaned back in his chair and waited for Soaring Eagle to gather his thoughts. Soaring Eagle sat down next to Jim Callaway. He looked up at Dr. Riggs and continued with an almost desperate tone in his voice. “I want to take some other Lakota with me to heaven, Dr. Riggs. I don’t want to make any more speeches. My speeches have not helped one Lakota soul find his way to heaven. Dr. Riggs, I can’t go back to Boston. My people are dying while I sit in hotels drinking tea with white people whose only real interest is to see ‘Jeremiah King, educated Indian.’ ” He looked away, concluding miserably, “I know I’m disappointing you, but I just can’t go back to Boston.”
Alfred Riggs’s eyes shone with compassion. “Jeremiah, you are not disappointing me.” Reaching into his desk, he drew out a letter and handed it to Soaring Eagle. “This is from my brother Thomas. Please, take a moment and read it.”
Christmas, 1883
Reverend Thundercloud and I went to the new Dakota settlement up the Cheyenne River today. We reached an old trader’s cabin in the evening. While we were rejoicing and talking together, there came an invitation to us from the Dakota tents. These Dakota live all together in a village by the river. The country around is hilly like the Missouri country. The water is clear and good. When we arrived, we went to the tent of a man named Reaching-to-the-Clouds. He made a speech. “My friends, we are a people of benevolent hearts. We have left off our roving habits, and we want you to come and give us knowledge. When one comes to us to teach us and stays only one winter and then leaves us, we don’t like that. If a man does that, although he teaches us some good things, we forget them all when he is gone. We want a man to stay with us always. This is a good country to plant in. The soil is good. Last spring we planted, and everything we planted grew well. The white man gave us seed corn, beans, turnip seed. We planted all, and they grew very well. The corn grew taller than a man. My friends, we are very desirous of learning to read. We have heard that people who learn to read are well-off. We would value you very much if you would send someone to teach us to read.”
We are very anxious to have someone come to these people. They are begging for teachers, and surely God would not have us neglect this opportunity to begin a work among a previously unreached people. The trader’s cabin is sufficiently habitable to support two workers as soon as they could be assigned. Let us all pray for someone to hear the call of God to come to the Dakotas on the Cheyenne River.
Soaring Eagle read the letter slowly, taking in each line with a heart that began to pound with excitement. When he had finished the letter, he laid it on Dr. Riggs’s desk with trembling hands, forcing himself to wait for Dr. Riggs to speak.
“It would appear, Jeremiah,” said Dr. Riggs, “that God has answered Thomas’s letter. I believe that your unhappiness in Boston was caused by God, because He is intending to call you away from those tearooms you mentioned to a trader’s cabin on the Cheyenne River. Would you agree with that?”
“I don’t know, Dr. Riggs. I hope that is true.”
“Why do you hesitate?”
Soaring Eagle looked soberly from Jim Callaway to Dr. Riggs and took a deep breath. “You may not think me qualified.” He paused, continuing with difficulty. “In Boston there was, there was a woman named Julia. Julia Woodward.”
Alfred Riggs sucked in air audibly before saying, “Go on.”
Jim Callaway steeled himself for the expected confession.
Soaring Eagle described Julia Woodward in great detail. He related their meeting and their subsequent friendship. Then he went on to tell of his last evening in Boston. He spoke in measured tones, trying his best to give a factual account uncluttered by excuses. He concluded in a miserable tone of voice. “And so I left. I was too weak to stay, Dr. Riggs. Too weak to stay and finish the classes. I was lonely and homesick, but that is no excuse for my behavior. I had to leave Boston to prevent the possibility of—”
“Yes, yes, Jeremiah. I see.” Dr. Riggs interrupted Soaring Eagle with a wave of the hand. Reaching for the Bible that he always kept on the corner of his desk, he turned to 2 Timothy and read, “Flee also youthful lusts: but follow righteousness, faith, charity, peace, with them that call on the Lord out of a pure heart. Jeremiah, it appears to me that you did just what Paul instructed the young pastor Timothy to do. You recognized a dangerous situation and you fled.” Dr. Riggs smiled at his prize pupil. “Jeremiah, I disagree with your evaluation of yourself. You did not fail in Boston. You recognized a temptation, and as far as I can tell, you responded biblically. Certainly you are now seeking to follow righteousness and faith, charity, and peace.”
Dr. Riggs closed the Bible and returned it to the corner of his desk. He drummed the desk thoughtfully with his fingers before continuing. “I recall a moment in my own young life, Jeremiah.” He paused. “Eons ago, of course, I was much younger and foolish. But I actually kissed a woman to whom I was not married.” Dr. Riggs’s eyes sparkled and one corner of his mouth rose in a smile. “I didn’t think it disqualified me from ministry then, nor did the future Mrs. Riggs. On the contrary, it led to our sharing our life’s work. I don’t think one kiss disqualifies you from ministry, Jeremiah.”
Soaring Eagle was quick to respond. “I’m not going to marry Julia Woodward.”
Jim Callaway spoke up for the first time. “How can you be so su
re? Didn’t you say she’s coming with the Committee to visit here at Santee? It sounds like she’s honestly interested in the work here.”
Soaring Eagle shook his head. “When you meet her, you will know. She is not one to take into the west, to a log cabin.” He sighed. “I have been praying that God would give me a wife, Dr. Riggs. And I think that God is calling me to the Cheyenne River. I don’t know any women who would share such a life.”
Alfred Riggs answered, “Then you must pray harder, Jeremiah. Scripture teaches that a prudent wife is from the Lord. The God who calls you to the west is also the God who created man and said it was not good for him to be alone. God can provide you with a wife who will share your burden for bringing your people to Christ.”
As the meeting closed, the three men bowed their heads to pray. Dr. Alfred Riggs thanked God for his work in Soaring Eagle’s life, and asked for guidance, and a wife. Jim Callaway thanked God for his work in Soaring Eagle’s life, and asked for guidance, and a wife. Jeremiah Soaring Eagle King also thanked God and asked for guidance, and a wife, with the emphasis on the latter.
When the children and staff of the Santee Normal Training School filed into the chapel that afternoon for services, Dr. Riggs was already standing behind the pulpit. Soaring Eagle was seated to his right. He watched the schoolchildren file into the chapel and take their usual places, boys on the left, girls on the right. Scripture was read and then hymn singing began. Soaring Eagle joined in as the children’s voices were raised in a song of praise, Jesus waste made—hee waste, Jesus waste, Piwecida ya. As he sang, his eyes gazed across the rows of children to the back of the chapel where Carrie Brown sat, trying her very best not to look at him. The song went on, Miye awektonja nunu waun, Iye tehiya amkita ce, Heca nakaes owakida kta, and finally the cornflower blue eyes glanced his way. When she saw that he was looking at her, Carrie pretended to drop something and ducked down in the pew.
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