Sarah took Carrie her supper and settled into the rocker by Carrie’s bed while both girls ate. Abruptly, she said, “You seem to be doing very well with all this, Carrie, but I still won’t leave you alone. Not tonight. You don’t have to say a word to me if you don’t want to. I’ll bring in some needlework and be quiet as a mouse. And if you need to talk, I’m here. I won’t presume to tell you that I know exactly how you’re feeling, Carrie. I don’t. But I do understand loss and hurting.”
Augusta checked in before retiring. Sarah brought in her sewing basket and drew out a pile of half-finished quilt blocks. Lighting the gas lamp on Carrie’s small desk, she sat, quietly stitching, while Carrie slept.
As the night wore on, Carrie began to toss and turn. Her dreams became her enemies and she woke, terrified, crying, trembling. Sarah held her gently. “It’s all right, Carrie. It’s all right. You’re a brave girl—we all know it—but even the bravest know fear. Tell me about it, let me help you.”
“I can’t talk about it,” Carrie sobbed. “I can’t. I’m really trying to trust, Sarah. I really am.”
“You are trusting, Carrie. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t shed any tears or be afraid.”
Carrie looked up at Sarah. “Thank you for staying with me. Would you read to me? From that Bible LisBeth sent, just something to fill the silence. Something to keep me thinking the right things.”
“You don’t want to tell me what it is that’s bothering you?”
Carrie was quiet for a while. Sarah took up the Bible and had it open to a favorite passage before Carrie spoke. “People will stare at me.”
“Yes, I expect they will. But don’t they already stare at you, Carrie? You’re a beautiful young woman.”
“It will be different.”
“Yes, it will.”
“It will hurt.”
“I suppose so.”
After a long silence, Carrie asked quietly, “Do you think that a man could—love—” She stopped abruptly. “Never mind.”
“I think,” Sarah answered promptly, “that a man who had the good fortune to be loved by you would be a fool to let anything keep him from you.”
“How has it been for you, Sarah? I mean, is it so terrible being alone?”
“No, it’s not terrible. It’s different. But it’s not terrible. It’s a wonderful thing to assist Dr. Gilbert in a confinement, or to help someone convalesce after a serious illness. Those things bring me great joy. I have learned that there are other things besides marriage that can fulfill a woman.” Sarah insisted, “But you should never assume that this unfortunate incident means that you can never marry. You are going to have a complete recovery and be able to live a very normal life.”
Carrie shook her head slowly. “Yes, I hope so. And I suppose I’ll deal with everything in time. There’s no use dwelling on it. Please, Sarah, just read to me.” Carrie burrowed into her pillows while Sarah began to read softly,
“This I recall to my mind, therefore have I hope. It is of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness. . . . But though he cause grief, yet will he have compassion according to the multitude of his mercies.”
Lamentations 3:21–23, 32
As Sarah read, Carrie’s face relaxed and she fell back to sleep. Sarah continued to read, passage after passage of the Bible, wherever there was an underlined verse or a passage smudged with paint. Long into the night, Sarah read aloud, her soothing voice filling the silence in the room, keeping back the dreams that had haunted Carrie Brown, dreams of rejection, dreams of a life with no husband, no children, dreams of a life lived alone.
Chapter 27
Lord, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days, what it is; that I may know how frail I am. Behold, thou hast made my days as an handbreadth; and mine age is as nothing before thee.
Psalm 39:4–5
The same blizzard that changed Carrie Brown’s life tore into the Cheyenne River valley with screaming winds and so much snow that signs of civilization were almost totally obliterated. Soaring Eagle and David Gray Cloud sat out the blizzard with James and Martha Red Wing in their cabin, grateful for ample firewood and food. When the storm abated, the Sioux living in the village dug paths through the snow from one tent or tepee to another, but from a distance these tunnels were invisible. Only the thin lines of smoke rising from campfires gave any evidence of life.
Two days after the blizzard, Soaring Eagle and David Gray Cloud rode north to the village. They found an enemy that was to take a much worse toll on their potential congregation than any blizzard ever could. Smallpox had come to the village with a newcomer from Fort Randall. When He-Who-Roars first took to his bed, complaining that his bones were on fire, no one worried. He-Who-Roars had always been a complainer. His woman cared for him slavishly. She had begun to feel that her own bones were on fire when she noticed that her husband’s face was covered with red spots. The spots spread and grew, filling with putrid fluid and then scabbing over. He-Who-Roars died, but not before infecting his entire family. The disease spread quickly throughout the village. Those who were not sick began leaving. Family members who were already ill were left behind to fend for themselves.
In the midst of the terror and chaos, James Red Wing rode for a doctor. Soaring Eagle, David Gray Cloud, and Martha Red Wing, who had been vaccinated against smallpox at Santee, did their best to comfort the dying and ensure that they entered the next life as Christians. They set up a clinic of sorts in one of the larger tents that had been abandoned. The sick and dying were carried in, quickly filling the tent. They moaned with pain and cried out for help while Soaring Eagle and David Gray Cloud worked feverishly, trying to save them all, knowing at last that they would save pitifully few.
Days went by and there was no word from James Red Wing. When an ancient woman feebly offered her bag of medicine, Soaring Eagle was thrilled to find that it contained Peshuta natiazilia. “We boil this, David, then bathe the aching limbs in it. I wish we had more. This one, we call poipie, it will help the fever. We make tea from it. I hope the doctor arrives soon. Perhaps he will have something better. Until then, we go back to the old ways.”
But the old ways did little to relieve the suffering caused by a disease the Sioux had never had to battle. With no immunity and no vaccinations, they were easy victims for the smallpox virus. Day after day, more died. Day after day, more left to get away from death. Soaring Eagle and David Gray Cloud worked through initial fatigue into exhaustion, sponging fevered limbs, praying, trying every home remedy Martha could remember.
Walking Thunder followed the two men everywhere, trying to be of some help. “I am not afraid to die,” he explained. “I have met Jesus and He will come for me if it is my time to go. I think I would like to go to heaven. It is very sad for my people now.”
When Soaring Eagle heard the simple speech, he got up from the bedside of his patient and stumbled outside. Half-consciously he crashed through the snow until he had reached the little schoolhouse he had helped build across the trail from the Red Wings’ log cabin. He stumbled inside and lay prostrate on the cold floor, crying out, “God, my God, they are my people and they are dying.” He began to sob. “Help me save them, my God. Can You not see into my heart? It is breaking! Can You not see what is happening here, God? Or do You not care for a few Sioux up here on the Cheyenne River? They are sick, they are halfstarved. How can I tell them You love them when you let them die?”
Soaring Eagle sat up, leaning against the wall of the schoolroom. “Spirit, intercede for me. I have no more words.” He stayed there, seated on the floor for what seemed like hours. He wasn’t sure he had been sleeping, but he was unaware of time passing until he heard horses stomping, bridles rattling, and voices. Looking across the path, he saw that James Red Wing had at last returned, apparently with a doctor, for he was accompanied by a man who led a pack mule well laden with boxes and odd-shaped bundles.
Soaring Eagle trudged across the path and followed James Red Wing inside the cabin. “Ten have died since you left,” he said dully. “There are at least thirty more who suffer.”
One look at Soaring Eagle told James Red Wing that his friend was at the end of his strength. “You have done well, Soaring Eagle. Dr. Harvey and I will ride up to the village. We’ll send David Gray Cloud back as well. You must rest.”
“There are the dead to be cared for.”
“We’ll take care of that, Soaring Eagle. You stay here. Get some sleep.”
Soaring Eagle didn’t argue. As the doctor and James left for the village, Martha bustled about preparing a meal for Soaring Eagle and David Gray Cloud. They ate mechanically and climbed the ladder to the loft. David dropped onto his hay-filled mattress with a groan. Soaring Eagle leaned over to remove his fur-lined moccasins. The next thing he knew he was waking up to the aroma of frying meat and boiling coffee. Beside him David Gray Cloud stretched and grunted, sitting up and asking, “Do you know the time of day?”
When Soaring Eagle shook his head, David called down to Martha. “You both climbed the ladder to the loft yesterday morning. It is the next day and the sun stands overhead,” she answered.
David and Soaring Eagle looked at one another in disbelief. Rising slowly, they made their way down the ladder. It was bitterly cold, but the sun had begun to shine, and in the distance they could see smoke rising from the village.
Soaring Eagle sat down at the table and asked, “What has been done to help the people?”
“The doctor vaccinated everyone who was left. He brought medicines to try to make the rest comfortable.”
Martha set two mugs of coffee down before the men. “Ten more died in the night. Many more have left. The only ones remaining are the sick and dying. In a few more days they will be dead, or ready to follow their families. James has said that we will stay to see that they are cared for. Then he thinks we should go back to Santee until spring. James believes that in the spring, people will begin coming back. This is a good place to camp and to live. When they know the sickness is gone, they will return. We all need rest and time to plan.”
At the prospect of returning to his room at the Red Wings’, Soaring Eagle experienced a sense of relief. “I thought I was about to lose my faith in God,” he said quietly.
“That was exhaustion talking, my friend,” James Red Wing’s voice sounded from the door. “Even Christ withdrew to rest and to spend time alone with His Father. You have had no time for that since coming here. Faith waivers when the body is not refreshed. None of us is invincible, Soaring Eagle. Martha always reminds me that fatigue makes us vulnerable to the roaring lion.” James sat down beside Soaring Eagle and patted him on the shoulder. “God is mindful that we are but dust. He does not wish that we wear ourselves out with overwork. You must remember this.”
Martha Red Wing spoke up. “Or get a wife who will remind you!”
David Gray Cloud and Soaring Eagle smiled at one another sheepishly. Thankfully, Dr. Harvey entered the cabin at that moment. “We’ve done what we could,” he said. “I have to head back south to the fort. I’ll give my report, and the recommendation that a physician be appointed to work here full-time beginning in the spring.”
With a few last suggestions to the four missionaries on how to treat the handful of remaining villagers, the doctor urged his horse into a lope and rode away towards the south.
In the next few days, the Red Wings, David Gray Cloud, and Soaring Eagle completed their first season of work among the Sioux of the Cheyenne River. The village of nearly a hundred had dwindled to nothing. Soaring Eagle and David Gray Cloud wrapped the bodies of the remaining dead and found places for them high in the trees that overlooked the river valley.
“The army would not approve of this,” Gray Cloud observed as he pulled the last body up into the fork of a tree.
“The army would want us to leave the bodies for the wolves, or burn the entire village,” Soaring Eagle muttered. He looked up at David Gray Cloud. “Praise be to God that we don’t work for the army.”
The two worked together in silence. Finally, Soaring Eagle said, “I don’t understand anything that has happened here this winter. I thought we had established a work that would continue. But an unseen enemy came and snatched the souls away. I don’t understand it. I never will.”
“Of them which thou gavest me have I lost none,” Gray Cloud quoted back. “We’ll come back to the Cheyenne River, Soaring Eagle. And when we return, there will be souls just waiting to hear about the Savior. We’ll begin again.”
Soaring Eagle turned to go. “I don’t know if I have the strength to begin again,” he said quietly. “Right now, all I can think about is going back to my little room at Santee.”
As the two walked back towards the Red Wings’ cabin, Soaring Eagle said, “In Boston I hated being surrounded by buildings. Never seeing the sky, the prairie. All I could think of was coming back to what I know. I never thought I would look at this,” he included the vast river valley in one sweeping gesture, “and feel alone. I know these hills, these trees and valleys. I know where it is good to winter, and where it is good to hunt.” He stopped on the trail. “Tell me, David Gray Cloud. Why do I feel as I did in Boston? I have returned to the land of my youth and yet I am not satisfied.”
Coming to the cabin, the two men mounted horses and, along with James and Martha Red Wing, began to make their way along the valley. When the trail widened, David Gray Cloud urged his horse alongside Soaring Eagle. “I know things have not been as you had planned, my friend. We are both disappointed. But the work will continue. What is wrong with us is not the difficulty of the work.” Soaring Eagle frowned and said nothing. David Gray Cloud smiled and continued. “Dr. Riggs has told us both what we need to do. And Martha Red Wing has added her advice. I think we both should admit that we have an absolute and most urgent need for wives.”
Soaring Eagle opened his mouth to answer, but David interrupted him. “You told me you had been thinking about it. Stop thinking so hard, my friend. Do something about it. Or did you think that God would put a woman on the trail with a sign on her forehead ‘For Soaring Eagle’?”
Soaring Eagle grinned reluctantly and shrugged.
They rode along in silence for a while before David Gray Cloud offered, “It shouldn’t be too hard for you, Soaring Eagle. I can name at least three willing candidates at various mission stations between here and Santee in case you need help. And,” Gray Cloud added, half-joking, “when Charity Bond and Carrie Brown were here in the fall, I did notice that Carrie Brown seems to have grown up quite acceptably.”
At Soaring Eagle’s look of surprise, David laughed again, rich, booming laughter that filled the valleys and echoed from the ridges above them. At the sound of David’s laughter, a herd of elk drinking from a river less than a mile away raised their regal heads as one and listened. An eagle soaring overhead peered suspiciously across the canyon. And the missionaries from Santee rode along, tiny dots moving along the edge of a creek while the sun sparkled on the pristine snow.
Chapter 28
Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing, and obtaineth favour of the Lord.
Proverbs 18:22
When the travelers from the Cheyenne River rode into Santee, they dismounted in front of Alfred Riggs’s home and filed wearily inside. Dr. Riggs praised them for their faithful service, and agreed that after a season David Gray Cloud and Soaring Eagle would return, perhaps with more help.
“In the meantime,” Dr. Riggs said, “go home and rest. James and Martha, we will pray for another couple to continue the work you began. Your farm will need your attentions this spring. Jeremiah has said that he would like to visit his sister and meet his nephew. I think that is a fine idea. Would you be willing, if it could be arranged, to speak at one or two churches in Lincoln, Jeremiah?”
Soaring Eagle nodded. “Of course. Do you have nothing for me to do here at Santee?”
“I think,
Jeremiah, that you should take the time to rest and spend time in God’s Word. Everyone needs times of refreshment. I can only imagine the physical exhaustion that you have experienced. You must guard against a similar spiritual exhaustion.”
The missionaries joined Dr. Riggs in prayer and rose to go. As they filed out of his office, David Gray Cloud turned back. “Dr. Riggs, if you have a moment, might I ask you something in private?”
Soaring Eagle and the Red Wings mounted their horses and prepared to ride home. As they filed past the Birds’ Nest, Charity Bond came running out. “Soaring Eagle! I just happened to look out. There’s a letter here from LisBeth. It’s been here for a while. There was no way to get it to you.” Charity reached up and handed it to Soaring Eagle. “I’ve heard from LisBeth since this letter was posted. I want you to know that everything is all right. You may read some things that worry you, but things are on the mend. I won’t say any more.” Charity turned to go and then stopped and said, “I’m glad you’re all back safely. We’ve been praying for you. Please, Martha,” Charity called, “let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you get resettled. There’s a Sewing Society meeting Friday. If you can join us it would be wonderful.”
Martha Red Wing assured Charity of her presence at the meeting and followed James and Soaring Eagle up the trail to the Red Wings’ home. They found that a raccoon had taken up residence in their absence. It took the better part of a day for the three to rediscover the neat cabin that Martha had left a few months before. It was evening before Soaring Eagle lighted the lamp in his own little room and, lying back on his cot, opened LisBeth’s letter.
He had read only a few lines before he sat up abruptly, frowning and grasping the letter tightly, reading and rereading.
We pray that you were safely indoors when the blizzard struck. Please try to write as soon as you can and let us know if you are well. Jim was halfway home from Lincoln when the storm hit, but by tying himself to his team, he made his way home unharmed.
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