Their Frontier Family

by Lyn Cote

  “This is how white women do laundry?” Bid’a ban asked curiously.

  “How do Indian women do laundry?” Ophelia asked, sounding interested in spite of herself.

  “We take our clothing to the river and lay it on broad river rock and beat it with a stick.”

  Sunny recalled that she had seen men doing this in a mining camp.

  “Why do you heat the water?” Bid’a ban asked, peering into the simmering pot.

  “I think it gets the dirt out better. We don’t beat it but we do rub places where the dirt is ground in on this.” She lifted the washboard that had been leaning against the cabin.

  Bid’a ban stroked the rough washboard. “I see.” Ophelia glanced over and looked intrigued, too.

  Sunny had become used to doing the laundry. The curiosity of the two other women made her reconsider this weekly chore. “Keeping clean is important. It’s healthier.”

  “Mother always said, ‘Cleanliness is next to godliness,’” Ophelia added piously.

  Bid’a ban stroked the washboard once more with a dubious expression.

  Just then Noah came into the clearing from the creek with Dawn in his arms and Miigwans beside him. “We’re going to take the oxen over to Gordy’s to pull out stumps today.”

  “Noah says I can go with him, Mother,” Miigwans said.

  Bid’a ban sent a look of concern toward Noah.

  Noah gripped the boy’s shoulder. “He’ll be fine, Bid’a ban. I want him to learn how to handle a team.”

  “Please, Mother,” Miigwans begged.

  Bid’a ban nodded. Noah deposited the sleeping Dawn in her hammock inside and then he hitched the oxen and they were off down the track.

  “You have a good man,” Bid’a ban murmured.

  Sunny nodded, touched by Noah’s kindness to the fatherless child. She thought of her idea yesterday, her idea to tell Noah that she loved him. She wasn’t sure she was supposed to—was the man supposed to say such things? What if he said he didn’t feel that way—what then? Would he leave her?

  The sound of a horse coming broke into Sunny’s thoughts. A stranger appeared through the trees, riding slowly up the trail to their house. Strangers were such a rarity, a shot of fear jolted through Sunny. “Ophelia, Bid’a ban—come stand behind me. Now.” Sunny’s voice sharpened. Better safe than sorry.

  The two women looked startled. Ophelia scurried to stand behind Sunny, who positioned herself in front of the doorway. Bid’a ban seemed frozen in place for a moment, then she moved behind Sunny as well, hidden from view.

  “They told me there was an Indian here,” the man said. “Indians aren’t allowed here anymore. The government moved them all away to Nebraska.” The man’s tone was menacing.

  Sunny edged backward, nudging the other two women through the door. Her heart thudded, but this was her fight. She must take charge. She studied the man’s face so she could identify him. He had dirty blond hair that hung around his shoulders. He sported a mustache, flecked with gray, and his eyes were hooded. He’d tied what looked like a woman’s scarf around his neck.

  When the other women had taken shelter in the cabin, she reached inside the door. She drew out the loaded rifle that Noah always left there for protection. “You are on my husband’s property,” Sunny said evenly, quelling her spiking fear. “I think you’d better leave.”

  The man spit sideways. “I lost my family in Minnesota to Indians in ’62.”

  “You had better leave,” Sunny repeated and raised her rifle so it would be easy to take aim and fire. She forced her arms not to show how she shook inside.

  “Can you shoot that, woman?” the man sneered.

  “Yes.” She raised the rifle higher and took aim. Her heart leaped against her breastbone.

  Ophelia squealed and ducked lower behind Sunny.

  The man stared hard at her. “This isn’t over.” He spat again as if in contempt.

  “Come back when my husband is here,” Sunny said, “and it will be over.”

  “Your husband a tough man?” The stranger turned his horse as if the rifle in her hand didn’t bother him.

  “He’s a Union Army veteran and has the scars to prove it,” Sunny said, careful not to let her voice reveal how close to panic she’d come.

  “This isn’t over,” he repeated and then rode away at an insolently slow pace.

  Once he disappeared from sight, Sunny backed inside and shut and barred the door. Then she sank onto the rocking chair, trembling all over.

  Ophelia sat hunched on the bench by the table as white as paper. “You were so brave.”

  Sunny could barely nod; she was still shaking.

  On the floor, Bid’a ban wept silently, leaning against the wall. “I bring trouble on you.”

  “No,” Sunny said. “He’s a man looking for trouble. There are men like him all over.” She’d seen his ilk before. Men who rode into a town, aching for a fistfight or gunfight. “They don’t need a reason. They just want to shed blood.”

  “Do you think he’ll come back?” Ophelia asked.

  “Yes,” Sunny said with certainty. She pressed a hand over her heart as if that could calm it. “But my Noah will settle matters with him.” And she was positive of that. Noah knew how to fight. He’d survived four years of a bloody war. This stranger didn’t know who he’d come up against.

  * * *

  At Gordy’s, Noah had set Miigwans on the neck and shoulders of one of the oxen for his safety. The big creatures were docile but their very size caused them to be a danger to a small child. The men had roped the team to a stump and Noah was encouraging them to wrest the stump from the sandy soil.

  As soon as Gordy and Martin had seen he’d brought the boy, they’d gotten quiet. Yet they had greeted Miigwans politely. For his part, Miigwans had also become silent and watchful. But Noah had decided since Miigwans had no father, it was best for the boy to be with the men and learn men’s work. And Noah thought if these were his friends, they would take the boy in stride—if they were his friends.

  The stump creaked and groaned as the roots fought to stay in the earth. Then came a cracking sound as when ropes in a high wind snapped. With a groan, the stump sprang free. “Ho!” Noah halted the team.

  “Well, that’s one down and a many more to go,” Gordy said wryly.

  “But it has to be done,” Martin commented. “I look forward to the day when we’ll all have our fields cleared.”

  Gordy agreed, releasing the ropes from the stump. “We might have to work logging or something to make ends meet.”

  “I think logging might be a poor choice,” Noah said, his arm tingling with remembered pain. “Old Saul said I could work as a stonemason building hearths for people.”

  “You also know how to make furniture,” Martin said, helping Gordy tie the ropes around the next stump. “You’re a knowing man. I spent a lot of time reading law.”

  “You’re an edjicated man?” Gordy asked.

  Martin nodded, flushing with embarrassment. “Ophelia comes from a prosperous family. Her father is a judge. They didn’t like her marrying me and coming to the frontier. But that’s what her father did when he was young. Went West and established himself.”

  From the corner of his eye Noah suddenly caught the sign of movement. He stilled. The likelihood of any wild animal attacking in daylight was scant. He focused and realized it was a dog, crawling on its belly toward them.

  “A dog,” Miigwans piped up.

  The animal crooned pitifully and halted. It had long brown ears, a sleek head of the same brown and a white and speckled body. It looked starved.

  “Everyone be quiet. Here, boy,” Noah called and held out his hand. “It’s okay. We like dogs.”

  The animal very plainly looked at him, assessing, and then it crawled
forward. The clearing had gone absolutely quiet except for the dog’s whining and the huffing of the winded oxen. A flash of memory carried Noah back to a battlefield after the cannon had fallen silent—wounded men crawling and begging for help. He stopped his mind there, shaken.

  The dog stopped a few feet from Noah, who then knelt on one knee. “Come here, boy.” He patted his leg and offered a hand, keeping the past at bay.

  The dog crawled slowly, slowly toward the men, still whining piteously, till it reached Noah. It put one paw on Noah’s knee. The bloody paw had something embedded in it.

  “What happened, boy? Did you run into a porcupine?”

  “Be careful, Noah,” Gordy cautioned. “He doesn’t know you.”

  “But he is asking for my help.” Noah petted the dog’s head warily and spoke soothing words to him. When the dog relaxed, Noah drew out his knife. “I’m going to get that out of you now.”

  With the dog watching his every move, Noah stripped from the quill the barbs that had prevented the dog from working the quill out himself. Then Noah pulled out his handkerchief and grasped the end. “This is going to hurt, boy,” he said to the dog.

  Gordy took a sharp breath.

  The dog stared into Noah’s eyes and Noah read the trust and appeal there. He tightened his grip and yanked. The quill came out as the dog yowled with pain and snapped just over Noah’s hand. Then the dog immediately began licking the wound.

  “You helped him,” Miigwans said, rich with feeling. “He’s a good dog, isn’t he? He didn’t bite you.”

  Noah stroked the dog’s head and long ears, his own nerves easing. “Yes, he’s a smart dog, too. He knew he needed help. He must have lost his family. Are you lonely, boy?”

  Gordy and Martin approached quietly, slowly. “Looks like a hunting dog. They can be worth their weight in gold to a man.”

  The dog rested its head on Noah’s knee for a few seconds as if in thanks.

  “Well, he’s adopted you, Noah,” Martin said. “You’re his new master.”

  Noah knew it was foolish, but a rush of warmth coursed through him. “He’ll be a fine dog after I get him cleaned up a bit. Martin, bring me my sack. I’ll give him my lunch. He looks starved.”

  Soon Noah was feeding the dog. It stood and Noah ran his hands over him. “Well, I guess I should be calling you ‘girl.’” He felt her bulging abdomen. “And you’re full of pups.”

  “Whoa, that’s good. Put me down for one,” Gordy said. “Please.”

  The last word sounded uncertain as if Gordy didn’t know if he could ask this of Noah. This told Noah more than anything else could that Gordy felt their estrangement maybe as much as Noah did. “Sure. How about you, Martin?”

  “Excellent. I’ve always had a dog,” the younger man replied, sounding touched.

  “Can I have one?” Miigwans asked.

  “We’ll ask your mother. And we don’t know how many she’ll have or if they’ll all be healthy.” Noah watched both Gordy and Martin lean forward to pet the stray. Then Miigwans ventured to touch the dog’s head. The dog licked the boy’s hand.

  “She likes me.” Miigwans smiled.

  “Means she’s a good judge of character, son,” Gordy said.

  Noah’s heart warmed toward this man—his friend.

  * * *

  “Ninga wegimind! My mother!” Miigwans shouted as he ran ahead of the oxen into Noah’s clearing where the clotheslines sagged with clothing. “We have a dog!”

  Noah and Martin walked beside the oxen and exchanged grins at the boy’s exuberance.

  Sunny raced out of the cabin and straight to Noah. She flung her arms around his chest. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re home.” Her voice vibrated with fear.

  Noah dropped the oxen leads and wrapped his arms around her as she shivered against him. “What’s happened?” he said, his voice sharp.

  “A man came and threatened us,” Ophelia said, running to Martin. “I’ve been so frightened. I couldn’t walk home without an escort. Oh, Martin, he threatened us and Sunny aimed a rifle at him.”

  Shock shot through Noah in barbed waves, followed by hot rage. “A man? Threatened you?”

  Sunny drew in a deep breath and looked up at him. “I’m glad you always leave a loaded rifle inside the door. I think that’s the only reason he backed off.”

  “But why did he threaten you?” Noah asked, gripping Sunny’s elbows. Anger leaped inside him like flames.

  “Because of me,” Bid’a ban said from the doorway. “He came to get me.”

  “Why?” Martin asked.

  Bid’a ban’s eyes filled with tears and she seemed unable to answer.

  “He said that Indians aren’t supposed to be here,” Ophelia said, then lowered her eyes and voice. “He said that he’d lost his family in the trouble in ’62.”

  “What trouble?” Noah asked, trying to control his white-hot anger. He’d been too busy in 1862 just trying to stay alive to catch much news.

  “The Dakota tried to push the whites out of Minnesota. Many whites and Dakota died,” Bid’a ban said. “I’m not Dakota. My people have lived in peace with the whites for a long time. I should have stayed in Lac du Flambeau with my people, not come south. All I have gotten is trouble here.”

  Noah tried to absorb all this information. But the main point was that a stranger had come and threatened his wife. He held Sunny close, feeling her softness against him, feeling her fear. “Describe him to me.” I will find him and teach him to leave my family alone.

  As Sunny told Noah what the man looked like, Noah immediately thought of the stranger he’d seen lingering in town, staring at them.

  He looked at Bid’a ban, who would not meet anyone’s eyes.

  There was something more to this story than he and Sunny knew.

  Chapter Eleven

  Distracted with worry, Sunny somehow got herself busy preparing supper. Since Martin had taken Ophelia home, Bid’a ban had remained silent, sitting against the wall near the hearth, looking crushed. Sunny tried not to look at the rifle, propped again by the door. Perversely her eyes insisted on drifting toward it, prompting her heart to race—just as it had when she’d confronted the stranger. What would happen now? Would the stranger return?

  Noah sat in the rocking chair, brooding. The dog he’d brought home lay in front of the door, tracking Noah with its soulful brown eyes. Sunny had bathed the dog’s paw with salt water to help it heal and then fed her some leftover corn bread. Even Dawn appeared to have absorbed everyone’s pensive mood. As usual, she’d pulled herself up at Noah’s knee. But instead of filling the cabin with her baby talk, she merely gazed up at him.

  Sunny wished she could break the heavy silence. But she could think of nothing to say that wouldn’t make Noah feel worse—no doubt he was upset that he’d been away when trouble came to their door. But as soon as Noah had come home, she’d felt instantly safe. Should she tell him that?

  Stopping herself from adding salt to the pot a second time, she sighed. “Let’s eat, even if we don’t have much of an appetite.” The four of them gathered at the table. Noah said grace and they began eating, still in melancholy silence.

  Finally Noah looked across the table to Bid’a ban. “What did bring you so far south from home?”

  Sunny wondered at his question.

  The woman looked distressed. “My husband was Ho-Chunk. The whites call them Winnebago. His people lived near here. He came north to work logging. We married. After he died, I thought I should visit his mother. But I arrived at the wrong time.” She put an arm around her son. “The soldiers came and made the Ho-Chunk leave, go to Nebraska.”

  “Nebraska?” Sunny echoed. “Why so far?”

  “When the Western tribes cause trouble, we all suffer.” Bid’a ban looked down. “I could not persuade
the soldiers I was Ojibwa and should go north, go home. When we went south through Iowa, my husband’s mother died. I buried her. Then we slipped away. You see I dress like a white woman. With my bonnet, no one could see I wasn’t white. I put a hat on Miigwans and we slipped away.”

  Sunny read between the lines—the injustice, the outrage, the helplessness of being swept up in something like this, something like an avalanche she had witnessed in Idaho. Sunny knew how being overpowered by life felt. She reached across and patted Bid’a ban’s hand.

  “Have you ever seen that stranger before, Bid’a ban?” Noah asked.

  At first Bid’a ban didn’t answer Noah, and Sunny was upset with him for asking such a question. But the silence was heavy as they waited to hear what she’d say, and Sunny began to wonder if Noah was right to ask her such a thing. Finally Bid’a ban looked Noah in the eye and said, “I know him.”

  Sunny was stunned. “How, Bid’a ban?”

  “When I reached Wisconsin, my bonnet did not fool him. He knew what I was. He knew I couldn’t ask others for help. I had to...live with him.”

  Sunny felt sick to her stomach. She understood exactly what Bid’a ban wasn’t saying. They were more alike than Bid’a ban would ever know.

  “Was he lying when he said his family had been killed by Indians?” Noah asked.

  “All I can say is that he is a man who hates Indians. All Indians,” Bid’a ban said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

  Sunny read more than the words. The man had abused Bid’a ban and terrified her. This woman had fled just as Sunny had when she went to the Gabriels. Sunny swallowed down her own memories. “You will stay here with us, Bid’a ban. You will stay here until we know you and Miigwans are safe.”

  Noah looked sharply at Sunny, causing her face to burn. Had she said something wrong? Surely Noah agreed with her—didn’t he?

  Bid’a ban glanced at Noah, looking both afraid and resentful.