by Lyn Cote
“I’ve been thinking of names for your dog,” Miigwans said.
“What have you come up with?”
Noah considered whether he’d have to clear more trees before building a barn. He’d want a big sturdy one, so it would do them for years.
“We could call her friend. In our language, that’s Neechee.”
Noah looked down at the boy and tried to read his expression. This wasn’t just about a dog.
“If we named the dog a word from my language, when you say her name, you would remember me.” The boy looked down.
Touched, Noah stooped to be at eye level with him. “Neechee? That will be a good name for her. And, Miigwans, I will remember you. I am your Neechee.”
Miigwans looked up and grinned shyly.
The dog barked an alert, looking behind them toward the track. Noah petted the dog and silenced her. He reached for his rifle.
The jingle of a harness and the creaking of a wagon sounded amid the birdsong. He guessed who was coming and wasn’t disappointed when he finally glimpsed the old preacher through the trees. He couldn’t figure out what kept bringing Old Saul here. What did he want from them—from Noah?
Nonetheless, soon he was helping the older man down from the wagon. Breathing quickly, Old Saul stopped and looked around. “You’ve a fine start here. But you need a barn before winter.”
Noah chuckled. It sounded rusty, but felt good, too. “I was just thinking the same thing. What can we do for you, sir?”
The older man sent him a reproving look.
“I mean, what can we do for you, Old Saul?”
The preacher rested a hand on Miigwans’s shoulder. “Is that your dog, son?”
“No, it belongs to Noah. Her name is Neechee. That means friend.”
The older man nodded several times. “A good name. Is your mother inside?”
“Yes, Nimishómiss, my Grandfather.”
“Take me to her.” Beaming at the compliment, Old Saul took Miigwans’s hand.
The three of them walked to the cabin. Inside, Sunny was kneading dough on the table and Bid’a ban was sewing a shirt for her son.
“Good day, ladies.” The old preacher removed his hat and Noah hung it on a peg by the door.
Sunny curtsied but nodded toward her hands, deep in the bread dough. “I have to keep at this, sir.”
“Please do. I came because I needed to discuss something with your guest.”
“With me?” Bid’a ban looked startled and a little afraid. Her glance darted to Noah and Sunny, and back to the preacher.
“Yes.” Old Saul accepted Noah’s polite gesture and sat in the rocking chair while Miigwans sat near the door with Neechee.
Noah stood, his back against the wall, curious in spite of himself.
“I heard all about that stranger.” The older man looked strained as he spoke to Bid’a ban. “And even though he has evidently left the area, I think it wise that we take further action to protect this woman and her child.”
When Bid’a ban could not respond, Noah stepped in.
“What do you propose?” Noah asked.
“At fifteen, my grandson is old enough to offer adequate protection for a woman. I propose that he take our horse and accompany this woman and her child north to her people.”
Bid’a ban looked startled. “Take me home?” she managed to say.
“We haven’t heard back from Washington yet,” Noah pointed out, straightening up.
“That’s so. But when you do, my grandson will ride up there and give the letter to Bid’a ban. If I’m right, there will be an Indian agent up north, I think in Bayfield on Lake Superior. Her pension might be conveyed through him.”
“There’s something you’re not telling me,” Noah said, the worry from yesterday perched on top of his midsection.
Old Saul nodded. “I’ve been thinking on this. That stranger can still cause trouble for this woman and child. The Indians in this part of Wisconsin have been sent to Nebraska. If he tells someone in the army that she’s here, they could come and take her away. And he wouldn’t have to go too far. Fort Snelling in Minnesota is about sixty miles away across the Mississippi.”
Bid’a ban gasped.
Noah felt the same lurch inside.
And Miigwans protectively hurried to her side. “No.”
“I didn’t think of that.” Noah chewed his lower lip. “What do you say, Bid’a ban? Would you go north with Old Saul’s grandson?”
“Yes! I want to be with my family again.” Bid’a ban stood and bowed with gratitude to Old Saul. “Would your grandson do this?”
“He’s old enough to test his wings,” Old Saul said. “His parents are some worried about him going so far alone, but he’s got to start being a man sometime, no longer a boy. It will do you good and him good. In a few years he might have a wife and child to care for like you, Noah. Better start practicing. People nowadays coddle their young.” Old Saul shook his head, frowning.
“Migwetch.” Bid’a ban wrung Old Saul’s hand. “Thank you.” She repeated the words several times, bowing.
“I’m glad you will be reunited with your family.” Old Saul patted her shoulder. “Tomorrow my grandson will come to get you.”
“We’ll have food ready for him to take along,” Sunny said.
Noah’s gut loosened some. This was for the best. This woman and her son would be much safer among her own people than here.
Old Saul rose with some effort. “I’ll be going home then and getting the young man ready for the journey.”
With the boy and dog trailing behind, Noah walked Old Saul outside and helped him back onto the wagon. When the older man sat on the bench again, Noah looked up at him. “I hadn’t thought about that stranger stirring up more trouble. I’m glad you did.”
“I’m glad you helped her.” The old man lifted his reins. “She could have died and left that boy an orphan. You’re a fine man, Noah Whitmore.”
Noah reacted with a sound of derision. “I just want to live my life in peace.”
“Peace. Yes, we old soldiers all crave that.” Old Saul started his team turning around to go home. “War leaves a mark on a man.”
“You mean like Cain?” Noah said, charged with sudden anger at himself, at what he had done. “Marked for killing his brother? I saw that happen—brothers coming face-to-face, one in gray, one in blue.” He couldn’t go on. The anger left him as quickly as it had come.
The older man paused and stared at him for several moments. “Someday we’ll talk about that. But not today. I’ve got to go home and soothe my daughter-in-law’s worries about her ‘baby boy’ going all the way to Lake Superior on his own.”
Still digesting the comment about old soldiers, Noah just raised his hand in farewell. The wagon rocked and creaked its way down the track to the rough road.
Beside him, Miigwans’s head hung low.
“Don’t you want to go home?” Noah asked.
The boy looked up. “I won’t get to see the pups born. I wanted to see Neechee’s babies.”
Noah pulled the boy into a one-armed hug. “Don’t worry. If the pups are strong and there are at least three, I’ll send one to you—a girl if I can, so she can have pups, too. Then you can have dogs that remind you of Neechee and me.”
Noah let the boy lean into him for a moment. His father had always pushed him away. He vowed he would never do that to a child.
From the doorway Dawn called to Noah in her baby talk, cheering him up as always. He scooped up Miigwans and tossed him into the air and caught him. The boy squealed with laughter. And a grin won over Noah’s face. Then Noah ran to Dawn, set down Miigwans and lifted her with both hands, jiggling her and making her laugh, too.
Sunny watched him from just inside. The tenderness in
her gaze was directed to him, not Dawn. A frisson of awareness vibrated between them, wonderful yet terrifying.
Chapter Twelve
“I don’t know why that old man is showing us kindness,” Bid’a ban murmured to Sunny that evening. They were washing the dishes from supper alone in front of the cabin.
Sunny had wondered why Bid’a ban had remained so silent ever since Old Saul had left. “He’s a good man.”
Bid’a ban nodded, drying a bowl and then setting it on a shelf that Noah had crafted and hung. “Why? What makes one man bad, and another, like your husband, so kind?”
Sunny thought over what she’d learned when her life changed, when she’d gone to live with the Gabriels. She’d asked them why they were willing to help her in spite of the stigma attached to her. They had quoted the Bible, saying they were showing her God’s love. How would an Ojibwa woman take that for an answer?
“I think it has to do with God,” Sunny ventured.
“You mean Gitchie Manitou, the Great Spirit?”
“Do you know about God, Bid’a ban?” Sunny paused in scrubbing the stew pot.
“Who can know Him? His name also means the Great Mystery and he is to us, his children.”
God remained a great mystery to her, too. “I don’t know much about God. But I have learned that those who love Him, truly love Him, show that love to others. That’s why Old Saul can be kind.”
Sunny recalled that awful day so long ago when the other preacher had chased and beaten her mother. Why hadn’t he shown any of God’s love that day? Being a preacher evidently didn’t prove one knew much of God.
Bid’a ban nodded, looking thoughtful. “At my home a Zhaagnaash, a white man, comes to speak to us about the white man’s God.”
“Does he show love?” Sunny asked.
“Yes, he is kind and helps us.”
Sunny’s tension eased. “Then listen to him.” They finished washing and drying and went inside to put away the clean pot and dishes.
“I will listen to that Zhaagnaash,” Bid’a ban said.
Sunny wanted to say more, but couldn’t find the words. Instead she pressed her cheek to Bid’a ban’s and the woman returned the gesture. Sunny realized that she felt differently with Bid’a ban than with her other friends. She didn’t have to guard every word from this woman. This woman understood how life could be cruel in the same way that Sunny herself did.
Noah, Miigwans and Dawn came inside and the moment with Bid’a ban ended. Noah sat down on the bench. Neechee lay down across the threshold. Miigwans sat beside her, petting the dog.
Sunny praised God for this sturdy cabin, and for the man who’d built it and who now held her daughter on his knee, playing pony. Bid’a ban sat by the fire and began finishing Miigwans’s new shirt. And Sunny began packing food for Bid’a ban’s trip, trying not to think of their parting.
* * *
The next morning found them outside the cabin early, while dew still wet the grass. Caught between laughter and sorrow, Sunny picked up Dawn and hid behind her daughter. How could she bear to bid her friend goodbye?
Standing opposite her by the wagon, Old Saul, his son and daughter-in-law Lavina waited with Saul’s gawky grandsons. The one named Isaiah, who was going with Bid’a ban, held the reins of the packhorse. Noah was securing two sacks of provisions onto the horse’s back along with those Isaiah had already packed on.
Finished, Noah crossed to Miigwans who stood with a hand on Neechee’s head. When Noah reached Miigwans, the boy swung an arm around Noah’s waist. Nearby, his mother hesitated beside Sunny.
Bid’a ban appeared to be experiencing the same crosscurrents of emotions as Sunny. Nevertheless, she held out a hand toward Noah. “I can never thank you enough for what you did for me, Nin awema, my brother.”
“We were glad to help,” Noah said, squeezing and releasing her hand, a trace of a smile flickering on his somber face.
Sunny couldn’t stop herself. With Dawn on one hip, she wrapped one arm around Bid’a ban. “I’ll miss you,” she murmured.
“I will miss you, Nimissè, my sister.” Bid’a ban pressed her lips together as if holding back tears and stroked Dawn’s curls lovingly.
Sunny rubbed the woman’s arm. “I know you will be safe with Isaiah.” The young man barely sported peach fuzz on his chin but he looked sturdy and sensible. She recalled Ophelia’s homesickness. No doubt he’d feel the same distress. But he looked like the kind who would stick to this journey and see it through.
“I think we should be going,” Isaiah said, blushing when his voice cracked. “I want to put as many miles behind us as we can before sundown.” They would follow the Chippewa River northeast to the Flambeau River, which would lead them onto the Ojibwa land. About a week or so and they would reach Bid’a ban’s family.
Bid’a ban motioned, wordlessly prompting Miigwans to come away with her.
The boy buried his face into Noah’s shirt.
Sunny ached for the boy who’d found a father for a short time—and was now leaving him.
With an arm around the boy’s shoulders, Noah pressed the child close. “You’ll be fine. And Isaiah will bring you news of us and maybe a pup sometime before snow. I will miss you, Miigwans.” Noah’s voice halted, as if he, too, were choking back the sadness of parting.
Sunny moved closer to Noah and hugged Miigwans, who then bent to hug Neechee around the neck. The dog barked once and licked Miigwans’s face. The boy rose and went to his mother. Waving a pudgy little hand, Dawn babbled baby talk as if also saying farewell.
“We’ll pray once more.” Old Saul removed his hat and bowed his head. “God, we know that we are in Your hands. Keep our Isaiah and this lady and her son safe as they travel north. Bring help if they need it and good weather. We thank You, Lord. Amen.”
“I will say Gigawabamin Menawah. That means we will meet again,” Bid’a ban said, lifting her hand in farewell. Miigwans echoed her greeting, hanging his head.
Sunny sucked in air, not wanting to cry.
As Isaiah’s mother wiped away tears, the threesome—Isaiah leading the packhorse, Bid’a ban with Miigwans nearby—turned and walked down the trail.
“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Sunny murmured to Lavina.
The older woman sighed long. “He’s in God’s hands, as he always has been. We’ll see you Sunday then?”
“We’ll be there,” Noah replied. Sunny went and took her place beside him as the other family settled themselves on the wagon and headed down the track for home. Noah laid his arm upon her shoulder and she drew closer to him.
Noah and Sunny didn’t move until the wagon disappeared around the bend thick with trees, until they were alone again.
Dawn began squirming and holding out both hands toward Noah and he lifted her from Sunny’s arms. “I’ll play with her for a moment. Then I have to go to Martin’s to work on pulling out stumps.”
Missing his touch, Sunny didn’t relish being left alone. “Do you think the stranger is gone for good then?”
“I should have said we’ll be going to Martin’s.”
Sunny nodded. The heaviness of fear had lifted some but she agreed with Noah. They couldn’t let down their guard. “You don’t think he’ll be able to find out that Isaiah has taken Bid’a ban north and go after them, do you?”
Noah considered this as he swung Dawn up and down like a swing. “No, but I think he might tell the military at Fort Snelling. Though that won’t make any trouble for us. And if they come for her, she’ll already be far away. Are you ready to leave?” he asked.
“I’ll get my sewing basket.” Sunny wondered how long she’d have to spend every day with one of her neighbors. Inside, she checked on the slowly simmering pot of salt pork and beans that she had hung over the banked fire. She inhaled deeply, pushing away the
grave sorrow of parting. And then gathered what she needed for her day’s visit with Ophelia.
Within an hour she and Noah arrived at the young couple’s cabin. Martin met them at the door, looking strained. “I’m glad you’ve come, Mrs. Whitmore.” Before she could respond, he began talking to Noah.
Noah was carrying Dawn on his shoulders and he lifted her down to give her to Sunny. The baby squawked and struggled to stay with Noah.
“She sure loves her papa,” Martin said, grinning.
The comment stung some hidden place deep inside Sunny. Of course no one here would ever know that Noah was not Dawn’s father. So she smiled as expected. Noah headed toward the nearly cleared garden with Neechee and Martin.
With difficulty, Sunny carried the squirming and complaining child into the cabin.
Where she found Ophelia bent over the chamber pot, retching.
“Oh, dear!” Setting down Dawn, Sunny dropped to her knees. “Are you ill?”
Ophelia, pale and clammy looking, gazed at her in obvious misery. “I don’t have a fever, but I was sick like this the last two mornings and now again today. Yet I’m fine by lunchtime. What’s wrong with me, Sunny?”
At this unexpected news, Sunny sighed and hurried to dampen a cloth to wipe the young woman’s face. After several more minutes bent over the chamber pot, Ophelia found the strength to rise and sit on a chair at the table.
Suddenly Sunny noticed that Dawn was not making a sound. She looked around the neat cabin, dropped to her knees to look under the bed—no Dawn. And then she realized the door stood ajar. She rushed outside and cast frantic glances around, looking for the child and calling, “Dawn? Dawn!”
Then just as she recalled Dawn’s insistence on wanting to go with Noah, she heard Neechee’s frantic barking. She raced toward the sound. “Noah!” she shrieked. “Dawn’s outside! Watch for her!” Sunny ran the short distance toward the garden by the spring.
