Through Rushing Water

by Catherine Richmond

  Webster grinned and leaned a hand on his hip. “If you think I’m buying you dinner, Tom—”

  “I recognize you.” A third man, older than the first two, nodded at Will. “You were coming when I was going. I’m Charles Birkett, Ponca agent in ’73. I’d like to hear what’s happened since I left.”

  The organist pumped out the first hymn.

  “After the service, let’s head for one of the restaurants downtown,” Will said. The men took their seats. He’d have to tell Sophia that what he’d missed out on with letter writing, he was making up for in talking.

  Summer’s heat beat down on the small building and pushed in through the open windows. The bishop skipped his robe. The male parishioners shed their coats.

  In the front row Sophia fluttered her fan. A curl loosened and spiraled down the back of her neck. She reached up and undid the top button of her dress.

  Will’s mouth went dry.

  He closed his eyes and prayed.

  Mrs. Windsor expected Brownell Hall’s young ladies to conduct themselves as part of a noble Christian family, to live up to the plane of high privilege. Which they had done every day until today.

  Sophia turned from the window where warm spring air danced. The breeze did not carry any identifiable fragrance like lilac, but a heady mixture of growing grasses. And the echoes of hammers on wood.

  Was it Will? She could imagine his strong fingers around a hammer—

  Giggling echoed through the halls. Her older class entered, laughing and jostling one another. Not the expected behavior for examination day.

  “Oh, Miss Makinoff, it’s so exciting! Carrie’s getting married!”

  The girl in question turned pink to the roots of her hair and bounced on her toes. She looked too young to spell “wife,” let alone become a bride. “John asked me last night!”

  The other three girls burst into discussions about dresses, flowers, and Niagara Falls.

  “Mademoiselles.” Sophia’s firm tone had them scurrying into their seats. “Congratulations,” she said to Carrie, then to the class, “Please, for this hour, bring your minds back to your French examination. You have all worked incredibly hard these past five weeks. I hope your test scores will reflect your effort.” She passed out the lined paper, then raised the map to unveil their essay questions.

  Jeannette, Marielle, and Manon put their hands to the plow, so to speak. But Caroline managed only to write her name before she drifted off.

  Love, Sophia pondered as her heart beat to a distant hammer’s rhythm, was quite a bit of trouble.

  Will followed Goldie up the hill to Harrison’s house. His knees ached from laying floors all day. His shoulders were sore from nailing crown molding on ceilings yesterday. His eyes stung from varnish fumes. Stain had settled into the cracks and lines of his hands. Sweat stuck sawdust to his skin. He wanted to go home and soak in a hot bath, but first he had to talk to Harrison about Armin.

  Goldie spotted a rabbit and dashed across the vacant lot. The cottontail slipped between the pickets of the Morrisons’ fence, then turned to gloat with a twitch of long ears and a flash of a white tail. The dog gave a woof of frustration.

  Armin had turned out to be a good worker, but they’d about run out of unskilled jobs for him at the Poppletons’. Maybe Harrison could apprentice him to someone. And find a place for the kid to live.

  Goldie had nosed the boy out from under the back porch the second morning. Then, bucking Preben and Kjell’s dire predictions of theft, Will had brought a blanket for him and let him sleep in the carriage house. Unless the Poppletons needed a stable boy, Armin would have to move out next week.

  Buddy dashed down the drive to meet them. The dogs circled and sniffed, then decided to be friends and romped off around the back side of Harrison’s house.

  Will left his shoes on the porch, paused to admire a sunset as red as new cherrywood, then went in. Smelled delicious. Mrs. O’Reilly must have tried a new recipe.

  Goldie must have smelled it too. Before Will got the door closed, she reappeared and nosed her way inside. Buddy stayed in the yard, on guard, but Goldie went straight for a bite of meat on the floor beside the stove. Then she trailed the smell into the dining room.

  “Zlata!” A familiar voice began to coo over her in French.

  Sophia was here. A lightning bolt shot through Will, tightening his skin and stopping his heart for a moment. He should have washed up, changed clothes. Well, she’d seen him dirtier than this.

  “Does the dog know French?” Lafayette asked.

  “Bien sur.” She spoke again, her voice climbing the scale as if asking questions. Will thought he heard his name, so he met her at the doorway. She wore one of Tilly’s aprons over a new green dress. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks pink, and a whole passel of curls had escaped her knot. He’d never seen anyone prettier.

  “Will! You are in time for dinner.”

  “Bonjour, Oncle,” Leo said.

  “It’s bonsoir, you dolt.” Lafayette smirked.

  “No name-calling,” he said in unison with Sophia. He glanced up, met her gaze, and they shared a smile.

  “Bonsoir, ma petite chienne.” Josie waved at Goldie, who was sniffing the floor for additional tidbits.

  Sophia collected a plate and fork from the sideboard. “S’ il vous plaît, please, join us. We have plenty.”

  “Plenty of what?” He lifted the heavy silver cover off the serving dish. Hmm, something new.

  “They’re crêpes,” Josie informed him. “Miss Makinoff showed us how to make them for our French lesson.”

  Leo and Lafayette spouted off a bunch of French words, hopefully having to do with food.

  Crêpes turned out to be thin pancakes wrapped around asparagus spears, sliced ham, and cheese. Will took Harrison’s chair, the better to watch Sophia, who sat in Tilly’s.

  “Miss Makinoff says we call them blini if we want to learn Russian,” Josie told him. “But then we’d have to fill them with caviar, which Miss Makinoff says is fish eggs.” Her pointed nose wrinkled.

  “As if asparagus isn’t bad enough.” Leo left the stalks on his plate.

  “So where are your parents?” Will asked as he dug in. Hmm. Not bad.

  “Mom and Dad took the O’Reillys to the hospital.”

  “What’s wrong? Who’s sick?”

  “Mr. O’Reilly took ill.” Sophia’s hands shook as she cut Josie’s food.

  “He grabbed his chest and fell on the ground.” Leo clutched his shirt, tipped out of his chair, and rolled under the table. “Ew, Oncle Will, your feet stink.”

  Will poked him with a toe. “You wouldn’t smell them if you stayed on your chair where you belong.” Had he been this unruly the whole time Sophia was here?

  Sophia murmured words in French that had Leo scrambling back into his chair and apologizing. Then she turned to Will. “So, how have you been?”

  “Busy.” He knew he was staring but he couldn’t stop himself. Couldn’t she see how great this was, having a family, sitting around the table together? No, she was a princess from a fairy tale, visiting the commoners, him the most common of all. “And you?”

  Her eyes sparkled in the light from the chandelier. She gave the children a smile. “We have had wonderful fun. Playing French games, cooking French food, singing French songs.”

  “With a Russian instrument?” Yes, the gusli rested on the organ.

  “Bien sur. And Goldie? How is she adapting?”

  “Great. Big help at work. When we’re sawing, hammering, making a racket, she lets us know when someone’s coming.”

  “Bon travail, ma petite chienne,” Sophia said. Goldie wagged her whole body and sidled closer.

  “Oncle Will.” Josie uncovered another dish and said a French word that sounded like dessert.

  Will found more crêpes wrapped around strawberries. He smiled at Sophia. “And you said you couldn’t cook.”

  She did her pretty shoulder dance.

  “Miss Makinoff said
she can only cook French food.” Leo fidgeted as the platter made its slow way around the table.

  “I don’t mind. Not a bit.” Will cleaned his plate.

  “Iced tea?” Sophia asked.

  “I’d better have coffee, if there’s any.” He’d have to stop by the hospital, see how Mr. O’Reilly was doing.

  “Il voudrait le café,” Lafayette pronounced.

  “Oh yeah.” Leo waved his knife. “Je voudrais plus de fraises.”

  Sophia turned him down, with words that sounded like stomachache. Will thought maybe he could learn French too.

  Buddy’s bark and the rumble of a wagon had everyone racing out the back door. To Will’s relief, Mr. O’Reilly was with them. The older man climbed down and started to unharness the horses.

  “I’ll get that.” Will shoved his feet back into his brogans. “You go rest.”

  “I’m fit as a fiddle, I tell you.” The man patted his chest, but Will noticed it took him two breaths to get the words out.

  “Seems like fiddles break easily. Thanks, Lafayette,” Will told his nephew as he took Traveler.

  “The doctor told you to rest.” Harrison unhitched Ajax. “We’ve got it. And you too, Mrs. O’Reilly.”

  The woman seemed to have shrunk overnight. She wrung her hands and looked from her husband toward the kitchen. “But supper—”

  “The children have been fed.” Sophia handed her a covered plate. “I hope you do not mind. We harvested some of your beautiful asparagus.”

  Mrs. O’Reilly thanked her. Dish in one arm, Mr. O’Reilly under the other, they climbed up to the carriage house apartment.

  “You got the children to eat asparagus?” Tilly asked.

  “Well, not Leo, of course. But the other two were adventurous.” She took off Tilly’s apron, a gesture that made Will as hot and dizzy as breathing varnish fumes.

  “Hey! I’m adventurous.” The little stinker stomped his foot.

  Will glanced at Goldie, who watched the hubbub from the back porch. He’d say his good-byes, then they could walk Sophia back to school.

  “Come try our crêpes!” Josie pulled her mother’s arm. “Miss Makinoff said we did a good job.”

  “Thank you so much for staying with the children.” Tilly embraced Sophia. “I hope they weren’t too wild.”

  “Not at all. They were delightful.”

  “We’re not wild,” Leo said. “She’s used to Indians.”

  “Who are much more civilized than you.” Will rubbed his knuckles in Leo’s hair.

  Buddy barked. A man climbed up the drive carrying a lantern. The lights from the house showed Mr. Sullivan, the caretaker at Brownell Hall. “I saw the carriage return, so I’ve come for Miss Makinoff.”

  So much for Will’s plan. Rotten Omaha. Everyone could see what everyone else was doing.

  “You are too kind, Mr. Sullivan. One moment, please. I have a concluding French lesson for my students. Line up, s’ il vous plaît. Gros bisous.” Sophia clasped Lafayette by the shoulders and kissed his cheeks. The boy’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Sorry, kid, I saw her first.

  Then she grabbed Leo by the ears and managed to keep him from squirming away. Josie lifted her face and gave as many kisses as she got. Buddy and Goldie joined the line. With a laugh, Sophia bent to the pups, earning a wet kiss in her ear from Goldie.

  Will opened his arms and she stepped into them, bringing her own sweet fragrance. Yes. He had her right where she belonged. “I’m sorry I can’t walk you home,” he whispered as the first kiss brushed his cheek, making his skin tingle.

  At the second kiss, she said, “I have missed you terribly.”

  She missed him? His blood rushed warm, making his head spin. The third kiss was last, but not nearly enough. “Can you wear your riding skirt to the picnic tomorrow?”

  Sophia’s eyes glittered. “Mais, oui! Oh yes!” Then she hurried off with Mr. Sullivan. “Bonne nuit!”

  “Bonne nuit!” the children called.

  Floating a good foot off the ground, Will collected Goldie and they headed home.

  Sophia had missed him.

  Sophia had been thinking about him.

  Sophia agreed to go riding with him tomorrow.

  At his gate he stopped. Why had he gone to Harrison’s? He couldn’t remember to save his life.

  But it didn’t matter. He’d think of it later.

  Right now he had Sophia on his mind.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Then the player grabs the handkerchief and tries to catch the runner,” Will’s sister, Charlotte, explained. A schoolteacher in Exira, Iowa, she expounded on educational topics like a zealot. She had Will’s curly hair, albeit with a touch of silver, and Harrison’s full cheeks. “Meanwhile the runner tries to get back to the space left open in the circle.”

  “Yes, I remember playing a similar game in Russia.” Sophia fanned herself. The heat must be affecting her head. Ordinarily she enjoyed talking about teaching, but today she could think only of Will. Where was he? When would he come for her?

  The Union Pacific Railroad’s brass band performed “Yankee Doodle.” A company of soldiers passed, marching with enthusiasm if not precision.

  “Mama, Aunt Charlotte, Miss Makinoff!” Leo barreled into them. “Elephants, hippopotamus, tigers, rhinoceros!”

  “Where?” Sophia reached for her pistol but did not see any danger.

  “On a poster.” Lafayette shrugged, the expression on his face shifting between childish excitement and adolescent boredom. “The circus is coming Saturday.”

  “Can we go, Mama?” Josephine asked. “I have always wanted to see a circus.” “Always” being the entire four years of her life. Tilly and Sophia exchanged smiles, trying not to laugh.

  “Only well-behaved children may attend the circus,” Charlotte answered with a waggle of her finger. “No beggars or whiners.”

  Sophia hoped she set aside her teacher’s voice more easily than Charlotte did.

  “Sophia, I distinctly remember pink rosettes on your hat,” Tilly said. “You’ll have to let the milliner know they’ve fallen off, so she can attach new ones.”

  “She may have gone back east,” Sophia said, trying not to let the hope seem too obvious.

  “Let’s go watch the baseball game,” Harrison called to the children. They headed downhill to a vacant lot with the ambitious name of Jefferson Square.

  “We had a lovely Fourth of July picnic last year,” Tilly told Sophia as she stacked the plates. “Perfect weather. The whole town celebrated the centennial. One of the Creighton brothers gave a speech. Was it Edward? No, he’s passed. It must have been John. Then the news came about General Custer. We were sick with worry for Will.”

  “We were never in any danger.” With the exception of the Brulé, whiskey traders, and the heartbreak of watching friends suffer. Sophia offered up a silent prayer that the Poncas might be spared further anguish. “The Poncas all love and respect Will.”

  Charlotte fanned herself with a napkin. “Can the Indian understand the concept of love, of respect?”

  Sophia gritted her teeth. Charlotte lived in a state with an Indian name, but had yet to meet an actual live Indian. “Certainly. They are a loving people, especially toward their children. Elders are treated with a great deal of reverence.”

  Charlotte frowned. “You and Will make them sound like regular people.”

  “Exactly.” Sophia stood to help Tilly shake out the blanket. “Perhaps stronger, better than us. How many white people could have survived years of starvation, attacks, broken promises—”

  “Do I hear a rousing Fourth of July speech?” Will sauntered up and grabbed the picnic box. He had rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, exposing his wrists . . . strong bones, ropy muscles, long fingers. Sophia’s heart increased its pace from a walk to a trot. She squeezed the blanket to keep from throwing herself into his arms.

  “Tilly, how about I stow this.” It was not a question. “Charlotte, I’ll borrow Sop
hia for a while, if you don’t mind.” He gave Sophia a sidelong glance—a Ponca habit or a touch of nervousness? “We can go riding now, if you don’t mind missing a couple of innings.”

  “Not at all.” Finally, an opportunity to be alone with Will. She had been waiting for this for weeks, since they had left the Agency. “I would be pleased to join you.”

  He whistled. A group of children broke apart, releasing a yellow dog. With a joyful woof Goldie raced around Sophia and Will three times before slowing enough to be petted. Her whole back end wagged.

  “She looks wonderful,” Sophia told Will as they walked to the surrey. “And so do you.”

  “We’re both eating on a regular basis.” Will wedged the basket under the carriage seat, then turned to her and shook his head. “Every meal I think about our friends.”

  “And pray they have something to eat.” Sophia nodded her understanding.

  With the crowd watching the baseball game, quiet reigned on this street. She should take the opportunity and speak her mind before they were interrupted—before the children decided to join them, or one of Will’s old friends recognized him, or someone else wanted to ask about life among the savages. “I have so much to talk to you about, I do not know where to start.”

  “I have something to show you first.” Evidently Will had made considerable effort planning for this ride. He had unharnessed the horses from the surrey, then saddled and bridled them. He held the stirrup for her. “This is Traveler. The other’s Ajax.”

  She released her skirt and mounted. “I have missed you so much. I have missed you at breakfast and supper, and our walks back and forth to school, and your visits—”

  His finger pressed under her chin. “We’ll talk. After our ride.”

  He swung into the saddle with ease. Goldie marched ahead of the horses as if she knew their destination.

  Sophia squeezed her knees, encouraging Traveler to catch up so she could see Will’s face. But the horse seemed determined to keep his nose by the other’s tail. Quite frustrating. Except . . . this was the first time she had seen Will ride. In truth the view was rather entrancing. As with everything else he did, he moved with casual grace. She forced her gaze to Traveler’s mane and tried to rein in her thoughts.