Lionel pulled at the string, but was surprised to find that the small tugs did little to release the necklace. Something within spoke again, telling him to pull harder, so he did. He yanked at it with a short, quick motion, freeing the bear claws but not without a price. Lionel felt the necklace break, and stumbled backward, holding what had once been a circle, but was now a long string of bear claws.
“Say, there.” A voice from behind startled Lionel. “Say, boy, what the hell ya doin’ over there?”
Lionel spun around, slipping the claws into his coat pocket. There stood Sergeant Haskell Jenkins.
“Who you got with ya in the snow there?” Jenkins spat. His words had a slight slur to them.
“I-I-I don’t know,” Lionel stammered, stepping back from the Frozen Man. He hoped that Jenkins hadn’t seen him slip the claws into his pocket.
Jenkins moved closer, until he stood above Lionel and the frozen corpse. Lionel looked up into Sergeant Jenkins’s face. A jagged scar started at his pointy chin, snaked up and over the left side of his mouth, then continued until it disappeared beneath a coarse black leather patch that covered his left eye. The mark pushed the good side of Jenkins’s mouth into what looked to be a permanent sneer, and the patch was crossed with a hobnailed X. Jenkins liked to tell people, especially the ladies at Gorence Trading Post, that he had received his alteration at the hands of “fierce savages” in the “defense of this Great Nation.” In reality, nothing could be further from the truth. The scar that took one eye and slurred Jenkins’s speech was actually the result of a drunken debacle with a log-cutting machine at the wyoming State Fair. The machine ran a long chainlike blade off of a steam driven engine, and the moment that Jenkins, who offered to demonstrate the contraption, laid the blade on the log, the chain kicked back, buckled, and broke, taking a good chunk of Jenkins’s face with it.
Jenkins pulled his wool cap from his head and kicked at the Frozen Man with his shiny black boot. “Aw, hell boy. Don’t be scared. It’s just a dead, drunk Indian.”
Lionel watched as Jenkins reached down and rifled a few coins from the man’s pockets, then pried a hunting knife from the Frozen Man’s belt. Jenkins turned and raised a crooked finger to his snarled lips.
“That’s our little secret, you understand?” Jenkins said this while drawing the sheathed blade of the Frozen Man’s hunting knife across his neck. “Understand?”
Lionel nodded his head as Jenkins pocketed the coins. He was suddenly overcome with a feeling of shame for having taken the Frozen Man’s necklace. He thought about what Beatrice had told him about where his father and mother had gone, versus where Brother Finn said they had gone when they died. He wondered where the Frozen Man was off to, and if he might have needed his bear claws with him when he got there.
“I’m guessing that the old chief had a little too much firewater,” a familiar voice said.
Lionel looked up into the bad teeth and scraggly beard of Jenkins’s running buddy, Private Samuel Lumpkin. “That about right, boy?” Lumpkin continued.
Under different circumstances Lumpkin and Jenkins might not have been friends, but years in the service on the plains had brought them together, and their general disrespect for everything, including themselves, had solidified the deal. Lumpkin knelt down and wrested the bottle from the Frozen Man’s hand.
“Spoils of war,” Lumpkin said. But as he stood, he startled. on the fence directly in front of him sat Beatrice.
Beatrice looked Lumpkin in the eye with an unnerving intensity. Lumpkin took a step back, still holding the bottle.
“Who in the hell are you?” he asked, collecting himself.
“Beatrice,” she answered, her voice steady.
Jenkins took a step toward Beatrice, the Frozen Man still in prayer at his feet.
“Beatrice, huh?” Jenkins slurred. “Well, Beatrice, as I was tellin’ yer young schoolmate here, this is our li’l secret.”
Ulysses continued to nervously shift and move about the corral behind Beatrice. A bugle blew in the background, which was soon followed by the ringing of Brother Finn’s bell. Lionel watched as the children made their way into the chapel, but he knew that his sister would remain where she was, sitting on the rail. She would wait to make sure that the two soldiers didn’t do anything more to disrespect the corpse.
“You heard the bell, git!” Jenkins shouted.
Beatrice didn’t move, so Lionel didn’t move.
Jenkins took another step closer to Beatrice, his hand on the beaded sheath of the knife that he had stolen from the Frozen Man.
“What’s a matter with this one? Don’t she speak English?” Jenkins asked, turning to Lumpkin, then back to Beatrice. “You deaf? Hard of hearing?”
Jenkins reached out, grabbing a firm hold of Beatrice’s patchwork jacket. Beatrice still didn’t move, but Ulysses did. The big horse reared back on his hind legs, then rushed the fence, almost ramming it with his head. Private Lumpkin jumped back, knocking Lionel to the ground.
Beatrice remained calmly perched on the fence as though she alone were in control of Ulysses, her own personal cyclone. Sergeant Jenkins hadn’t moved either, which seemed to inspire Ulysses to rear back on his hind legs again and paw viciously at the air. The commotion had drawn the attention of Brother Finn, who now stood at the open door.
“What is this?” Brother Finn inquired. “Sergeant, what’s going on here?”
“Just another Injun, Monsignor,” Lumpkin answered. “But this one’s real drunk.”
“Private, I’ve told you before I am not the Monsignor. Brother Finn will do.” He hurried to the Frozen Man and knelt down to feel his forehead.
Jenkins’s and Beatrice’s eyes were locked. Up on the hill, Lionel saw the captain appear on the porch of his residence.
“Drunk? My Lord and Savior, Private, this man is dead.” Flustered, Brother Finn released the Frozen Man. “Alright, you two. Let’s go. Time for Mass. we’ll have to say a prayer for this poor soul.”
Beatrice jumped down from the fence, still eyeing Lumpkin and Jenkins. More soldiers gathered as Brother Finn urged Lionel and Beatrice toward the chapel. The captain turned back to his quarters, and a soldier entered the corral and tried to calm Ulysses, who still paced, snorting and kicking at the air.
“Don’t worry, Brother Finn. we’ll see that the man gets a proper Christian burial,” Jenkins said. “Whether the heathen deserves it or not.”
Brother Finn nodded and continued toward the steps.
“Oh, and Be-a-trice,” Jenkins went on, “why don’t you come see me after Mass. You’re wearin’ your hair a tad bit longer than current regulations.”
Lionel saw Jenkins give Beatrice a scalping sign behind Brother Finn’s back. Beatrice eyed Jenkins all the way to and up the stairs of the chapel.
“Who in the hell does that creepy little Injun think she is?” Lionel heard Lumpkin shout. He didn’t catch what the private said next as the chapel door closed, holding Lionel and Beatrice to the darkness within.
Chapter Three
THE CHAPEL • GRIDIRON • BEATRICE STANDS • AN EAGLE & THREE HAWKS • EXPULSION
THE CHILDREN were restless through Mass, craning their necks to look out the thick stained-glass windows, trying to get a glimpse of the Frozen Man. From where he sat, Lionel could see the soldiers. They passed the Frozen Man’s bottle of corn liquor between them, each taking a swig. Lumpkin sat in the snow with his arm around the Frozen Man and held the bottle up before drinking. Then, the men tried, as best they could, to lift the man. But the Frozen Man remained kneeling, his arm outstretched, and this made it difficult.
The priest joined Brother Finn at the altar. They droned on in Latin while Lionel and the rest of the children listened, not really having a clue what they said.
Lionel glanced at Beatrice, who stared silently at the crucifix that hung above the altar. Beatrice once told Lionel that she admired Christ and said that he must have been a great man to be able to face death with such convicti
on. Lionel saw that Delores Ground was also looking at Beatrice and then at him. He quickly dropped his head and stared down at his shoes.
Lionel and Delores had been partners once when the captain’s wife had gathered the children and tried to teach them a dance from the East that she called the Virginia Reel. Lionel thought that he would someday take Delores as his wife, but that was before Barney Little Plume, from the school down by Heart Butte, gave Delores some rock candy in exchange for a kiss.
The children from Heart Butte had come up for a day of athletic competition, and that afternoon, Chalk Bluff played Heart Butte in a game of gridiron football. Beatrice, despite being two years too young to play and a girl, ran with the ball to score on four different occasions. She also, on one of her many tackles, forced Barney to leave the game by breaking his leg. No one could stop Beatrice on that day. Chalk Bluff beat Heart Butte 32–0. After the game, the older men on the tribal council said that if Beatrice had been born a boy, she would have been a great warrior and horseman like her father and grandfather.
The Brothers and soldiers of Chalk Bluff were also impressed with Beatrice’s athleticism. They’d even gone so far as to hide from the Brothers who ran the Heart Butte School that Beatrice was a girl. They listed her as “Bill” on the team roster and tied her braids up, hiding them under a leather helmet. They knew that Chalk Bluff could always count on Beatrice. And they were right. In every competition, no matter what it was or who it was against, Beatrice won. That, and the fact that she got so sick, is why Lionel thought Beatrice received different treatment from the Brothers and soldiers than the rest of the students did.
The day of the Heart Butte football game was the last time that Lionel had held Delores Ground’s hand. Lionel eyed Delores across the chapel and once again thought that they would not be married after all.
“Now, if everyone will please bow your heads.”
Brother Finn broke from his Latin for a moment as the priest prepared the Eucharist for Communion. “Yes, bow your heads and say a prayer for the poor soul whose unfortunate demise was discovered this morning before Mass.”
The children did as they were told, some of them pulling out their rosaries and murmuring their way down the many beads. Lionel stole a glance at Beatrice who had begun her prayer, which also started as a low murmur but slowly grew to a chant, then a song. She held her head low, but would occasionally raise her eyes toward the paint-peeled ceiling, her song becoming more and more audible as she went. The priest had asked the children to pray, and as far as Lionel was concerned, he couldn’t tell the difference between Brother Finn’s prayers in Latin and what Beatrice was singing. He didn’t fully understand either of them, so he joined Beatrice.
Lionel’s song also started low, but soon grew. As he imitated Beatrice, he began to think about the great green pasture that stood before their grandfather’s house and the mountain that towered in the distance above his tiny cabin. He also thought of an eagle and the three hawks that he and Beatrice had seen circling overhead one day. They had watched them until they were only black dots in the bluest of blue skies.
Lionel heard a bell ring and no longer saw the sky. He looked toward the altar where Brother Finn stood glaring at him and Beatrice.
As their singing grew louder, Brother Finn urged them with his eyes to stop, then glanced with apprehension toward the priest, who looked around like an eagle, trying to determine where the song originated. A moment later, the priest was down from the altar and looming above Lionel.
Beatrice continued to sing. So Lionel continued to sing.
“And that will be enough of that there, Miss Beatrice, Mr. Lionel,” the priest announced. But the song continued.
Lionel looked out the window at Ulysses pacing restlessly in his corral and then stared down at the cracked, worn leather of his shoes. He continued to sing with Beatrice as Brother Finn tried to continue in Latin. The priest shot a glare at Brother Finn, who grew immediately silent.
“Miss Beatrice, Mr. Lionel, I said that is enough!”
The song stopped.
“I’m trying to pray,” Beatrice said firmly.
“Trying to pray by mumbling gibberish to the wind? I most certainly think not.” And this the priest punctuated by grabbing Beatrice and Lionel by their ears and yanking them to their feet, as if pulling a pair of jackrabbits from a hole.
And then Beatrice said it.
“What’s the difference from whatever the hell you’ve been mumblin’?”
A collective gasp came from the Brothers and children. Lionel thought that the priest’s face would explode. It turned red, then almost purple. The priest jerked them sideways toward the back of the chapel.
“I will not have you disrespecting the Lord with some half-cocked pagan philosophies in His house—or anywhere else, for that matter.”
The rest of the children were now on their feet trying to get a clear view. Another Brother, Brother Thomas, stood to make his way toward the priest, who was struggling to get Lionel and Beatrice down the aisle. Brother Thomas reached out as they passed, but missed, tripping over one of the other children and spilling into the aisle with a thud. The entire church erupted with laughter.
Brother Thomas scrambled back to his feet. “Eyes to the front!” he instructed the congregation in a tightened whisper.
“You are in the House of the Lord,” the priest continued. “You and your brother, Lionel, will act accordingly or prepare yourself to face the consequence of your actions.” The priest shoved them toward the door, but Beatrice suddenly stopped.
“You’ll leave my brother alone,” she said, as more a matter of fact than anything else.
The priest pulled Beatrice closer. “Is that right, young Beatrice? You’re quite bold today, aren’t ya? well, let me tell you something, my young friend, I will not have you disrupting these Holiest of the blessed sacraments.”
“Well, they ain’t mine,” Beatrice replied.
With this, the priest slapped Beatrice across the face. “And I will not have you comparing your heathen rituals to the direct word of our Savior.”
The priest pushed Beatrice out the double doors. Lionel tried to follow, but was grabbed by Brother Thomas. Jenkins, Lumpkin, and the other men scrambled to attention, hiding the green glass bottle in the snow.
The priest stood on the top step of the church, his heavy black robes engulfing Beatrice like the wings of a raven. “Sergeant, see to it that Miss Beatrice finds her way to the barber,” he said, releasing Beatrice’s ear and practically throwing her down the stairs, “and then to the quartermaster. I do not want to see her out of uniform again!”
The priest turned his back on Beatrice. He stepped inside the chapel, shut the doors behind him, then glared at Lionel and the other children as he stormed up the aisle to the altar.
Brother Thomas pulled Lionel down into the pew beside him. “If you’re smart, you won’t follow your sister’s arrogant ways!” he snapped.
Through the stained glass of the windows, Lionel saw the soldiers moving toward Beatrice.
Chapter Four
SHEEP SHEARS • LIONEL’S RUN • ESCAPE • ROLLING SEAS OF SNOW
LIONEL COULD hear Ulysses over the soldiers’ raised voices and Beatrice’s struggle. He could see the great horse running from one side of the corral to the other, kicking out his back legs and snorting at the wind. He craned his neck further and through the dirty colored glass could see the soldiers surround his sister.
“Aye, the Monsignor’s patience has run out, has it?” Jenkins shouted. He took hold of the back of Beatrice’s shirt and dragged her across the snow toward the water trough and the Frozen Man. “Private Lumpkin, I think we’ll save the barber some trouble. Bring them sheep shears from the shed.”
Private Lumpkin looked up from the hidden bottle to Sergeant Jenkins.
“Come on.” Jenkins’s voice grew more impatient. “I ain’t have all day to be dedicatin’ to the beautification of Injuns.”
A smal
l trickle of blood dripped from Beatrice’s ear and onto the fresh fallen snow. Lionel saw Beatrice look up at Jenkins and then toward the chapel, but the doors to the chapel were closed.
Lionel watched Lumpkin disappear into the tack room and return with a long pair of rusted iron sheep shears.
“We best be making sure she’s clean, first.” Jenkins laughed as he yanked Beatrice up and over the side of the trough.
“Eyes in front, now!” Brother Thomas warned, and Lionel turned to the altar and the crucifix. He stared at the silent statue’s thorny crown and the blood that ran down the sides of its face. He looked back to Beatrice and watched in horror as Jenkins cracked the ice on top of the trough’s cold water with his sister’s head.
Lionel looked again to Ulysses and then, without thinking, broke free from Brother Thomas’s grip and ran. Brother Thomas tried to follow but tripped, this time over the kneeler. The rest of the children spun around, their eyes following Lionel as he burst out the doors and down the steps.
“Settle down there, let me get ahold of ya,” Jenkins continued, forcing Beatrice’s head below the water’s surface. Beatrice struggled, then seemed to relax, her body still moving but with less fight. “Ah, there we go. Perhaps a bit of a breather.”
Jenkins pulled Beatrice’s head from the water and stared at her as one might watch a landed fish gasping for its last breath.
“Gimme them shears!” Jenkins barked, his breath smelling of the corn liquor from the Frozen Man’s bottle. He shoved Beatrice’s head under a second time. Beatrice struggled but again could not break free.
“God damn it, hold still!” Jenkins cried as he tried to get a good grip on Beatrice with one hand, holding the shears with the other. Beatrice briefly broke the surface.
Lionel reached the men and hurled himself at them as best he could by pouncing on Private Lumpkin’s back. Lumpkin quickly threw him off, and he landed with a thud against Ulysses’s corral.
“What’s with you, boy? Have you lost yer mind?”
Starfish Page 2
