Full Circle

by Rosanne Bittner

  Her place? Did he suspect how she really felt about Black Hawk? Was it such a terrible thing for a white woman to love an Indian man? Her mother had gone through so much heartache over the same thing… and the Indian man had lost his life.

  “My place is here, Reverend… teaching the Sioux, helping them through this terrible and frightening time of transition. They fear they are a dying race… and they have lost hope and pride. They drink whiskey to erase the hurt, and the whiskey is killing them. You know me well enough by now… to know that I don’t care what others think of anything I do. You tell them what you have to, but I will continue doing what I have to do… and if it means my going out alone to meet with someone in order to win their trust, then I will do it again.”

  He shook his head. “You’re a single-minded woman, and as dedicated as any missionary. I admire your courage, Miss Gibbons. I will go and talk to Agent McLaughlin right away.”

  “Please let me know as quickly as possible when Black Hawk has been released,” she asked.

  Their eyes held, and she realized he suspected her true feelings for the man and was not sure what to think. “I’ll do that,” he answered. He turned and left, and Janine came inside the room with a tray that held a pot of hot water and a cup for tea.

  “We’ll have you up and about in no time,” she told Evelyn. “I’ll bet you would like a bath and to have your hair washed. Anita and I can help you.” She set the tray on a stand beside the bed.

  “Janine.”

  The woman looked at Evelyn. “Yes?”

  “Did you know that Anita is in love with your brother?”

  Janine lost her smile. “What!”

  “She is a good, sweet, intelligent, educated young woman, Janine. Your brother should know how much he is loved.”

  Janine straightened, a look of incredulity on her face. “John could never love an Indian woman, Evy. It just isn’t right.”

  Evelyn closed her eyes for a moment in exasperation. “If you believe God loves these people, Janine… then why would it be wrong for a man of another race to love them? A lot of white men have married Indian women.”

  “But not… not men like John… not men of God. Whatever made you say such a thing? I think the fever has affected your mind.” The woman put on a smile and poured some tea. “Please don’t bring up such foolishness again, Evy.”

  But I love an Indian man. How could anything ever come of that love? No one understood it, and now she had lost what progress she might have made with Black Hawk. There was only one ray of hope left for her confusion and her aching heart: the vision… the dream yet to be realized.

  Fourteen

  Black Hawk sat quietly on his cot, forcing himself to concentrate on the outside world, the cool creek water and the green grass where he camped; the joy of holding his son in his arms, teaching him to hunt. He wondered if Wakantanka had forgotten him, for in this stinking, small dark hole, with no sunlight and no access to the outside world, how could his God hear his prayers?

  For six days now he had sat sweltering in this miserable, dark cubicle of a jail. Being built of brick only turned it into an oven in the hot late-August sun, and there was only one small, barred window high in the back for air. There was nothing inside but a cot with one blanket and a pot in the corner for personal needs.

  The heat and smell were so bad that sometimes he felt weak and nauseated. He wondered how much longer he could go on without literally getting physically sick and dying. He understood even better now why so many of his kind had died of disease and broken hearts in the white man’s prisons in the place far to the south, where he had heard it was always hot and where the air was also heavy with moisture; where insects ate a man to death.

  His misery was made worse by the beating he had taken from Sergeant Desmond and his men, cuts and bruises left untended. A blow to the head from the butt end of a rifle had left him dizzy the first three days he was here. His hatred for soldiers and whites in general had grown deeper. Why had he been put here when he had done nothing wrong? He had to get out, get to Little Fox. He had to see the sun, smell fresh air, bathe himself. No one had told him anything about Evelyn Gibbons—if she had improved, if she had died. Why had he been here so long? Was she unable to tell them the truth? Maybe they had not believed her.

  He closed his eyes, wishing he could get the beautiful schoolteacher out of his mind… and his heart. The things she had told him confused him. Was he meant to love her? He most certainly cared deeply for her, and to know she had had her own vision involving him only verified they were spiritually connected—but it was so wrong. He could not allow himself to love a white woman. He was in trouble already just from a mild friendship with her. And she in turn would surely never allow anything deeper than friendship between them. She was white, educated, from a world totally foreign to his own.

  He stretched out on the cot, his body bathed in perspiration, the air so stifling he felt like he would gag. He needed to talk to Night Hunter again, tell him of this revelation, these new, forbidden feelings. After what had happened, he was certainly better off never to see the white woman again, but then his vision could not be fulfilled.

  He heard someone at the thick, wooden door then, slipping aside the iron bar that kept it bolted shut. He slowly sat up, waiting, hoping that this was the day he would get his freedom. All senses came alert when Sergeant Desmond himself stepped inside. He could not see the man well because of the bright sunlight at his back, but by now he knew the shape of the man, knew his scent. He hated him as he had never hated anyone else in his life. There had been no cause for Desmond to have him beaten the day he was arrested, and the gleam of joy he’d seen in the man’s eyes when he was thrown into this sickening hole of a jail would burn in his memory for a long time to come. Why was he here now? To gloat? To tell him he was going to prison in a faraway place, or maybe be hanged? To have him beaten again? He would kill him before he let the man lay a hand on him again, even if it meant his own death.

  “Well, Black Hawk, much against my better judgment, you are a free man today. I think Agent McLaughlin and the Army are missing a good chance to be rid of you, but they say you’re to be released.”

  Black Hawk could hardly believe his ears. He slowly stood up, wearing only a loincloth. Because of the miserable heat inside the jail, he had shed the buckskin pants and shirt he had been wearing when he was brought here. He turned to pick them up from the cot, his eyes gradually adjusting to the light that was shed inside when the door was opened. He faced Desmond again, cautiously stepping closer. “The woman lives? She told you the truth?”

  Desmond’s pale-blue eyes moved over him scathingly. “She claims you saved her life. My question, and everybody else’s, is what in hell was she doing alone with you in the first place? I’ve got a feeling that white bitch has a burning for Indian men. You been humpin’ on that woman?”

  Black Hawk checked an urge to beat the man within an inch of his life. He could so easily do it. But more than anything he wanted to get out of this place. He didn’t dare touch the sergeant, and the man damn well knew it. “You have the mind of a child… an evil child. Miss Gibbons is a good woman, who was teaching my son to read and write, using her spare time to do it. Do not speak against her and insult her, or one day you might feel an arrow going into your back!” he sneered.

  Desmond’s hands moved into fists. “You threatening me, Black Hawk?”

  “I am telling you that you will not spread lies about Miss Gibbons! If you do, then you had better start always looking behind you!”

  “You’re the liar! You say you don’t know who shot Miss Gibbons. I think you do know! Why would you cover for them, when they might try to hurt her again?”

  “It will not happen again. I will make sure of it.”

  “And how do you propose to do that?”

  “It is not your concern. Give me my horse and my knife and I will leave this place.”

  “I’m su
pposed to take you to the lieutenant first. Agent McLaughlin and Reverend Phillips are waiting with him to talk to you before we let you go.”

  Black Hawk knew what they would say. They would warn him to cause no more trouble, even though he had done nothing wrong in the first place. He would listen to their rhetoric, and then he would leave this place and get Little Fox and never come back! “Then take me to them now,” he told Desmond. The longer he looked at the sergeant, the more difficult it was not to kill him. How many times had he been haunted by Wounded Knee? How many times did he wake up in a cold sweat after dreaming about his wife and baby son lying dead, Sergeant Jubal Desmond sitting nearby astride his horse, a bloody sword in his hand? Why was it all right for this man to murder a defenseless woman and a little boy, but it was not all right for the husband and father to get his revenge?

  “I’ll take you to headquarters,” Desmond told him. “You’ll get your knife back after that. You don’t really think I’d hand you that big blade while I’m standing here alone with you, do you?”

  Black Hawk moved closer, towering over him. “Are you afraid of me, sergeant?”

  Desmond drew in his breath, raising his chin. “I never said that. I just don’t trust any of you savages. You’d just as soon split a man’s gut as eat.”

  Black Hawk leaned closer, his dark eyes boring into the man. “If I could find a way, I would cut out your heart while you were still alive, and I would feed it and you to the wolves!”

  Desmond’s eyes moved into narrow slits. “You’re looking to lose your chance of getting out of here, you stinking savage!”

  Black Hawk just grinned. “I have not touched you. There will be a better time.” He enjoyed the worried look in Desmond’s eyes. Let him wonder. Let him lose sleep. “I am ready to go,” he announced.

  Desmond pulled his army revolver from its holster, cocking it and pressing it against Black Hawk’s belly. “One wrong move, you bastard, and it’s all I’ll need for an excuse to blow your guts out! Don’t forget what happened to Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull. Little misunderstandings, a little resistance, and you’re dead!”

  Black Hawk’s lips moved into a sneer. “I am not afraid of a little man like you. Perhaps one day your scalp will decorate my war lance!” He looked down at the gun. “Go ahead and pull the trigger, little man. My people will know that I was unarmed and was murdered. You will start an uprising, and before it is over, every soldier at Standing Rock will be dead, including you. There are six thousand Sioux on this reservation, and only a few hundred soldiers. Remember that.”

  Desmond’s jaw flexed in anger. “And you and the rest of them had better remember what happened at Wounded Knee.”

  Fire came into Black Hawk’s eyes. “I remember it all very well,” he answered, his voice a low growl. He enjoyed the fear he saw in Desmond’s eyes.

  “Get moving,” the sergeant ordered.

  Black Hawk walked past the man and into the bright sunlight, covering his eyes for a moment until they could adjust. He breathed deeply of the fresh air. He was free again, at least as free as a man could be when he was forced to stay on a certain piece of land and forbidden to go beyond it. He couldn’t wait to see his son again… and Otter Woman. She would be very sorry for what she had done!

  “Hello, Evy.” Anita Wolf stepped closer to Evelyn, who was sitting up in bed reading some old newspapers that had been shipped to Reverend Phillips from Omaha. “It is good to see you looking so well.”

  Evelyn laid the papers aside. “I think the infection affected me much more than the wound itself. Now that that has cleared up, I’m feeling very good. I intend to get out of this bed tomorrow and be human again, although it will probably be a while before I can fully use my left arm.”

  Anita pulled up a chair. “You should not get up too soon. Give yourself a few more days to heal well. Can you raise your arm yet?”

  Evelyn thought how pretty Anita looked today. She wore a nicely fitted, green cotton dress, and her dark hair was braided and twisted neatly on top of her head. Her creamy, dark complexion was flawless, her smile bright. Considering how the reverend had treated her at the dance three weeks ago, she was surprised the woman was still friendly to her, since John Phillips had done nothing but lament that Evelyn was not there. “A little,” she replied. “I have been exercising it as much as I can. The only thing I haven’t been brave enough to do is look at myself and see what kind of scar has been left.”

  Anita’s eyes saddened. “You are so beautiful. It is too bad that there will be any kind of scar, but at least it is in a place that no one will see.”

  Evelyn felt embarrassed at realizing just how many people had seen the scar… and more. Probably the reverend, certainly the Army doctor… and Black Hawk. The thought of his hands on her, his eyes seeing things that were private, brought warm feelings of passion, feelings that were surely forbidden. “No one but my husband, if I ever find a man willing to put up with me,” she answered with a bashful smile.

  Anita blushed, and Evelyn suspected she was thinking about the reverend.

  “How are things at the school, Anita?”

  “Fine. Janine and I are doing the teaching. My people think you are very brave to have gone out alone to teach Black Hawk and Little Fox. They respect you for it, but they are upset with the soldiers and Agent McLaughlin for having Black Hawk arrested when he did nothing wrong. I thought you should know… they have finally freed Black Hawk.”

  Evelyn closed her eyes for a moment, breathing a silent pryer of thanksgiving. “Oh, I’m so glad. I just worry this has set everything back. I can’t go out to him now, and he’ll never come here.”

  “I think in time he will come. You have opened his eyes to new things.” She studied Evelyn questioningly. “You went to him… because of your dreams, didn’t you?” she asked cautiously.

  Evelyn knew there was no sense hiding anything more from Anita, who was almost as discerning as Black Hawk and old Night Hunter. “Yes.” Her eyes suddenly teared. “If you want the truth, Anita… I have very deep feelings for Black Hawk and I don’t know what to do about it.”

  Anita nodded in understanding. “So like my feelings for Reverend Phillips. I fear it is wrong, so I am afraid to tell him.”

  Evelyn moved to sit up a little straighter. “I know it sounds terribly prejudiced, Anita, but it’s almost worse for me. It is not so uncommon for a white man to marry an Indian woman, but for a white woman to love an Indian man… it’s so unacceptable to society. I just don’t know what to do.”

  Anita smiled softly. “You told me that your mother said to always follow your heart. I think you should do whatever the spirits guide you to do.”

  “It isn’t me that I care about. It’s Black Hawk. I don’t want to get him into any more trouble.” She studied Anita’s dark eyes. “You mustn’t say anything to anyone else about this.”

  Anita shook her head. “I will say nothing. I am just sorry and embarrassed that someone from my people did this terrible thing to you. There are rumors that it might have been Otter Woman. Everyone knows she is jealous and possessive. She favors Black Hawk, gives herself to him whenever he has the need.”

  A burning jealousy surged in Evelyn’s soul. She did not like to feel hatred toward anyone, but she could not help feeling it for Otter Woman. She could only pray Black Hawk would not bring harm to the woman. Not that she minded so much for Otter Woman, but she did not want Black Hawk to get into any more trouble. “There is no way to prove who did it,” she answered. “I am sure there are any number of your people who would like to see me dead—me and Janine and the reverend… the soldiers… all of us. I don’t blame them, and I am not going to let this keep me from going back out there and doing what I must do.”

  “It is good you do not let them stop you or frighten you away. When they see you have not given up, they will have even more respect for you. I think more will send their children to the school.”

  Before Anita co
uld go on, Reverend Phillips announced his presence outside the doorway curtain. “Good afternoon, Miss Gibbons. May I come inside?”

  Evelyn glanced at Anita. She saw the woman was immediately flustered. “Thank you for understanding about Black Hawk,” she told Anita in a near whisper. “I have to be able to tell someone, and you are the only one who would understand my predicament.” She glanced at the doorway. “Come in, Reverend.”

  The man moved inside, holding a bouquet of wildflowers in his hand. “Well, isn’t it amazing what forty-eight hours can do! When I left for the fort, you looked pretty sorry, I must say. Today you look almost like your old self.” He handed out the flowers. “These are for you, along with prayers for a very speedy recovery. And I thought you would like to know that Black Hawk has been set free.”

  The man hardly seemed to notice Anita was in the room, and Evelyn could see the disappointment in the woman’s eyes. She wished he had brought the flowers for Anita, not for her. “Thank you, Reverend. Did you see Black Hawk? Is he all right?”

  The man frowned, finally turning to Anita and nodding to her. “You look lovely today, Anita.”

  “Thank you, Reverend,” she answered shyly.

  The man turned back to Evelyn. “He was still bruised from the beating the soldiers gave him, but overall he was in fine shape. He was warned by Agent McLaughlin to stay out of trouble and to keep away from you, after which he got on his horse and rode like a demon. I am sure the first thing he will do is go and get his son. I would not be surprised if none of us saw him again between now and next spring. It’s too bad. I know you were making progress with him, but perhaps you will understand now that there are some of these people who you just have to stay away from. To try too hard to go after them will only cause trouble, Evelyn. Just do your teaching and let them come to you.”

  “Excuse me, Reverend,” Anita said, rising from her chair. “I must get back to help Janine. I only wanted to see how Evy was doing today.” She smiled and patted Evelyn’s arm. “The children are anxious for you to come back to school. I told them perhaps in four or five more days.”