Wilma smiled and did as she was told. Mrs. Grey exchanged a glance with Mrs. H. “Make sure she rests. Laura and her baby owe her their lives.”
Taking a deep breath, Mrs. Grey knocked on the bedroom door before going in to check on her patients. Nandita, wherever you are, please come quickly. If she had time to think, she may have smiled at the idea of her praying for an Indian to ride to their rescue. There had been a time when she distrusted Indians. But she had seen for herself how Nandita's natural remedies had worked on some difficult cases. Maybe she has some way to help Laura.
Chapter 6
Little Beaver pushed the horse as fast as he dared. Nandita was his stepmother but she was much more than that. He loved her like an older sister. She had protected him over and over again when his father Sleeping Bear had taken her for a wife. He’d lost count of the times she had stood in front of him when his father was lashing out with his fists. Her study of medicine had begun partly because of his father. His temper was legendary, but it was only his family who knew of the severe headaches that caused it. Nandita had tried to find a cure not only to help the man but also his family who suffered violence at his hands.
He had a good idea of the route Nandita would take back to the Petersen homestead from the reservation. He spoke gently to his horse praying for another lady who had been so nice to him. Miss Laura had never treated him differently. He felt a responsibility for her. He had played a part in saving her from Coleman and his gang. He scowled. He hadn’t risked his life just to let her die now. Nandita would be able to help her. The medicine man had taught her many things despite her being a girl. He had seen her thirst for knowledge and knowing the precarious future in store for their tribe, the more people who knew how to treat ailments the better.
Little Beaver didn’t like thinking of the past. It was too painful. He didn’t miss his father who had been a hard controlling bully, he missed the companionship of the rest of his tribe. His mother’s sweet smile and her soft praise on his accomplishments. The competitiveness between the boys over who would win their first coup. The maidens… He consciously stopped that train of thought. It was pointless.
The time passed as he rode the trail he assumed Nandita would use. He couldn’t imagine what Paul Kelley was feeling. The pain of losing Asha was bad enough, but he didn’t have to watch her die. Paul could lose his wife and child. He spurred the horse on faster. Nandita knew a lot of healing but would she be able to help?
Nandita was a strong woman. She had suffered at the hands of her husband yet was able to make a good match with Frank. If he could find Asha, maybe they could get over the past too.
If only her father had agreed to his courtship. Everything would be different now. Asha wouldn’t be an exile. But if her father had agreed, how would they have lived? He couldn’t give up his freedom to settle on a reservation. He enjoyed his role as deputy sheriff and couldn’t imagine sitting around all day with little to do. She lived there and wouldn’t be allowed to leave even if they were to marry. Deputy sheriff or not, as far as the army was concerned, he was a savage and should be locked up.
He wondered what life was like at the reservation. It had been bad during the drought of the summer. He guessed there would be more food shortages. He had brought food and other gifts several times but on the last couple of occasions Asha hadn’t been around.
A yellow haired, blue eyed soldier had given him trouble and told him to stay clear of the reservation. He would have visited it anyway but he didn’t want to make more trouble for his people. You prefer to stay away. The voice in his head ridiculed him. He’d never forget the day a girl he knew, who once had feelings for him, had told him Asha’s father wished to speak to him. He had raced to his lodge, his chest full of hope, but the old Chief had changed his mind. He had left the lodge with his dreams in tatters.
Asha and he had been close once. Back in the old days when her tribe came to visit, they had spent endless summer days together swimming in the creek and tracking animals. Her father had taught her the skills a brave would learn. He never admitted it but it took him all his senses to best her when they competed. He couldn’t be beaten by a girl. The other braves would never have let him forget that. How could the spirited girl he knew have turned traitor?
He could have hit any one of the soldiers in revenge for what he had been told. But somehow he kept his temper. His people had told him stories of the treatment reserved for those who broke the captain’s rules. The soldiers would kill him for striking a white man. He didn’t care about that. But they would treat his people worse than ever. He had to leave. His presence on the reservation endangered those he loved. Even if the girl who owned his heart had betrayed him in the worst possible way.
Little Beaver heard Frank’s voice as it carried on the wind. His family was up ahead. Urging his horse ahead he called out to her.
“Nandita, Frank.”
“Little Beaver, what’s wrong? Is it the children?” Frank’s face creased with worry.
“No, they are fine. It’s Miss Laura. Her baby came… Mrs. Grey she needs you Nandita. You have to come now. You have to save Miss Laura.”
“Go with him. I will follow you.” Frank leaned closer to his wife. “I will mind the girl. Our friends need you more.”
Little Beaver couldn’t understand why Nandita hesitated.
“We go now,” He ordered as he held the reins of the spare horse he had brought to her.
Nandita jumped down from the wagon. Glancing in the back of the wagon, she nodded to Frank before mounting the horse. They didn’t speak on the ride back as they pushed their mounts to get there as quickly as possible.
Chapter 7
Nandita slipped off her horse almost before it had stopped. Rushing toward Laura’s house, she was dismayed by the downcast faces of all those who had grown dear to her over the last few years.
“She is gone?” She whispered to Davy.
“No, but it’s not looking good. Aaron went for the doc but he’s gone out on another call. Emer doesn’t know when he will be back.” Davy twisted his hat in his hands, the continuous motion distracting Nandita. She put her hand on his arm.
“Believe. Stop your mind thinking bad things. We do not want to attract bad spirits tonight.”
She left Davy staring after her as she moved to the door. The others standing outside made room for her. Nobody spoke. She could hear muttering from inside. It sounded like chanting. Mary must be leading them in her prayers. Nandita had sat through prayer sessions before. She believed the God Mary and her friends prayed to was the same as The Great Spirit. Praying was a good thing but not in Laura’s hearing. The woman wouldn’t fight if she believed everyone else had given up. Opening the front door, she moved to the sink where she washed her hands with soap and hot water. Mrs. Grey noticed her, the relief on her face palpable.
Please, oh Great Spirit, let me help my friends.
“Nandita, I am so glad you are here. Laura…” Mrs. Grey took a deep breath. “She is fading fast. I don’t know what else to do.”
“Stop them praying aloud. She needs to know we believe she will be fine. If they must pray, tell them to take it up to the big house.”
Mrs. Grey looked shocked but Nandita held her gaze. She waited until the older woman moved toward the group before making her way into the bedroom. Wilma was at one side of the bed while Paul Kelley was at the other, his head bowed close to his wife as he begged her not to leave him.
Nandita nodded to Wilma before looking pointedly at Paul. It was best he was not in the room. Wilma took the hint, squeezing Nandita’s arm in encouragement as she passed by her to take Paul’s arm. She led him firmly out of the room despite his protests.
Nandita checked her patient, all the while speaking in her native tongue. It wouldn’t matter if Laura couldn’t understand her. As Nandita continued, she stripped off the bedding assessing Laura thoroughly. Leaving her alone for a minute, she passed quickly through the kitchen going outside to call Litt
le Beaver. Quickly, she gave him instructions to go to her house and get her some papoose root. She had gathered stems and roots during the summer to dry and grind into powder. It would help with the pain and also help prevent infection. Returning, she motioned to Wilma to follow her to the bedroom.
“She has lost a lot of blood,” Nandita stated.
Wilma nodded her ascent, wiping a tear from her face. Nandita took the other woman’s hand.
“Please have faith. Between the prayers our friends are making and the interaction of our Great Spirit, we may be allowed to keep her a little while longer. But if her spirit wishes to move to the next world, we shouldn’t stop her.”
Wilma shrank back. “She can’t leave us. I won’t let her. She is needed here. Victoria and Paul will be lost without her.”
“Victoria? Ah the new baby. She is well?”
A smile creased Wilma’s face. “She is weak but Mrs. Grey thinks she will be fine.” The smile faded. “Little girls need their mama.”
Nandita didn’t comment. She was concentrating on Laura’s breathing, wishing Little Beaver would hurry back. As soon as he came into the house, she asked him to take Paul, Mary and everyone else back to the main house leaving the baby behind with Mrs. Grey and Wilma. Laura would need their combined skills and knowledge.
While Mrs. Grey kept her emotions in check, Wilma became more upset. Nandita knew she would have to leave sensing Laura would be distressed by her friend’s tears. At first Wilma refused.
“She’s like my own child, I can’t leave her.”
“It’s best for Laura and I need your help. I have to help Laura but I have…” Nandita faltered. She knew she would trust Wilma but she didn’t want to get her into trouble.
“What you need? Tell Wilma.”
“Go to Frank. He is in the barn. He has a young girl with him.”
“A girl? What she doing in the barn. It’s cold out there. She should be in the house.” Wilma momentarily forgot they were in a sick room as her concern for the girl raised her voice.
“Wilma, the girl is a runaway.”
“A slave? But there ain't any more slaves. Mister Lincoln done free…”
“An Indian,” Nandita hissed, wanting Wilma to leave so she could look after her patient. She looked to Mrs. Grey for help.
“Wilma, go help Frank. The girl must be frightened and you are best to deal with her. I shall only scare her.”
“That be true Mrs. Grey. You look real scary when you frown like that. I is going, I is going,” Wilma yelped as Mrs. Grey took her by the arm and almost forced her out the door.
“Look after Miss Laura for me won’t you?” Wilma’s whispered plea wrenched Nandita’s heart.
“We will, dear, now go on, get.” Mrs. Grey gave Wilma a quick hug before closing the door behind her.
Chapter 8
Wilma walked slowly to the barn, her cheeks wet with tears. She couldn’t bear the thoughts of losing Laura. Why would you punish that girl again? Hasn’t she been through enough. In her head she was shouting but she didn’t utter a word. It wouldn’t do anyone any good to find her screaming at God.
Before pushing the tall double doors open, she leaned against the rough wood. Tiredness she could handle but this weariness was something new. Breathing in the familiar smell of horses and hay, she took a few seconds for herself. She had to gather her strength and courage. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see her tears. She wanted to go find somewhere to hide to give full vent to her grief but that was selfish. Nandita was helping Laura. It was only right she help the girl.
She pushed the barn door open, startling a cat who hissed at her. Frank jumped warily to his feet.
“Nandita sent me.”
“How’s Miss Laura?” Frank asked.
“Better now your wife is here. She said you had a girl with you. Needs help,” She choked out, her tears outside the barn making her voice croaky.
Frank gave her a curious look before walking to the rear of the barn. Wilma gasped at the sight of a young girl lying on the straw. Someone, probably Frank, had covered her with a blanket.
Wilma knelt by the girl, who shrank back from her.
“You be fine child. You is safe now.” Wilma reached out to take the girl’s hand in hers. With her other hand pointing to her chest, she said “My name is Wilma.”
“Wilma,” repeated the girl.
“Can I have a look?” Wilma moved closer to the girl. This time she didn’t move away. Instead, she let Wilma examine her but winced when she touched her side. Wilma rolled up her tunic revealing numerous injuries. Her mouth tightened as she noted some old scars but also fresh cuts and bruises. One particularly nasty gash on her lower leg was already infected, the redness swelling around the deep cut. Sweet God almighty. What has this poor girl been through?
Wilma continued, gently examining all areas of the girl’s body. She guessed she was at least seven months pregnant. Given her youth it was hard to be exact. She knew the Indians married young but sensed given the signs of abuse and overall state of the girl, she hadn’t endured this treatment at the hands of her husband. From what little she knew of Indian culture it wasn’t tolerated for a brave to treat his woman so badly. Wilma found it ironic those people who some whites considered savages had more progressive rules. A woman could divorce her husband. Pity some white women didn’t have that recourse. She may not have encountered so many fallen girls over the course of her lifetime if they had the freedom to leave their abusers. She dismissed her thoughts. It wasn’t time to focus on the past. This girl needed help. She couldn’t go back to the reservation in her current state.
Frank had turned his back as the examination progressed.
“Your baby will be here in a few weeks. Just in time for Christmas,” Wilma said, trying to instill enthusiasm into her voice. The girl just looked at her blankly.
“You lie back and rest for a minute. I am going to speak to Frank.” Wilma gestured as she talked, trying to make herself understood.
She moved toward Frank, lowering her voice to a whisper.
“Frank, where did you find her? She been badly abused.”
“Out in the bush on the way back.”
“She would be warmer in the kitchen.”
“Nandita didn’t want to bring her in the house. The soldiers may be following us. Bad things happening at the reservation. People is starving over there Wilma. Ain’t seen people that thin since… Well, way back.”
The veiled reference to their shared slave background illuminated his point more than words could. Wilma looked back to the girl, although she could barely see through her tears. How many young girls had she nursed through similar abuse when she’d been on the plantation. She’d lost count.
“Can you go up to the house and get me some warm water. Ask Mrs. Higgins to heat up some of her chicken soup. She will be glad to be doing something useful.”
“I can’t tell Mrs. Higgins. Nandita will kill me,” Frank muttered.
“Nandita is too busy to notice. We need help. Miss Laura may die. I ain't going to let this one go too,” Wilma said fiercely. “Go on now. I’ll handle Nandita.”
Chapter 9
Frank moved toward the house, his mutterings enough to tell Wilma he wasn’t happy being ordered around. She turned to the girl. “We need to get that dirt off before we treat your injuries.”
The girl looked at her blankly.
Wilma wished Little Beaver or Nandita were here so she could communicate properly with the girl, although they may not speak the same language either. She had to make her understand she was safe and they were going to help her. She needed to get the large gash cleaned before she could treat the infection.
The barn door squeaked as it opened. The girl’s whole body shook, as she backed away, looking around her frantically as if trying to find a place to hide. Wilma took her hand, patting it. She tried to reassure her.
“Mrs. H has brought some food. It’s good. You need to eat.” Wilma mimed the motion of
eating but the girl’s eyes were transfixed on Mrs. H.
“What on earth happened to her, she looks like she took a mud bath.” Mrs. H’s attempt to sound jolly didn’t work. She looked as anxious and upset as Wilma was feeling.
Mrs. Higgins set the tray of food down beside Asha. The smell of freshly made coffee was enough to make Wilma’s mouth water. She didn’t have time to drink now. The poor girl was trying to back her way through the barn wall. Mrs. Higgins was talking to her but the girl obviously couldn’t follow her.
“Thanks, Mrs. H. I’ll take over now,” Wilma said firmly.
“No, you won’t. You are fit to fall over. You ain't stopped since this time two-night past.”
Was it that long? Wilma didn’t want to think about it. So far she had kept the tiredness at bay.
“Tell her I am a friend too. I will help you bathe her. It will be faster. I’ll just go tell Frank to find Aaron and the both of them will set up the bath in here. I’ll put more water boiling on the stove.”
Wilma nodded. She was too tired to argue and it would be easier to give the girl a real bath. They hadn’t anticipated the girl’s horror. When the bath arrived, she started shrieking. The noise brought Little Beaver running.
He came to a standstill. Wilma could rarely read the brave’s face. It was usually impossible to know what he was thinking but not tonight. The look of shock mixed with pain made her tear up. He knows her.
“Is she your friend?” Wilma whispered.
“I do not know her. Why is she here?”
This time it was Wilma’s turn to look shocked. She had never known the brave to lie before. Yet she was certain he had recognized the girl.
“Nandita brought her here. She found her out in the bush. She has been injured and is starving. We need to wash her to check the extent of her injuries. Not to mention get rid of the smell.”
Thanksgiving In Clover Springs Page 3
