“Little Beaver, wait, you didn’t kiss Asha,” Rosa protested.
“Rosa, go to bed,” Asha insisted, her cheeks flushing.
“Not till he kisses you too, Asha.” Her wide eyes looked up at both of them innocently.
Little Beaver shifted from one foot to another. The idea of kissing her must be repulsive.
“Little Beaver, you have to kiss Asha. I heard her crying in her room last night. She didn’t know I was listening. I think she misses her mama.” The little girl nodded to herself. “A kiss always makes me feel better.”
Asha wished the ground would open or she would disappear into the clouds. She was mortified and it was obvious Little Beaver was uncomfortable too.
She raised her head just as he leaned in. Instinctively she tilted her head but instead of avoiding him, his kiss landed on her lips.
“Yay, Mr. Samuel kisses Miss Ellen like that. It makes her real happy. Aren’t you happy now, Asha?”
“Yes, Asha, answer the girl. Are you happy?” Little Beaver’s eyes twinkled.
Mortified, Asha mumbled something as she pushed Little Beaver toward the door. Dragging Rosa by the hand she headed for the stairs. “You won’t cry tonight now, Asha. You will be real happy. Little Beaver kisses real nice don’t he?”
“Yes, Little Raven, real nice.”
Later that night, something woke Asha. She looked outside. Little Beaver was playing the flute. Asha sat by the window listening to the haunting melody, memories from happier days clouding her brain. How she missed being a child. Running around like Rosa without a care in the world. She listened closely as the brave told a story with his music. He spoke of love and longing, forgiveness and redemption.
Was he just amusing the children as he often did or was he trying to tell her something. It was custom for a man to play a flute for the maiden he wanted to marry but she was no maiden. Was he making fun of her? No he wouldn’t do that. He may be arrogant, stubborn and have too much pride, but he was not and never had been spiteful. Even as children, he had been her protector. Her champion. Her father had indulged her, his favorite child. He had spent time training her in how to shoot, hunt, track and do everything else a boy would do. The other children teased her saying she would grow into a man. If only she had, she wouldn’t be in this situation now.
Little Beaver had never joined in the teasing. Instead, he told everyone that her father was right. They lived in dangerous times and everyone including the women and children should know how to defend their village. People hadn’t listened. Their men had fought bravely against the army but the white man had superior weapons and more men. It was only a matter of time before the people were rounded up like animals and penned in.
Asha moved away from the window. She didn’t want to think about what could have been. It was too painful. She was living the reality. Whatever his reason for playing the flute this evening, it had served a purpose. She was reminded of her position as daughter of a chief. One day she would take her revenge on those who had abused her people.
Chapter 20
Nandita came to visit the orphanage as often as she could but she was busy caring for Laura and looking after other patients referred by Mrs. Grey or the doc. Asha enjoyed her visits, not least because she was able to converse in her native tongue. Nandita educated her too. Her friend was happy in the world of the white man. Not everything was perfect but most people were kind to her. She had a wonderful husband and a lovely family. She spoke to Asha about the baby trying to convince her to keep it but she couldn’t change her mind.
“Wilma, you know Asha is determined to leave the child here when it’s born.”
“She done tole me. What I don’t understand is why she would leave an Indian child here. It would be better with its own people.”
“It is not our way. A girl cannot have a baby without a husband. It is not done. The tribe will never forgive her or the child.”
“She couldn’t help what happened. Funny how that don’t matter be you white, black or Indian. The woman always pays the price even when it wasn’t her fault.”
Nandita didn’t say anything.
“What will she do after the baby is born? She only tole me she was going home. But you said she wouldn’t be welcome. Does she not understand?”
Nandita shook her head sadly. “Asha understands the ways of our people. We are taught from babes how we are expected to behave. She hopes her father will change his mind. By all accounts, he indulged her a lot when she was growing up. She hopes his love for her will overcome what has happened.”
“Is that likely?”
“No. Her father is weak and there are many who say he is no longer fit to rule. The white man has taken away everything. He couldn’t risk other people turning their backs on him. He knows to survive our people have to act as one.”
“The poor child. What will she do?”
“Kill the man who did this and then go to the mountains if she can.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
Wilma stood up and busied herself around the kitchen. “I ain't no Indian and I know I don't fully understand your ways but that is downright stupid. Isn’t it enough the white man abuses her without her own turning their back on her too. I is sorry, Nandita, but I ain’t going to let that girl go. She has a home now and a family if she wants one. She will be safe here.”
Nandita rose and gave Wilma a quick hug. “If you were an Indian you would be a fierce warrior, my friend. I do not agree with my people either but I do respect Asha’s right to make her own decision.”
“She can make her own mind up so long as she decides to live here,” Wilma muttered as she started banging pots around. Dinner had to be made before the children came home from school. Keeping busy was a good way to burn off the anger consuming her. When would the world change and stop blaming innocent people for the sins of others. And they expect me to believe in a God who lets this happen. Humph.
“Don't let the angry spirits take over your soul, Wilma. It won’t help anyone. I best get back. Frank will think I got lost. I promised him fresh bread for supper.”
“Here, you take this with you. I made it this morning. Kneading dough is just what I need to work off those angry spirits you talk about.”
“Thank you, Wilma. You take care of yourself now.”
Nandita left. Wilma’s mind was still racing when Asha came into the kitchen some time later.
“Asha, would you like to get out of the house for a while? I thought we could take a drive later.”
“I would love but it danger,” Asha said in her broken English. “Ellen said no leave.”
“If it’s dark, nobody will see you. I need some fresh air and imagine you do too.”
“Yes, please.”
Asha’s smile helped diffuse some of Wilma’s anger. She couldn’t imagine what it was like to be cooped up inside all day when you were used to being in the open much of the time. She may have lived on the reservation but at least there she had people to talk to. She must get mighty lonely. Wilma resolved to start teaching her English. If she was going to make her home in Clover Springs, she needed to know how to speak to their neighbors. Because she wasn’t leaving. Wilma wouldn’t let that happen.
Chapter 21
Wilma helped Asha up onto the wagon seat. “Put this over your head, just till we get out of town. We don’t want anyone seeing you.”
Asha did as she was told. Wilma took up the reins and soon they were out of Clover Springs heading for the Sullivan ranch.
“You can sit up now. It’s all clear,” Wilma said, her breath making steam in the air.
“It is so beautiful. Look at stars.”
Wilma looked into the clear night. The lack of clouds made it feel colder than it was. She shivered into her blanket. Hope this is worth it.
“Where we go?” Asha asked looking around her.
“I thought we would visit some of my friends. The place you came to first. You remember?”
“Lady had nice food.”
Wilma grinned. Mrs. H’s food was so good, it didn’t matter what race you were. Everyone appreciated it.
“I am sure she will have some pie ready for you.”
Asha stayed quiet for a while. Wilma sensed the girl was thinking so she stayed silent too.
“Wilma, why you live in this town? Don’t you miss people like you?”
“I love living in Clover Springs. The people are wonderful and are just like you and me on the inside. It doesn’t matter what our outside looks like, Asha. We are all individuals.”
“You mean not the same.”
“Yes, just like there are some Indians you might not like, there are some of my people I would not want to share a pie with.”
“But white people do not accept us?”
“The good white folk do. The ones I want to share pie with. The rest can go eat somewhere else. I do not care about them. I would not let someone who doesn’t accept me tell me where to live.”
Asha’s face was all screwed up, no doubt she was thinking about what Wilma had said.
“I came to live here after Miss Laura did. You know the lady with the new baby?”
Asha nodded.
“Well, she is like my own child and I wanted to be near her. There was trouble back where we used to live so I came here to be safe. And I am. Just like you could be too if you stay with us.”
“And live in hiding so nobody sees me. That is not how I want to live my life.”
Asha’s rage was barely contained. Wilma sensed she needed to be careful.
“Asha, if you return to the reservation, what kind of life can you hope for?”
Asha didn’t reply.
“Do you think your people will welcome you back?”
A tear escaped Asha’s eye but Wilma pretended not to notice.
“Come on girl, talk to Wilma. You know I only want what is best for you.”
“No, you want me to keep baby. I cannot do that,” Asha snarled.
Wilma counted to ten. She needed to stay calm when all she wanted to do was shake some sense into the girl by her side. Dreaming of a better life was one thing but walking back into hell was a totally different story.
“Asha, I don’t mean to hurt you. But you got to see things the way they are. Nandita said your people will not let you forget. Baby or no baby.”
Asha’s head hung on her chest. Wilma held the reins in one hand and wrapped her arm around the young girl.
“What you have been through isn’t right. To be punished for something you couldn’t help is wrong too. But you have to see. Staying here in Clover Springs may be your best option.”
Asha shrugged Wilma's arm off. “I know you are trying to help me. But I will go back. When I do, I will kill the man who did this. Then if my father will not accept me, I will run to the mountains. There are some Indians still free.”
Wilma drew the wagon to a halt.
“Now you listen to me and you listen good. You are not joining the dog soldiers. We both know what they are doing is wrong. Killing innocent white folks is not the answer.”
“Our people are dying. They avenge them.” Despite Asha’s harsh words, her eyes didn’t meet Wilma’s.
“Killing is never right Asha. You are better than that. Anyway, would these dog soldiers accept you?”
“I don’t know. I can try. I will not live in prison even if it is nice house with kind people. I will be free.”
Wilma couldn’t say anything to that. She had done a lot of things she wasn’t proud of in order to secure her own freedom. She’d be a hypocrite if she didn’t understand what it meant to Asha. Still there had to be a better way.
She clicked her tongue and the horses started again.
“Not far now. Don’t know about you, but I is dying for a cup of hot coffee. These November nights are pretty but it’s too cold for this old lady.”
The remainder of the journey passed in silence.
Wilma parked in front of the Sullivan house. “Come on, Asha, let’s go and see what pie Mrs. H. got for us.”
Wilma walked into the house with Asha following behind.
“Sorry it’s so late Miss Mary, but we got a craving for some of Mrs. H’s apple pie.”
“Come in, Wilma, Asha. Sit down and have some coffee. You both look frozen. Mrs. H made cherry pie tonight but it’s good. Do you want cream with yours?”
“Yes, please, Miss Mary. Asha will too,” Wilma added as the girl seemed to have been struck dumb.
Mrs. H leaned back in her chair. “What’s new in town, Wilma? I must take a trip in to get ready for Thanksgiving.”
“Ma, you been ready for Thanksgiving for weeks now. You just want to go shopping,” Aaron said, smiling widely to show he was teasing.
Wilma caught the look he sent Asha. Hmm. Mr. Aaron needs a wife. Maybe that’s an answer?
The door opened and Little Beaver entered.
“Little Beaver, what you doing here? I thought you were in town.”
“Wilma, you know I told you earlier I was coming out here.”
“Did you, I must have forgotten.”
The other women exchanged looks, but Wilma plastered an innocent expression on her face. If she could get Little Beaver and Asha to spend some time together, then maybe they would find a way to put the past behind them.
Then again, if not, Aaron may be the answer.
Humming softy, Wilma stood up. “Mrs. H, I want to go see Laura, fancy keeping me company?”
With a twinkle in her eye, Mrs. H stood up.
“I go too?” Asha said moving closer to Wilma.
“No girl, you stay here and get warm. Can’t have you coming down with a chill. Nandita would have my hide.” Wilma turned to Little Beaver “Can you stay and translate for Asha. Her English is improving but it still needs work. We all know how Miss Mary likes to talk.”
More laughter greeted her words as Mary blushed.
“Go on, out with you now before I forget I love you,” Mary said pretending to push the older women out the door. “Give Laura my love and tell her I will see her tomorrow.”
“You’re matchmaking again, Wilma. You can’t just assume because they are both Indians they are going to fall in love,” Mrs. H chided her as they walked the short path to Laura’s house.
“Nandita told me they were sweethearts. Before all the trouble. I’m just giving them a nudge.”
Mrs. Higgins laughed. “A nudge. A shove is more like it. Just remember, Wilma, I like being single. Don’t you ever try matchmaking for me.”
“Now there’s an idea…” Wilma teased her friend. She missed being out on the ranch.
Laura was sitting by the fire nursing Victoria when they called. Mrs. H had brought a pie with her so Wilma made coffee while Laura finished up.
“It is lovely to see you but if you are fussing over me, Wilma, I am fine.”
‘She’s not fussing, Miss Laura. She is matchmaking again.”
“Really?” Laura’s face lit up. “Just let me put Victoria down in her cot. I don’t want to miss a bit of this. Who is it? Not Aaron and Miss Hawthorn?”
“Over my dead body,” Mrs. H blurted out before putting a hand over her mouth. “May the Lord forgive me. That wasn’t charitable.”
“Maybe, but I thought your God wanted you to tell the truth.” Wilma’s eyes twinkled.
“Don’t start that again. He is your God too. I heard you praying remember,” Mrs. H started before Laura interrupted.
“Come on, tell me. Who is the lucky couple?”
Wilma sat back in her chair.
“It’s Little Beaver.”
“Really? Isn’t he a little young?” Laura said looking confused.
“Not in his culture. He should be married with a passel of children by now.”
“So, who is the lucky woman? Can’t imagine many people around here agreeing to their daughter marrying an Indian.” Laura took a quick drink. “Don’t you glower at me. I didn’t say I agr
eed, Wilma. Just it’s the way the world works.”
“When you were sick, a friend of Nandita’s stayed here for a few days. Well, Nandita didn’t really know her. She ran away from the reservation and came looking for her.”
“Why did she run away? Won’t they just come looking for her and bring her back?” Laura asked, her mouth full of pie.
“Miss Laura, where’s your manners. You don’t talk with your mouth full.”
“Sorry, Wilma.”
“Asha, the young girl was hurt. She won’t tell us by whom. She is having a baby.”
“She wants Nandita to help her have the baby? I know Nandita is wonderful but surely there are many women on the reservation with knowledge of childbirth.” Laura looked up from her pie. “Is this the girl you have in mind for Little Beaver? Sorry, I am a bit confused. Why would he want to marry a girl who is having another man’s baby?”
“He loves her. She was his sweetheart but her father wouldn’t agree to the match. She loves him too although she won’t admit it.”
“A bit like Ellen and Samuel, well without the baby part.” Laura’s eyes were shining.
“Wilma has the girl up in my kitchen with Little Beaver now. Judging by the look on the girl’s face when we were leaving, I think Wilma may be in for a chastising on her way home.”
“Oh, Wilma, you are such a romantic at heart.” Laura gave Wilma a hug.
“Nothing romantic about it. The girl needs a home, the baby needs a pa. Little Beaver needs a wife. It’s practical.”
Mrs. H and Laura laughed until the tears fell down their faces. “Practical. Now that’s a new name for it,” Laura said giggling.
Mrs. H was the first to recover. “Seriously, Wilma, I know your heart is in the right place but do you think it’s right to raise their hopes? They are so young.”
“Why not?” Laura asked looking from one to the other.
“Would Little Beaver be allowed to live in Clover Springs with an Indian wife and baby. Would he not be forced to return to the reservation with them?”
Mrs. H had brought out Wilma’s greatest fears.
Thanksgiving In Clover Springs Page 7
