Tame the Wild Wind

by Rosanne Bittner

  Suddenly he felt older. He left with the crewmen, bewildered by their casual manner, hoping they had made some kind of mistake. It was true that it was not like Alex to stay up top away from Yellow Beaver so long after dark. Blindly he stumbled over other passengers, followed the men to the upper deck to where a crowd had gathered. The men ordered others out of the way, then held the lantern over someone who lay on his back, his green eyes still open.

  “Found him near the stairwell going belowdecks, lying facedown, stabbed in the back,” one of the men told Gabe. “I remember he wore a money belt. It’s gone. Could be the robbers swam away with it. That is him, ain’t it? Your pa?”

  Gabe wondered if the pain in his chest would kill him, too. The tears came suddenly and uncontrollably. He fell to his knees, leaning down and weeping at his father’s chest, where there was no longer a heartbeat. This couldn’t be happening. Only this morning Alex had given him the treasured bear-claw necklace.

  Someone pulled him off the body. “Well, we know who he is now. Take him back down to the hole and get this body into a coffin before it begins to stink. Is Haley working on the damn box?”

  “It will be ready shortly,” came another voice.

  Gabriel was dragged toward the stairs leading down to the lower decks. He tried to fight off the hands, angry, hurt, confused, full of grief. He didn’t want to leave his father lying there dead like that. And who had done this? He needed to find the killer.

  But they took him back to his mother. At the sight of Gabriel’s face, Yellow Beaver broke out in the keening wail, the way she’d wept when she’d lost her little babies, and quickly others belowdecks began shouting for her to shut up so they could sleep. She continued her crying mixed with a song of mourning, until a man came over and grabbed her arm.

  “Shut up, squaw, the rest of us are trying to sleep.”

  Young Gabriel, who had sobbed quietly beside his mother, kicked at the man’s arm. “You leave my mother alone!” he growled.

  The man let go, grabbing Gabriel around the throat and pushing him against a stack of flour sacks. “Then you make her shut up!” he ordered. “You ain’t got your pa here to protect you now, so don’t be mouthin’ off, boy!”

  Finally the man left him alone and Gabriel’s thin shoulders jerked in deep sobs. The reality of how right the man was hit him then. He no longer had his father to protect him and teach him. There was only he and his mother now. He knelt beside Yellow Beaver, putting an arm around her. “You have to be quiet, mère. We will take our things off the boat at the next stop and sell what we need to sell to bury father. Then we can mourn. For now we must be strong. I promise that as soon as father is buried, we will go find Two Moccasins. Somehow we will do this. Perhaps we can find a scout, or a hunter, someone who can take us to them. We will go back to the Sioux.”

  Yellow Beaver began to weep quietly.

  Gabriel wanted to pray, but he was not sure to what God he should pray—the white people’s God or the God of his mother’s people. Suddenly, he hated the whites. They had killed his father, and they were treating him and Yellow Beaver as though their loss meant nothing. Now he wanted desperately to find his mother’s people. He would become a Sioux warrior and leave behind the white man’s world.

  Fiercely, Gabriel began to pray to Wakan-Tanka.

  Chapter Two

  1855…

  Faith wanted to cry with frustration. She simply could not understand why she had to sit for so long without uttering a word, without even raising her eyes and looking around. The latter command was impossible to keep, and she carefully cast sly, sidelong glances at those around her, all of whom had their heads bowed in silence.

  This was the time for quiet waiting, the time during worship when all those assembled closed their eyes and prayed to the Holy Spirit, asking for guidance, asking for whatever divine revelation the Spirit might wish to grant them, asking the Spirit to speak through them. It was a time of waiting, but she was not sure herself just what a child her age should be waiting for. She was only nine years old, and she did not understand who this Holy Spirit was, or what she should do if He spoke to her. So far she neither felt nor heard a thing, and the desire to squirm, to talk, to laugh and play, was next to unbearable.

  Then she heard it. Someone’s stomach growled fiercely. It was all she needed to give in to a need to giggle. She tried to stifle it at first, but to no avail. A muffled snicker turned into a louder giggle, and she was soon joined by her five-year-old brother, Benny. Faith’s laughter was cut off when her father grabbed her thigh and squeezed painfully. She knew the signal. She had behaved sinfully, and she would be reprimanded, which meant a paddling in the woodshed. Her mother quickly jerked Benny from where he’d been sitting to Faith’s right, and she plopped the boy to her own right, moving next to Faith.

  Faith felt the desire to laugh change quickly to a need to cry. It seemed every natural feeling she had was wrong, so that she hardly knew how she should behave anymore. Sometimes she felt like running away, but where would she go? She knew nothing about the world outside the little Quaker settlement where she lived, and she loved her mother and father. It would break their hearts if she left them. But sometimes she deeply resented all the rules they set for her.

  Finally a man began to speak, loudly proclaiming that the faithful must see that all men are treated equally. “We must speak out against the sinful practice of slavery,” he proclaimed.

  “Amen,” most replied in unison.

  “No man can own another. No man can treat another like cattle, breed another race like animals.”

  “Amen,” came the resounding reply again.

  “We must send our own people forth, bring Christianity to the Negroes and those who own them and persecute them.”

  Faith looked over at the man who spoke, and he seemed to have a kind of glow on his face, in his eyes. Was that a sign that the mysterious Holy Spirit had come into the man? Was it truly the Holy Spirit who was speaking now? That was what these others thought, for whenever someone spoke in these prayer meetings, it was the Quaker belief that the Holy Spirit was using him or her to give direction to the others.

  “By bringing Christianity to slave masters and the Negroes kept in bondage, we will be doing Christ’s bidding and perhaps save this country from war and strife. God surely will bring his wrath against this land if we allow slavery to continue.”

  “Hallelujah!” another man shouted.

  Now others began speaking. Faith listened curiously, wondering if the fact that the Holy Spirit had never spoken to her meant she was bad. Maybe because she had giggled during prayer, the Holy Spirit would never come to her. One thing was certain. Her father would punish her once the meeting was over. Benny would probably get away with a good scolding, because he was younger and still not of an age to truly understand. Her parents would say it was her fault Benny had erred. She had started laughing first, and she was a “big girl” now and should know better.

  Benny never got spanked for anything. He was the favored one. Something had “gone wrong” when he was born, and a real doctor had been brought in from nearby Johnstown. Her mother had cried at being told she would have no more children. Not only was Benny the last baby she would have, but he was a boy, a son for Matthew Kelley. Her father adored the boy, and sometimes Faith hated her brother. But she knew it really wasn’t his fault for being born. It was really her father she resented more than her brother, for showing his son more love and attention than he did to her.

  Her mother treated both of them equally, and Faith felt sorry for the fact that her mother would have no more children. She’d often caught her crying about it, and sometimes the woman would cry for reasons unknown. Faith had no idea where babies came from, and she wondered what had happened that her mother could have no more. Had she sinned in some way? Was she being punished by the Holy Spirit? She was not sure she even liked this Being called the Holy Spirit. It seemed to have considerable control over people’s lives, and she was
frightened by it.

  The spoken revelations went on for nearly two more hours in the rising heat of the day. The meeting was held outside, as usual, and flies bit at Faith’s neck and ankles, but she was afraid to swat at them for fear that, too, would be considered sinful. She had to relieve herself so badly that she was afraid she would wet herself before reaching the privy once they could leave. She wished there was a way to avoid a spanking, but she knew she’d not get out of it. Maybe her mother could help. Her mother seemed to be the only one who understood her energy, her desire to laugh and run and play. Just the other day they’d even swum naked together in a pond, something terribly forbidden, but it had felt so wonderful to be so totally free and cool and happy, to splash and laugh together. She would treasure the memory forever.

  Finally the service ended. Faith jumped up from the crate she’d used for a chair, in a hurry to get to the privy, but her father grabbed her arm. “You are coming straight to the woodshed, Faith Kelley!”

  “But, Father—”

  “No buts about it!”

  To Faith’s embarrassment the man half dragged her past the others, many of whom scowled at her. She could remember remarks she’d heard at other meetings.

  The child has too much spirit. She should be chastised for it.

  You must tame that girl, Sadie.

  Faith needs to learn respect for others and for the Holy Spirit, Mr. Kelley.

  Such a lovely child she is. You will have to be careful of that one. Do not let her become vain, and keep the young men away from her.

  Faith had no idea what “vain” meant, and she was certainly too young for anyone to be worrying about young men being interested in her. Nor did she have any interest in boys, except to hate most of them.

  All of this and more swam through her head as her father dragged her to the woodshed. “I couldn’t help it,” she tried to explain. “It’s hard to sit so long without talking or giggling, Father. I heard a woman’s stomach growl.”

  “For all you know, it was the Holy Spirit beginning to move within her,” he answered angrily.

  “In her belly? Why would it do that?”

  Matthew squeezed his daughter’s arm more tightly, knowing he was hurting her, yet unable to control his anger. “You are being insulting now. One must never joke about the Holy Spirit, Faith! And one must certainly never laugh during such a serious time as silent prayer!”

  Their own home was only several yards from the church, and already they were in the woodshed.

  “But, Father, I have to—”

  “Be still! Can’t you ever keep quiet when you’re told?”

  Faith blinked back tears. How could she explain that she had to pee?

  “I’m sorry, Faith, but you force me to do this. If you would just obey the rules, I would never have to give you these thrashings. Now, bend over!”

  Faith pressed her lips tight together, silent tears running down her cheeks. She turned and bent over to grasp a sawhorse, and her father took a flat wooden paddle from the wall. He threw her dress up across her back, exposing her plain white cotton drawers, material too thin to be much of a buffer for the paddle. She jerked when she felt the first smack against her bottom. Then came another, three, four, five, six. Her bottom stung fearfully, and she could feel it getting hot. Seven, eight. She wondered if a paddle could break a bone.

  Her dress was jerked down. “Now maybe you will think twice about giggling during prayer service,” her father told her. “Remember that I love you, Faith Kelley. That is the only reason I do this. I want you to grow up to be a good and faithful woman, a woman of honor and respect. Fight the free spirit inside of you that causes you to do foolish things. Pray about it, Faith.”

  After he left, Faith heard her mother outside, protesting. “She’s just being a child,” Sadie was saying.

  “She is nine years old! That’s old enough to know right from wrong! And don’t you dare go in there and console her, Sadie Kelley. You’ll just encourage her to go against the rules again. She must know that we are together on this! And you’d best be praying for your own soul, woman! It’s your free spirit she’s got. Do you think I don’t know how you struggle to remain faithful and quiet? Pray, woman! Pray for yourself and for your daughter!”

  Faith peeked through a crack in the woodshed. She saw her father take Benny’s hand and walk off with the boy, watched her mother cover her face with her hands and weep. Her own tears came again, and she wondered how she was going to explain the fact that she had just wet herself. The beating had forced it out of her. Maybe she would get another spanking for it.

  One thing she knew for sure. When she was big enough to fend for herself, she was going to run away from this place and never come back.

  Gabriel lay awake. He was not sure of the time, since the Sioux did not use clocks and timepieces to keep track of such things. He remembered how to read a clock, still had a pocket watch that had belonged to his beloved father. He could even still remember some French and English, and for that he had become of value to the Minniconjou tribe with whom he and his mother had lived for the past nine years. His mother had remarried, a Sioux warrior called Five Crows. Gabriel was glad. She had even had another child three years ago, a little girl who had lived. His half sister’s name was Many Flowers.

  Many Crows had taught him the warrior way, but his beloved grandfather, Two Moccasins, had taught Gabriel the deep, spiritual side of the People. He had experienced the sweat lodge, and later this summer he would suffer his first Sun Dance sacrifice, something he considered a great honor. His grandfather would be very proud of him that day, and so would Alexander Beaumont if he could be there to see it. He would never forget his real father, and often he felt the man’s presence, especially in the night.

  He breathed deeply with pride, staring at the awakening sky through the smoke hole at the top of the tepee, his thoughts turning to the pretty girl called Little Otter. He was a man now, nineteen. Little Otter was only fourteen summers, not quite old enough to become a wife, but soon, very soon…He had been watching her for two years already, wanting her more as he grew older.

  Little Otter was Santee. Gabriel saw her only at the gathering of tribes for a buffalo hunt, or for the Sun Dance and other special occasions. Her father was a prominent Santee warrior, and Gabriel knew it would take many horses and proof of bravery to win her hand. His own sacrifice at the Sun Dance this summer would make a great impression. It was at this dance he expected to receive a vision from the Great Spirit that would show him what animal should guide him, and from which he would take his Indian name. He must have an Indian name before he asked for Little Otter’s hand.

  He had already decided he would suffer the Sun Dance every year until Little Otter was old enough to marry, just to prove himself to her father. He would not cry out with the pain. Already he had captured many horses, both wild and tame, horses he would present to Little Otter’s father to try to make the man promise not to let her go to anyone else. He also had two very fine buffalo hides and his father’s hunting knife to give as a gift. He hated to give up the knife. It was special to him. But Alexander Beaumont would understand.

  He felt an urgency deep in his loins for Little Otter. He knew what a man and woman did to get babies, and he was very anxious to plant himself between Little Otter’s legs, to see her naked and make her his woman once she was old enough. Last year, during the women’s blanket dance at the huge Sun Dance gathering, Little Otter had been allowed to dance, and she had thrown her blanket over him to show that she favored him. They had sat under the blanket for several minutes, talking about their families, enjoying being close. He had kissed her cheek. She didn’t know about kissing. That was a white man’s practice, but she had enjoyed the kiss, especially when he had kissed her on the lips. She had let him touch her still-small breasts, and ever since then he had been on fire for her.

  He no longer thought so much about whether he should be white or Indian. He had no qualms about stealing horses
from white settlers, but so far he had not killed any of them. He could not quite bring himself to do that, for he had known some good white people as he’d grown up, mostly other hunters who had been friends with his father. Alex would not want him killing innocent whites. His father’s best friend had been a crusty, often smelly, but honest and friendly trapper named Jess Willett, who had saved Alex’s life once. Gabriel remembered him most vividly, but he had not seen the man since Alex’s death.

  It ate at him to realize the day was coming when he would have to make a decision over killing whites, for settlers encroached more and more into precious Sioux hunting grounds. Just last year a camp of Brule Sioux was wrongfully attacked by bluecoat soldiers. It had all started over a cow shot by a Minniconjou, a man from his mother’s own tribe. From what they could figure, the owner of the cow had reported it, and soldiers had been sent out to try to bring in all Minniconjou men and find the culprit. But the stupid leader of the soldiers didn’t know one Indian from another, and he had attacked the Brule camp, none of whom had had anything to do with shooting the cow. The soldiers had fired one of those big guns that sent exploding metal in a shower of injurious horror into the middle of the camp, killing and injuring innocent women and children. The Brule had retaliated by killing every one of those soldiers, to the last man.

  Now all Minniconjou were worried about what would happen because of the massacre. But Gabriel’s only personal concern was how long he would have to wait to marry Little Otter. He would then become a member of the Santee tribe, since by custom the wife was always allowed to remain with her family’s tribe. He would have to leave his precious mother, but she had Five Crows now, and her father and little daughter. He was himself a grown man, and it was time to become a husband and a provider…and have sons of his own.