“That is enough, Faith!” her own father roared. “How dare you speak to Mr. Sommers that way! A man does what he must do to discipline his children and steer them in the right path. Your own chores will be doubled, young lady, and you will spend many hours in prayer! And speaking of discipline, a belt to your own legs might take the foolishness out of you. We thought that restless spirit in you had finally left you, but you were only fooling us so that you could have more freedom to see Johnny.” He stepped closer. “Your freedom is ended. I’ll not let you out of my sight for quite some time, young lady. Now, get home with you!”
Faith sniffed, wiping at her cheeks. “Johnny’s coming back,” she swore, “and when he does, I’m going to marry him and go away with him. You should be glad, because then you’ll be rid of me.” She turned and ran off, thinking how wonderful it would be if women could join the army. And if Johnny didn’t come back for her, once she was a little older, she’d run away and find a new life anyway.
It was a pretty day in June, and Tall Bear carried Running Fox on his shoulders as they walked through the wild prairieland. He and Little Otter, who was again with child, had decided to take a day alone, enjoy the freedom that could so easily be taken from them. The white men were at war now, and many soldiers had been taken away from the Dakotas. That meant there was less danger of being attacked by the bluecoats, at least for a while. Maybe the whites would become so involved in their war that they would forget all about the Indian.
The absence of soldiers also meant they did not have to abide by any treaties, something Makhpiya-sha, Red Cloud, had already decided need not be done. The great Oglala chief was waging a very successful campaign in Powder River country to chase out more soldiers farther west, and some of the forts had been burned. Tall Bear had not become involved in Red Cloud’s war yet, but he had considered it many times.
“Come and pick some of these flowers and put them in your hair,” he called to Little Otter, who lagged behind. She smiled and walked a little faster to catch up. She led Tall Bear’s spotted horse, which was tied to two more horses, pack animals for their two-week venture of hunting and freedom.
“Take the horses so that I can pick the flowers,” she told her husband.
Tall Bear reached up and grabbed hold of his three-year-old son, turning and plopping him atop the first horse. “Hang on, Running Fox,” he warned.
The boy laughed with delight, grasping the horse’s mane while Tall Bear took the leather reins from Little Otter. “I think perhaps before the summer is over we should go join Red Cloud’s Oglala,” he told his wife.
Little Otter gathered daisies and began sticking them in her hair and tunic. “That would mean leaving my own family here in the Dakotas.” Her heart was sad at the thought. “And more danger for you. You only say this because you want to make war with Red Cloud.”
Tall Bear grinned. “Maybe. But it would not be so dangerous. Already Red Cloud has chased away many soldiers, burned forts. Many white men try to go through that country to find gold in the place the whites call Montana Territory. Now maybe they will think twice about coming, with no soldier protection. Maybe there we can enjoy peace and freedom a little longer. We could take your family with us. After all, Red Cloud’s Oglala are their relatives. Wouldn’t you like to go to that new country?”
She shrugged. “I suppose. I just do not want you to have to go into battle.” She walked closer, touching his bare chest. The day was warm, and Tall Bear wore only a loincloth, a beaded leather band around his head, and his grandfather’s bear-claw necklace hung around his neck. “And I am not so sure you should go where my people raid the white settlers so often. Do not forget that part of you is white, my husband. I thinks perhaps that sometimes when you steal horses, make war against them, it is hard for you inside. You still sometimes think of them as your people. You know that they are not the same as the bluecoat leaders who attack us with their big guns because the Great Father in the East tells them to.”
He touched her cheek. “I will admit that often I am torn. But it is these new whites I have no use for, those who come not to trade with us, but to steal our land.”
She kissed his chest. “If it is making war you want, there is enough of that here, Tall Bear, enough trouble with the settlers in the Dakotas, Minnesota. You must truly know your heart before you take all of us on such a long journey farther west.”
“I know my heart only enough to know how much I love you,” he said, touching her face. “For now we will just enjoy this time together alone, just the three of us. I will hunt. We will take deer meat home to the others. I will begin teaching Running Fox—”
His words were cut off by the startling report of gunfire, a loud boom that was not like anything Tall Bear had ever heard. In almost the same instant, Running Fox fell from the horse. Little Otter screamed, and Tall Bear turned to see his son lying on the ground, his head seemingly shattered. Tall Bear’s breath seemed to leave him as stunned shock took over.
He dropped down into the grass, reaching up to pull Little Otter down with him, but she stood frozen in place, staring in horror at her little boy. Before she ducked down, another shot rang out, again a loud boom that told of a very dangerous weapon. Little Otter jerked forward and landed near Tall Bear in the grass, a large hole in her back.
“Come on and get up, Indian!” someone yelled. “We’re here to hunt buffalo and take their hides, but while we’re at it, we might as well get rid of some of the smaller varmints in these parts.”
Tall Bear heard laughter. He felt vomit coming to his throat at the realization that his wife and son had just been shot down as though they were skunks.
Buffalo hunters! He’d heard men had come there to kill buffalo, that they used some kind of special rifle, a big gun that made big holes and hit targets many more yards away than any average rifle. That awful weapon had surely just been used on his innocent little boy and his gentle, harmless wife.
“Let’s get it over with, Indian!” one of the men shouted.
Tall Bear, reeling with the horror of what had just happened, lay motionless in the tall grass.
“Mighty fine-lookin’ horses you got there. We’ll help ourselves to them and your supplies once you’re done for,” came another shout.
Tall Bear peered through tall grass at a distant cluster of rocks from where the voices came. He could not bear to think about Little Otter and Running Fox. No, not yet. First these men had to die, and for that he had to stay calm, rational. He had to get to his own rifle. He had to kill those men.
“Come and get me, you child-killing bastards!” he shouted, unsure just how many there were.
At first there was no reply, and he knew he had surprised them by calling out to them in English. “All you did was kill a squaw and her kid,” he yelled. “I am dressed as an Indian, but I am half-white, and this woman was just a squaw to me. There are plenty more where she came from. I have no wish to kill the men who have rid me of a nagging woman!”
He heard a little laughter.
“It is not necessary to kill me. I am just a hunter like you, who took a squaw. I can show you where there are many buffalo, and I can take you to my village, where you can buy many furs for tobacco.”
His heart beat faster when one of them rose. “That true? You’re half-white?”
“Do I sound like an Indian? I even speak French!” He rattled off a few words, calling them names in French, sure they wouldn’t know the difference.
Another one stood up. “I’ll be damned,” he said.
“I am also wearing no weapons,” Tall Bear told them, putting up his hands and slowly rising. This was the only answer. He had to draw them out. He was caught out there in wide-open prairie. They were behind rocks. He could not make a move without getting them out from behind shelter and winning their confidence. He stood and waited cautiously, watching a third man emerge from the rocks. Slowly all three men, wearing soiled buckskins and sporting beards, moved away from the rocks and walked t
oward him.
“Hell, we didn’t know you was a breed, mister,” one of them said. “You sure as hell look all Indian.”
“My mother was Sioux, but my father was a white trapper. When I hunt, I dress and behave like an Indian. The best way to find good buffalo herds is to befriend the Indians first. They will share plenty of information for whiskey and tobacco. They will sometimes even help with the hunt. You take the hide, they get the meat and bones.” He stepped closer to his horse, where his rifle hung in its boot. He would have to be steady. Those big rifles they carried looked as though they would be difficult to raise and shoot with the kind of speed a man could shoot a lighter repeating rifle. He had traded some good furs and robes for his rifle, and he’d practiced with it often. His Sioux friends admired the speed and accuracy with which he used the gun, and if he could get to it now…
“I never heard of Indians helpin’ white men hunt buffalo,” one of them called out to him as all three men came even closer.
Tall Bear gauged each one. One was downright fat. He’d be the slowest, so he’d be the one to shoot last. The other two were of average build, and they held their rifles lazily now. One wore a huge knife at his belt. He would have to go first. Casually, he stepped closer to his horse, waited for what he felt was the right moment. Today all these men would die…or he himself would die. Without Running Fox and Little Otter, he did not want to live anyway. How could the morning be so calm and beautiful only moments ago, and so full of horror now?
“You just do not know how to deal with Indians,” he answered the last wary statement. The three men came even closer, still watching him carefully. It is a good day to die, he thought. In one quick movement he yanked his rifle out of its boot and leveled it at all three men. “But I know how to deal with stinking white murderers!” he shouted.
One…two…three. He fired the rifle, retracted it, fired again, retracted it, fired again. The gods were with him that day. All three fell, astonished looks on their faces. Two writhed in pain, one reaching for his big buffalo gun. Tall Bear walked up to them, calmly aimed his rifle at first one—shooting him in the head—then the other, who begged for mercy.
“I will show you the same mercy you showed my wife and son,” he answered. He pulled the trigger again, putting a hole between the man’s eyes. His breathing quickened then, and he knew he must do something he’d never done before. He would take white men’s scalps. He looked around to be sure there were only these three, then tossed the rifle aside and knelt down, taking a hunting knife from one of the men and using it to slice off each man’s hair near the forehead.
He held up the bloody scalps, giving out a long, eerie cry of mourning. He turned, shoving the scalps through some leather ties on the gear of one of the packhorses. It was only then he could allow the horror of his loss to become real to him. He looked down at Running Fox, his precious son, who was always smiling and full of energy. He would not hear his laughter again, nor would he hold Little Otter in his arms again. Their second child would die in her belly. He would have to wrap their bodies and take them back to the village for proper burial…
His heart shattered, he fell to his knees, Little Otter’s body on one side of him, Running Fox’s on the other. He tossed the white man’s hunting knife aside. He did not want their evil blood to touch his own. He took his own hunting knife from where it was tied at his ankle, and, as was the custom, he slashed his arms, letting blood in mourning for his lost family. His cries of sorrow echoed throughout the nearby hills and valleys.
Chapter Five
1862…
Faith approached Sommers Farm Supply, glad her father was at a meeting of Quakers and had allowed her and her mother to come shopping alone. A proud and arrogant Benny was with his father, the two of them practically inseparable. Faith had given up trying to please her father, was only biding her time until she could find a way to get away from Pennsylvania altogether. She had thought she would leave with Johnny, but there had been no letters as he’d promised. It broke her heart to think he’d probably already forgotten about her, after all his promises of love, promises to write, to come back for her.
She had never seen Johnny again after that day in the woods a year ago, and her father had strictly forbidden her to see any other young men. She had been forced to spend many hours praying, attending meetings, and some looked at her as though she were a shamed woman.
Didn’t they understand she had simply been a young girl in love, and that her lover was going off to war? What had been so wrong about what she had done? Her mother seemed to quietly understand. She could see it in the woman’s eyes. Sadie had never chastised her personally for what had happened, and she had never asked her about it. When Faith had daringly asked the woman if she could go to Sommers Supply and talk to Mrs. Sommers about Johnny, find out what they had heard from him, Sadie had agreed it was all right to do so. She had even offered to come with her.
They walked inside, where Sadie greeted Gertrude, talking about the daily things all women talked about. Faith suspected they enjoyed the days when only the men went to meeting. For those few hours the women experienced a tiny taste of freedom just to be themselves. When Faith’s father scolded her, he would say she had her mother’s “wild spirit.” It made Faith wonder just how happy her mother really was leading this life. She sometimes felt sorry for the woman. Sadie never complained, but Faith was sure her mother was not happy.
“Where are the children?” Sadie was asking Gertrude now, referring to Johnny’s brothers and sisters, who sometimes worked in the store.
“Oh, they are all at home doing chores,” Gertrude replied. “I would be there, too, but I have to run the store while Herbert is at the meeting. I just wish this hideous war was over with. There are other young men of our faith who also want to join the army now, and it is getting more and more difficult to discourage them.”
Faith walked to an area where spices were displayed in barrels. She glanced into a mirror that hung on a wall behind the barrels, seeing a pretty redheaded, blue-eyed young woman there. They had one small mirror at home, which her father allowed to be used only for his shaving and for her mother to fix her hair. It was not to be used for any other form of vanity. Faith had stolen moments to stare into it, studying herself, wondering if she really was as pretty as her mother had told her many times when they were alone. She thought her mother was very pretty, too.
She put a hand to her nose, which still showed a few freckles. She wondered what Johnny would think of her now at sixteen. She had changed a lot in this one year, was taller, felt more mature. Her breasts had grown much fuller, but she was forced to wear bindings meant to flatten them so that they did not show too obviously. She hated the binding, especially on these hot summer days.
She nervously made her way to the counter where her mother talked with Johnny’s mother. Did she dare ask? Would Mrs. Sommers tell her husband Faith had asked about Johnny? Before she could even say anything herself, her mother did the talking for her.
“I know my husband has forbidden you to speak of Johnny around our daughter,” she was telling Gertrude, “but Faith has been very anxious to know if he is all right. I wonder if you could tell me if he has written, if he is well. Of course we don’t want your husband or mine to know that we inquired. My daughter did care very much for Johnny, you know.”
Gertrude glanced at Faith. The woman was more stern than her own mother, certainly more plain in the face and in her dress, but she was kind, and she and Sadie had become fast friends. Faith saw a hint of understanding in Gertrude’s eyes. “Johnny is fine, as far as we know,” she responded. “He didn’t write for a long time, he was so angry about what happened in the woods that day.”
Faith felt her face turning crimson. “We were just—saying good-bye,” she said. “Johnny promised to write me, but he never did. He’ll probably never come back here, and I…” She felt the sting of tears. “I thought he loved me. I don’t know why he never wrote.” A tear slipped down
her cheek. She had not expected to be so overpowered by emotion. She supposed it was because it was such a relief just to be able to talk about Johnny, to admit she’d loved him.
“Never wrote?” Gertrude Sommers frowned, glancing at Sadie, folding her arms over the front of her plain gray dress. “Sadie, since this is just between us, there is apparently something you don’t know, something your Mr. Kelley has been keeping from you.”
Sadie put a hand on Faith’s shoulder. “I don’t understand.”
The door opened, and another woman came inside. Gertrude walked from behind the counter, talking low to Sadie. “Come into the back with me for a moment.” She told the new customer she would be with her shortly, and she led Sadie and Faith to the back of the store into a small room that held a desk and a few extra supplies. She closed the door. “You have not received any of Johnny’s letters?” she asked Faith.
Faith shook her head.
Sadie blinked in confusion. “I have never seen any letters,” she answered. “My husband picks up the mail every day, and there has never—” Her face reddened with anger. “My goodness! If Johnny wrote to Faith, Matthew must have seen the letters and never given them to Faith! But…Faith asked him many times if there were any letters from Johnny, and he always told her no. She even risked whippings for asking, since she’s been forbidden to talk about him at all. I just…I never expected Matthew to lie like that!”
Gertrude sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know how many there have been. I only know that in the four letters we have received from Johnny, he always asked why he had not heard from Faith. He wrote that he had sent her several letters but had never received a reply. I never asked you about it because I knew your husband did not want us talking to you or Faith about Johnny, and because my own husband forbade me to. For all we know, my own husband knows Mr. Kelley has been destroying Johnny’s letters.”
Tame the Wild Wind Page 5
