Heart of the Sandhills

by Stephanie Grace Whitson

  Sally glanced up at Gen. The women’s eyes met for only a second before she turned away. “Thank you for talking to me,” she said. She straightened her shoulders a little, as if a small burden had been lifted. Wearily, she climbed back up onto her seat and, without looking back, turned the carriage around and headed back up the road.

  As soon as Sally Marsh’s carriage was out of sight, Daniel and Genevieve said good-bye and climbed up onto the wagon seat. Robert and Aaron mounted up—Robert on the horse they had bought with Abner Marsh’s cash payment for his carpentry and Aaron on Bones, accepted by Daniel as payment for the spring plowing he’d done. “And I won’t take no for an answer,” Jeb had said. “You take him now or I’ll have to follow you up to Fort Ridgely and tie him to your tent stake some night.”

  “You’ll let us know where you end up.” Jeb said. He picked up one of the twins. Marjorie followed suit. They stood watching and waving until Daniel’s wagon topped the hill and dipped out of sight.

  “Are you all right, little wife?” Daniel said after a few moments. Gen moved closer to him. She put her hand on his knee and began to hum a familiar tune. Cling to me and you’ll ever have a plenty …

  Fourteen

  Hast thou given the horse strength? Hast thou clothed his neck with thunder? … He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength: he goeth on to meet the armed men. He mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted.

  —Job 39:19, 21–22

  Edward Pope came tearing into Fort Ridgely. “They got him!” he shouted to anyone who would listen, waving his hat in the air and beating his mule’s flanks in a futile attempt to get the creature to move faster. “Chrisman and Buford got the white stallion!”

  Heads emerged from tents just in time to see Pope’s mule dump its rider in the dust. “It’s true,” Pope insisted, lifting one hand as if taking a vow and dusting off his backside with the other. “I seen him myself. A rope on all fours. They got him nearly spread-eagled up that way,” Pope pointed toward the north. “Nearly spread-eagled and he’s still fightin’ like a demon.”

  He ran toward where the scouts were camped and yelled at Daniel and Robert. “Come on! You got to see this.”

  Daniel and Robert were only too willing to mount up and follow Edward Pope for a chance to see the horse everyone was talking about. Their life at Fort Ridgely had been happily boring for the past two weeks since Captain Willets received news that he would be heading West soon and could he please recruit some new scouts. He assured Daniel and Robert their wives could accompany them at least as far as Fort Wadsworth, where they could settle with the other Dakota families. And young Aaron Dane could get a taste of army life.

  Daniel and Robert got reacquainted with some of the men they had known before, not the least of which was Edward Pope, who blushed furiously when he was introduced to Genevieve and quickly won the women’s hearts by buying trinkets for Nancy’s baby Joseph at the sutler’s. “Got nothing else to spend it on,” Pope said when Nancy protested his generosity. “Ain’t likely I’ll ever have a boy of my own. Not many women care for a man that looks like he was put together with spare parts from God’s ugly bucket.”

  Except for the tales of a legendary wild horse roaming the hills far to the west, there was little excitement at Fort Ridgely. Aaron had grumbled that he wasn’t learning very much about the Army.

  “On the contrary,” Captain Willets said. “You’re learning a lot. If you can’t handle a little boredom, you won’t do very well in the Army.” He gave a knowing look to Robert. “Ask anyone you know who has good character and they’ll tell you one of the worst things they meet up with is the temptations that surround camp life when there’s no campaigns. There aren’t many things worse in this world than a bored soldier.”

  Aaron saw plenty of evidence to uphold Willets’s opinion in his first couple of days at Fort Ridgely. There was gambling at almost every hour of the day. The men told stories and fished. A few played battered musical instruments. And Captain Willets’s best attempts at keeping the men busy with dress parades and inspections could not eradicate the pursuit of entertainment of the female variety in a well-sequestered cabin the location of which the men kept secret.

  Pope’s announcement was the biggest news most of the men had heard in weeks. In minutes, a column of nearly two dozen soldiers mounted up and headed out to see the newly captured horse.

  “He’s gathered up quite a little herd of mares,” Pope explained to Daniel and Robert as they rode along. “Strays from a few years ago, I guess,” he said. “There wasn’t exactly an organized effort to round up all the livestock wandering free.”

  “Have you seen him?” Daniel wanted to know.

  Pope shook his head. “Nope. Only heard stories.” He smiled. “There’s been kind of a contest to see who could catch and ride him. Guess he’s somethin’ to look at.”

  They heard him before they saw him. Unearthly squeals punctuated by human shouts carried on the clear morning air. Daniel’s army-issue bay sidestepped and tossed its head nervously as they grew closer to the source of the awful noise. Finally, they rounded a massive pile of rock left from some long-ago rockslide. Daniel caught his breath when he saw the horse. It was a magnificent creature even in its worst moment. Chrisman and Buford had, indeed, managed to lasso each foot separately and completely immobilize the stallion by pounding stakes into the ground and tying the ropes in place. Now they had lassoed his head as well.

  But even though the animal could barely stand and had no hope of escape, it would not be beaten. It had struggled against the tethers until blood coursed down one of its fetlocks, darkening the earth around it. And the eyes—the animal’s eyes showed murderous intent as it stood, nostrils flaring with the effort to suck in air and continue the defiant screams, even though it could barely raise its head.

  “Who’s gonna ride ‘im?” someone hollered.

  “You mean who’s gonna’ get kilt?” came the reply.

  “You scared?”

  “You bet I am. I never sat a horse before I joined up, and I’m not about to risk my life on that devil. Army issue is good enough for me.”

  “Two bits says even the Injuns can’t ride him,” someone shouted.

  “I’ll take that bet,” Edward Pope said quickly. He had seen Daniel and Robert slip to the side of a horse galloping at full speed and had no doubt one of them could stay aboard the stallion for at least a few minutes.

  Someone else spoke up and before long the entire group of men were harassing Robert and Daniel.

  Robert grinned at his friend. “Just don’t break your neck.”

  Chrisman produced a halter, and while two other men held the stallion’s head still, he slipped it over the velvet-soft muzzle and up over the ears. The horse screamed in protest and managed to leave an imprint on Chrisman’s left forearm with huge teeth. But after a few moments, the halter was on, the rope attached to form a primitive kind of reins.

  Daniel approached the animal cautiously. It was when he began to circle around to inspect the creature that he saw something unbelievable. Plainly visible in the gleaming white coat along the withers were a series of wicked scars. Frowning, Daniel walked around the back of the animal and inspected the other side, and then he knew. And when he realized whose the horse had been, he also realized that however formidable the creature seemed, it was no longer a young animal. And contrary to legend and what these soldiers believed, the creature had been ridden—often and for long distances.

  Completing his inspection, Daniel crouched down before it, inches from its muzzle. He began to talk to the horse in a low voice.

  “What’s he doin’?” one of the soldiers said. “Tryin’ some Dakota medicine to cast a spell?”

  “He’s telling the horse his name,” Pope said matter-of-factly. “And—” Pope, who was usually more than happy to boast of his knowledge of the Dakota language, saw the scars across the stallion’s withers and suddenly shut up.

  “Well?” the soldier dema
nded.

  Pope shook his head. “Can’t say.”

  And it was true. He couldn’t, because then Daniel’s successful ride would seem less miraculous.

  “You remember me, great one,” Daniel was saying. “You were a great war horse to my friend Otter. When he died, you stayed in my friend’s barn for a while.” Daniel reached out to touch the horse’s muzzle. The animal flared its nostrils wide and snorted, but it smelled Daniel’s hand and did not bite. “And then I came to get you. And I took you to freedom.” Gently, ever so slowly, Daniel worked his way up to the horse’s forehead. When the creature deigned to let Daniel scratch its forehead, Daniel slowly stood up, all the while talking. “Only the night before I let you go, the great cat attacked you. I was able to kill the cat. I still have its skin. I am sorry that I was unable to make your wounds better that night, but I see they have healed well.” By this time, Daniel was at the horse’s side. When he reached out to touch the scars, the horse shivered. But Daniel continued talking, running his hand down the topline from the withers to the flank while the horse turned its head to look at him. “And now you have a lodge of mares. You should have taken them farther toward the setting sun. I will set you free again, great one, if you will only let me ride you so these foolish white men will leave you alone. You can stay with me until we are ready to move on. And once we are farther west I will set you free again and you can collect a new band of wives.”

  Slowly, Daniel slipped up onto the stallion’s back. The horse didn’t move, but his nostrils flared and he made a strange sound of protest deep in his throat.

  “Four of you,” Daniel said quietly in English, “get ready. And be certain you roll out of the way the instant you let the ropes go.” Four men sidled up to the four stakes. They lay on the ground and reached toward the ropes. Chrisman spoke up. “On four.” Daniel gathered up the halter’s rope and nodded that he was ready.

  “One … two … three … FOUR!” At the same moment as Chrisman and Buford pulled their lassos off the stallion’s head, each man yanked the knot free binding the horse to the stakes, covered their heads with their arms, and rolled across the earth away from where the stallion stood.

  The horse stood. Still.

  The men gaped at the picture in disbelief.

  The horse took a step forward, then sideways. It twisted its head around and everyone waited for him to take a chunk out of Daniel’s leg, but instead he rolled his eyes and looked first to the right, then to the left.

  “Thank you, great one,” Daniel said in Dakota. “You are showing these white men how sensible a good pony can be.” The horse snorted and tossed its head, and the group of men watching backed up.

  When Daniel nudged the animal in the sides it began to buck. “Here we go!” someone shouted, and in one voice the men let out a whoop.

  The stallion took off as if shot from a piece of field artillery, streaking out of the canyon and onto the open prairie. Daniel leaned against the animal’s neck, his eyes tearing up from wind and mane in his eyes—and from emotion, for almost it was as if he were a boy again, astride his favorite pony, chasing after the buffalo that must be just over the next rise.

  But just beyond the next rise there was only a cluster of about two dozen mares. The soldiers riding in pursuit of Daniel and the white stallion made a wide circle around and stampeded the mares back in the direction of Fort Ridgeley. The stallion needed no guidance to turn and follow, and after a mad dash that lasted for several miles, the mares settled down and permitted themselves to be herded over the hills and down into the valleys until, late in the afternoon, they were circling nervously inside a corral at Fort Ridgely.

  “And so Daniel, here, takes up the reins, and—”

  “Give it a rest, Pope,” Chrisman said wearily. “Everybody’s heard it.”

  “I ain’t heard it,” Pope’s audience, a blond-haired youth who helped Edward with the company’s camp kitchen, said.

  “Well wait ‘til I’m out of earshot before you hear it,” Chrisman shot back testily.

  He slurped up the rest of his stew before standing up and retreating to his tent. Bringing in the stallion and his small herd had been a good start to an otherwise boring day, but as he looked across the compound to where the white stallion now grazed peacefully alongside the Dakota scouts’ worn-out team of mules, Chrisman realized for the tenth time that day that he had been suckered into a losing bet. Obviously Daniel Two Stars knew some kind of Indian magic that put horses in a trance. He had heard of people who could do that. Just his luck, Chrisman thought, for him to run into one of them.

  He plopped onto his bunk. Through the open tent flap he could see Edward Pope crouched beside the dying fire, his face intent as he told Timothy fields what had happened that day. At least, he thought, Captain Willets had been pleased when they brought in the small group of mares, sleek from grazing on abundant grass and, Captain Willets surmised, most of them likely with foal.

  Tomorrow they would have an old-fashioned rodeo and see to it that the mares were branded as property of the U.S. Army. As for the white stallion, no one seemed to mind that Daniel Two Stars had taken possession of the creature. No one else seemed willing to take it on, and as far as he, Chrisman, was concerned, if a fool Indian wanted to risk his neck with a half-wild horse, who was he to protest. Besides, he had his eye on one of those mares—a leggy buckskin with one blue eye. Edward Pope had pointed her out with a mind to claim her the next day. They would see about that.

  Fifteen

  A man that hath friends must show himself friendly.

  —Proverbs 18:24

  “Stop that!” Daniel shoved the white stallion away and returned to untangling its long mane. But the horse reached out again, taking just enough of Daniel’s sleeve between his teeth to prevent Daniel’s arm from moving. When Daniel jerked his arm away and bopped the horse on the muzzle, the creature curled its lips away from its teeth in protest. Stretching its neck, it bobbed its head up and down and danced away, spinning sideways around the tether anchored in the soft soil beneath an oak tree.

  “If you can’t control that animal,” a voice called out, “you’d better requisition another mount. You’ll need something dependable in the next few days.”

  Daniel turned around to find Captain Willets leaning against the tree trunk, his arms folded, a grin on his face.

  “A few days?”

  Willets nodded. “Yep. Orders came in today.” He walked over to the horse and began to stroke its muzzle while he talked. “There’s a change, though. I thought sure we’d be headed for Fort Wadsworth. Seems now we’re providing a small detachment to go with a special commissioner making the rounds to all the tribes of the Missouri. Meeting him at Fort Randall. He’ll have a wagon and supplies and his own interpreter. We’re just supposed to give him an escort to make sure he doesn’t get himself killed.”

  “Another special commission?” Daniel snorted and shook his head.

  Willets shrugged. “From Fort Randall we head up the Niobrara west through Nebraska. We’ll drop south along the border and head to Fort Laramie. Then on up to Powder River country and Fort Phil Kearney. After that it depends on the commissioner. There’s another powwow planned for September at Fort Laramie.” He nodded with satisfaction. “Join the army and tour the West. See real live hostile Indians.”

  Daniel thought for a moment. “It’s time for Aaron to go home to New York.”

  Willets nodded. “Thought you’d say that.”

  “You don’t agree?”

  “Well … “ Willets adjusted his hat.

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “Younger men than him enlist all the time.” He cleared his throat. “I was just thinking if he really thinks he wants a military career, I can’t think of a better way for him to start one than with you and Robert scouting—and me in command.” He grinned. “And I say that with all due humility, of course.”

  Daniel leaned on the stallion, his arms across the animal’s back. The horse l
owered his head and sighed. “Blue Eyes would never agree to that.”

  “What if she could come, too?” Willets said quietly. At Daniel’s look of surprise he said, “Carrington took entire families with him last winter when he went north to Fort Phil Kearney. ‘Course it didn’t turn out very well. But I’m not cocky like Fetterman, and I’d like to think I understand Indians a little better than Carrington. At least I’ve been in the West for a while and I’ve weathered some action. And we’re not going to run into any trouble this side of Fort Laramie. Mrs. Two Stars could help Edward cook.”

  “She might like that.”

  “Like it? She’ll jump at the chance and you know it,” Willets teased. “I think she’d offer to be the company blacksmith if it meant she got to stay with you.” He was suddenly serious. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman look at man the way she does you, Two Stars. It’s enough to make a man almost wish he was married.”

  Daniel studied his curry comb for a moment and then began to brush his horse again. “We waited a long time for each other,” he said. Then he looked at his friend. “God has blessed us.”

  “Hmph,” Willets shook his head. “It’s always God with you, Two Stars. Did God pick those wildflowers I saw you bringing her yesterday?”

  Daniel shifted his weight uncomfortably and tried to change the subject. “Robert won’t want Nancy coming with the new baby. We were counting on Aaron taking them to the reservation on the Niobrara next week. Two of the teachers from the old mission are working there. Blue Eyes and Nancy would be welcome.” He brushed his hand down the stallion’s dusty spine.

  “Robert can take a detour to see his wife and baby settled at Santee and catch up with us later at Fort Randall. And Mrs. Two Stars can wait for us at Fort Laramie if we end up going into hostile country. We can work it out.”

  “I don’t know about leaving Blue Eyes at Fort Laramie alone. You know how Indian women are treated around the forts.”