Heart of the Sandhills

by Stephanie Grace Whitson

  “Two Moons?” he croaked.

  “No. It’s me.” She kissed his cheek, then his forehead, brushing his dark hair away from his face.

  He frowned slightly, as if trying to comprehend. “I thought I was dreaming.” He opened his eyes and when they focused on her face, he smiled. “A good dream.” He asked for water. When she slipped her arm beneath his head to help him drink, he tried to help himself sit up, but after two gulps of water he had to lie back down, exhausted. She thought he was asleep until he moved his good leg and winced.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  He grimaced. “Leg hurts.”

  “I’ll get the doctor.”

  “No. Don’t—don’t go. He’ll come.” He took a couple of deep breaths and fell back to sleep.

  Later that morning Dr. Grainger took Gen aside and explained everything that had been done, everything to expect. “It’s infected, but wounds always get infected. It’s getting better. The drain is out. I left a few stitches in, but we can take those out soon.”

  “He complained of pain,” Gen said. “He never complains about pain.”

  “Phantom pain,” the doctor said. “His brain doesn’t realize the leg is gone. Everyone experiences it. And it can be fairly intense.”

  Gen nodded. “What can I do for him?”

  “Just what you are doing. But you certainly don’t need to spend every minute in here. I told Two Moons the same thing. He’s out of danger.”

  “Where else would I want to be?”

  “Well,” Grainger said, “some wives in this situation would want to be anywhere but the hospital.”

  “Then I guess I am not ‘some wives.’ Can you show me how to change the bandage?”

  “Of course. Is there anything you need?”

  Gen shook her head. “Only for my husband to be all right.”

  “Because of the other injuries, this is going to take a little longer, but usually we can fit him with a wooden leg by the end of the third week.”

  Gen gulped and nodded.

  “It won’t be long before we can get him up. Picotte is quite a hand at whittling. I’ve got him working on something.” He smiled and nodded encouragement. “I know this seems a terrible tragedy, Mrs. Two Stars. And it will take a while for him to adjust. But I’ve seen men do so well you would never guess they’ve had the surgery.” The doctor looked over Gen’s shoulder. “It looks like he’s resting comfortably. There’s half a company of men outside waiting to see you.”

  Gen followed the doctor outside. Robert Lawrence had a permanent part just above his left ear and Big Amos would have a weak arm for a few weeks yet, but they were healthy and anxious to return to their wives in Nebraska before snowfall.

  “We’ll get him up and moving,” Robert promised. “We’re not leaving without you.”

  “I’ve several letters for you,” Elliot said. “Jane is hoping you and Daniel will come back to New York with Aaron and me. He can recuperate under our doctor at home.” He held up his hook. “Obviously the man knows what he’s doing with this sort of thing.”

  Even Edward Pope had come to say hello, his head bobbing up and down nervously as he promised an unending supply of soup as soon as Daniel’s appetite returned.

  But Aaron. Seeing Aaron opened the floodgates.

  “Ma!” he swept her up into his strong arms and whirled her around and set her back down after a fierce hug.

  Gen reached up to pat his cheek, now covered with a week’s growth of beard—he had decided just a goatee like Captain Willets’s was not quite enough, he explained nervously. She put her hands on his arms to “get a good look” at him and felt the rock hard muscles beneath his uniform, and she burst into tears because he was all grown up now and he was a man who didn’t need a mother anymore and he had been in a battle and could have been killed but here he was, growing a beard and laughing and happy, and suddenly she realized again that she could have lost not only her best beloved but Aaron too, but God had been good and brought them both through and oh, Lord, if only Daniel would weather this trial, everything would be all right.

  The joy and relief and the fear washed over her all at once. She laughed and said it was all right, but she could not make herself stop crying. John Willets, who had been in the background of it all, handed her a clean white handkerchief. She hid her face in it while the men looked on nervously. Finally, she waved them all away with a promise to let them see Daniel in the afternoon after Dr. Grainger’s visit.

  Everyone left except Aaron. “Come on, Ma. Let’s walk over to the barracks. The fresh air will do you good, and you can see a little of Fort Phil Kearney.”

  “I’ve seen all of Fort Phil Kearney I care about,” she said, “but a walk will do me good.” She put her arm through Aaron’s and allowed herself to be led away. Behind her, she saw Two Moons slip into the infirmary.

  “Tell me what you know about Two Moons,” she said to Aaron as they walked.

  “Captain Willets seems to think she’s some kind of healer or something. She hasn’t had much to say about herself. She told the captain she had a husband and a child. Apparently the army killed them, although we can’t figure where. Doesn’t seem possible she was at Sand Creek, but from what she said happened, it must have been there. But that was Cheyennes, not Lakota. And she only talks Lakota. She seems a little—odd.”

  “What do you mean, odd?”

  “Like something just isn’t quite right—up here,” he tapped his temple.

  “If her family really died that way,” Gen said quietly, “it’s no wonder. Remember the women in the outbreak—the ones the worst happened to?”

  Aaron was quiet for a moment. “Yes. Of course.” They walked on silently while Gen looked around her. Finally Aaron offered, “She’s amazingly gentle with anything hurt. Animals and people alike. Doesn’t matter which. There was a dog last week that got chewed up pretty good in a fight. Two Moons has it in a box over at the sutler’s and tends it. The thing won’t let anybody but her near it. But it’s tame as Amanda’s lap dog with her.”

  Amanda. So he still thinks about her. Gen shoved the topic of Amanda Whitrock to the back of her mind. “Is that where she’s been—Two Moons, I mean—since I came?”

  Aaron shrugged. “Probably.”

  “Tell me about yourself. John said you were in something they are calling the Wagon Box fight. He said you’re becoming a good soldier.”

  It was all Aaron needed. For the next few minutes he talked nonstop and in that time Genevieve realized, with a sense of dread, that Aaron Dane had indeed found his calling. He was a born soldier. Part of her was filled with regret for the sake of his father, who would no doubt have preferred him to be a missionary. And it almost seemed that he had the heart of a pastor in ways. His faith was strong. He punctuated his speech about the fight with thankfulness to God for protecting him. He even mentioned concern for a few of the men he had gotten to know since being at the fort. It was obvious he had a sense of God’s hand in the details of his life. But Aaron Dane was never going to make a missionary—at least not in the traditional sense of the word.

  They circled around the parade ground and then headed back to the infirmary. As they mounted the steps Two Moons appeared at the door and sidled down the stairs to leave.

  “Wait,” Gen called. “Don’t go.” Frustrated by the language barrier, she asked Aaron to get Picotte to translate for her.

  “What do you want to tell her, Ma?” Aaron said, smiling a boyish smile. “I’ve been learning Lakota.”

  “I just need to thank her. To tell her she must come and visit any time she likes. And I want her to know that my saying the words is not enough.” Gen’s voice wavered. “Somehow I want her to know that when she saved Daniel she gave me back my life. I will never be able to repay her.”

  Aaron began to talk. But he had only spoken a few words when Two Moons held her hand up, interrupting him. She said a few words and touched Gen’s arm. Smiling shyly, she headed for the sutler’s.<
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  Gen watched her go, then turned to Aaron for an explanation.

  “She watched your face when you were talking,” Aaron said. “And she saw Daniel’s face when he realized you were here. There is nothing else to say.”

  “Blue Eyes.”

  It was early afternoon. Gen had closed her eyes and was nearly asleep sitting upright in the chair beside Daniel’s bed. She started awake, and when she opened her eyes he was looking at her with a real smile.

  “Did you make the red dress?”

  Gen nodded and leaned forward to rest her elbows on the edge of the mattress. “Of course. And a blue one. And some shirts for you. And we have money left.”

  But Daniel wasn’t asking for an accounting of the family finances. He was feeling better and his mind had wandered to other things. “Did you remember—about the buttons?” There was a hint of the old Daniel in the brown eyes.

  Gen nodded and blushed.

  He grinned. “Can you help me sit up?”

  ‘When she leaned across him to grab an extra pillow, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck. “I love you, little wife,” he whispered.

  “And I love you,” she said breathlessly, “but Dr. Grainger is due in here any minute and—”

  “Oh, all right,” he muttered, letting go. Wincing and grunting with the effort, he raised up on one elbow so she could tuck an extra pillow behind him. When he was comfortably propped up, he opened his arms to her. “Now come back here,” he ordered, “just for a minute. I promise not to embarrass you in front of the good doctor.”

  Gen closed her eyes while he held her, wondering if it might be the right moment to tell—she felt his arms stiffen. “What? What’s wrong?” she asked. He was looking toward the end of the bed. He pushed her away just enough to see her face. He was frowning as he looked from her, to the bed, and back again. She followed his gaze and sat up.

  “It’s all right, best beloved,” she said, touching his cheek. “You’re going to be fine.”

  “Take the blanket off,” he said between clenched teeth. “Let me see.”

  She slid off the edge of the bed and onto her chair, patting his hand. “This afternoon, Daniel. “When the doctor comes.”

  “Now.” He didn’t look at her at all, but began pulling at the blankets. “I want to see it now.”

  With trembling hands, Gen helped him lift the blankets away. She closed her eyes briefly, then turned her back to the wounds and watched her husband’s face. He frowned as he slowly rubbed the back of his hand against his chin. He grunted and must have tried to lift the stump, because he winced and let out a big breath and lay back against the pillows. He said, “All this time it’s been hurting and it isn’t even there.”

  Gen explained, “Dr. Grainger said it’s called phantom pain. It’s normal.”

  “Normal.” His voice was bitter. “Normal doesn’t quite seem the word to describe it.” He grimaced and looked away. “Cover it up.”

  Gen did what he asked, talking while she arranged the blankets, fluffed his pillow, walked around the end of the bed to pour a glass of water. “Dr. Grainger said he has known men who get along so well you can’t even tell they’ve had it done. Picotte is carving a wooden leg. And if everything looks all right when we change the bandage today, Dr. Grainger said you can get up and—”

  “I want to be alone for a while, Blue Eyes.”

  She set the cup of water down on the table and turned to face him.

  “Please.”

  “All right, best beloved,” she whispered. She kissed his cheek. He grabbed her hand and kissed the palm.

  “You know it doesn’t matter. Not to me,” Gen said.

  He looked up at her. “But it matters to me.”

  She cleared her throat. “We’ll face it together. Like—”

  “Don’t.” His voice was sharp. “Just—don’t, Blue Eyes. Leave me alone now.”

  Gen left.

  Early that afternoon, Elliot visited. He explained phantom pain and proposed that Daniel’s recuperation could be effected much more quickly at Leighton Hall.

  Aaron came and prayed with him.

  Edward Pope brought soup.

  Robert and Big Amos said he and Genevieve should stay with their families on the Niobrara for the winter.

  And Doctor Grainger came, changing the bandage, answering Daniel’s questions, assuring him there was no reason he could not have a good life.

  While everyone was visiting Daniel, Captain John Willets was looking for Genevieve. He found her in the corner of an empty stall in the stables. She was sitting on the hay with her legs drawn up and her arms around her knees. Her head was bowed and she was crying as if her heart would break.

  As for Daniel, after all his visitors left, he longed for Blue Eyes to come back. He wondered if he would ever be the man she needed again. And he, too, cried.

  Twenty-Eight

  Hear my cry, O God; attend unto my prayer. From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For thou hast been a shelter for me, and a tower strong from the enemy.”

  —Psalm 61:1–3

  “Get out! Get out and leave me alone! Just leave me alone!”

  Intending to pay Daniel another visit, Elliot had just reached for the infirmary door handle when he heard his friend yelling at the top of his lungs. But it wasn’t the anger in the voice that kept Elliot from going through the door. It was a memory; the memory of his own seething anger when he woke in a military hospital without his left hand. It was the memory of the fear and desperation that visited every amputee in turn like a dark fog creeping in the hospital ward windows at night and swirling from bed to bed. Some wounded men gave the fog added substance and shrouded themselves in it. These men might leave the hospital healed in body, but they would be forever enveloped in darkness. Others convinced themselves they would be better off dead. Elliot was amazed at how often, in spite of healing wounds, these men died. And then there were the men who fought battles with the darkness and came out victorious. They were the heroes, Elliot thought—the men who accepted the reality of missing limbs as a challenge, conquered their limitations as best they could, and used their experiences to help others. Elliot did not count himself that kind of hero. He had, after all, only lost a hand when others must learn to live without both legs … or, what was worse in his mind, both arms. But in the world of wounded veterans, he was at least what a pastor had once called a wounded healer—someone willing to relive his own horrible history if it would help another.

  When he heard Daniel’s outburst, Elliot waited outside, praying for words to help his friend. The silence on the other side of the door was deafening. Daniel might not be yelling anymore, but Elliot knew that anger wasn’t really the problem anyway. The real problem was the other emotions—the fear and desperation. He’d heard them both in his own voice for months after his hand disappeared with a cannonball at Antietam.

  How long, 0 Lord? He’s been through so much already. Elliot prayed for Daniel. You know all things … I know that You know what You are doing … but forgive my unbelief Father, when I ask, are You sure You know what You are doing … he is young, and he has already endured so much …

  From inside the hospital, Gen’s voice sounded to interrupt Elliot’s prayer. “Please, Daniel. Just let me—”

  Anger once again obscured his fear and desperation as Daniel shouted back, albeit not quite so loudly as before, “I said no! Now go away and leave me alone!” Bitterness crept into his voice. “Go find Captain Willets. He’s what you want, anyway.”

  “What on earth are you—” Now it was Genevieve’s voice that was tinged with fear.

  Accusation was flung into the room. “Don’t think I don’t see you two walking together,” Daniel said.

  Elliot grimaced and formed a prayer for Gen. Help her to stay calm, Lord. You and I both know meeting anger with anger won’t help. He was relieved when he heard the gentle reply.

/>   “I go out to walk around the parade grounds because you won’t let me stay when Dr. Grainger changes your bandage. I don’t see what difference it makes if John Willets—”

  “Since when do you call him John?”

  “He asked me to.” She tried to explain. “Daniel, he saved your life. We owe him—”

  “I may owe him my life,” the voice spat out. “But I don’t owe him my wife.”

  Gen’s voice was still reasonable, but Elliot could hear the frayed emotions just below the surface when she said, “You’re upset. You don’t mean what you’re saying. Please, dear, just let me

  “I said no! Now get out and let me be.”

  Elliot heard footsteps hurrying toward the door. In a moment it was flung open and Gen rushed out of the infirmary, tears streaming down her face. She looked at him with such desperation he could feel sympathetic tears gathering in his own eyes. He opened his arms and Gen collapsed on his shoulder, sobbing.

  “I—don’t—know—what—I—did—”

  “Shhh, Genevieve, shhh,” Elliot patted her shoulder. “You did nothing. It’s him.”

  “But he thinks—”

  “No, he doesn’t. Not really. He’s angry, confused, frightened, and a little desperate. All normal reactions.”

  Gen finished crying. She pushed herself away. Taking a deep breath, she leaned back on the porch railing, then turned away to look off toward the snowcapped mountains. “Well, he isn’t the only one feeling confused and frightened.” She swiped at her cheeks with her palms.

  “Maybe I can help,” Elliot said. “I’ll try.” He put his hand out to pat Gen on the shoulder.

  Gen put her hand over his. She looked up at him, but her lips trembled and tears threatened again, so she just shook her head and turned away.

  “Take all the time you need,” Elliot said gently. “I’ll stay with him until you come back.” He smiled. “I’m bigger than he is. He won’t be throwing me out. In fact, why don’t you go on over to visit with Mrs. Grainger? She can show you that room she thought you and Daniel could use. I suspect you’ll be needing it in the next couple of days.”

  “I—” Gen swallowed hard. “I thought I might go over to the chapel and just—pray.”