A Heart for Home (9 page)

Joshua looked after him and headed for the boardinghouse. More decisions to make. Sometimes he wished he were back on the traveling crew that dug wells and erected windmills. Less pressure and less people. He had run the first crew with Trygve and Gilbert. Built the wagon too. Life on the road like that had been good. But when Thorliff asked him to leave that and head the construction crew, he’d agreed. The pay was better, but mostly, he’d be near Astrid. Until he blew up at her over the Indian question. But still, his greatest wish was for Astrid to overlook his failings and agree to become his wife. Maybe he should just walk away from all this and go down to South Dakota and talk with her. If he had an address he would write a letter, but as far as he knew, they might be back before a letter could reach them – if he even could find an address. Sometimes the mountain called despair pitched too steeply to continue to climb. Why, oh why, had he allowed his temper to take over?

7

R
OSEBUD
I
NDIAN
R
ESERVATION
S
OUTH
D
AKOTA

Why did two weeks feel like an eternity?

Astrid gazed around the infirmary, where three children sat listening to Shy Fawn tell a story while Gray Smoke kept changing the wet cloths on the latest measles victim. Along with her measles patients, she had two people with eye problems and one with an ear infection, along with the brave, who was improving, but they still struggled to keep his coughing under control.

She’d asked her father to build a slanted board so He Who Walks Tall could sit up a bit and breathe more easily. When that helped, he built two more and padded them with hides. An older woman was using one, and the other was shared among several of the others. If only she could hold the adults over a steaming kettle as she did the children. Once they were strong enough to stand, she demonstrated what to do, and they did it.

Her attention kept returning to He Who Walks Tall, whose pallet was separated from the others. Haakan had taken over caring for him to free up the two women who’d worked so tirelessly. What good nurses they would make for Dr. Red Hawk when he returned. If only she could take them with her to Blessing and give them some real training in medical procedures, like dressing wounds, listening to hearts and lungs, and assisting in surgeries. She also wished she could learn what they knew. If only they had an interpreter. If only she had learned the language from Metiz. She turned at the hacking cough that had awakened the brave.

Going out to the kettle simmering on the edge of the fire pit, she dipped out some soup and carried the gourd back to him. “Drink this. It seems to help.”

He reached for the gourd.

“I’m grateful you understand me.”

Dark eyes studied her over the rim of the drinking gourd. Red Hawk all over again. When the man gave an abrupt nod, she smiled and nodded back. “Good. I am hoping you can help me.”

His eyes changed, as if shutters had slammed down over windows.

So much for that idea. “Do you know Red Hawk?”

A nod and more drinking. He cleared his throat and drank again.

“Are you related to him?”

Another nod.

“I wondered, because you so strongly remind me of him.”
Please,
Lord, let him be willing to help us.
“A brother?” She’d have missed the shake of his head had she not been watching him, albeit as unobtrusively as possible. “Cousin?”

“Yes.”

Why would hearing just one spoken word feel like she’d received a medal? “Red Hawk will be a good doctor to his people. He is the one who asked us to come. He wrote a letter, saying that measles, the spotted sickness, was killing his people and asked if we could come. So we did.”

“White man’s disease.”

“I know. So many have died. I am so sorry.” She took the empty gourd he handed her. “Would you like more?”

A nod.

She rose to her feet and returned to the kettle, near where her father was splitting wood. “He can speak English, as I suspected. He is a cousin of Red Hawk.”

“Good. That should be a help.”

“It makes me wonder if more of them speak English too but are refusing to do so. And if that’s the case, why?”

“This is one of the bands that hid out in the Black Hills after the massacre at Wounded Knee. They were without supplies for a long time, and when they finally came to Rosebud . . . well, it has taken a long time to catch up. Then the troubles they had with the first Indian agent who was assigned to this area. They don’t have much respect for the white man.”

Astrid heaved a sigh. “And now this epidemic. Trust that is lost is hard to regain.”

Haakan refilled her gourd. “Our government has a lot to be ashamed of. I am glad we can bring the Indians some help now. They need to get back to school. There used to be local schools wherever there were enough families to warrant one. This band is so small. . . .” He shook his head. “Mr. Moore has a lot to overcome.”

“When will supplies arrive again?”

“He’s hoping next week.”

“The land here is so barren, how will they plant gardens? Will wheat grow here?”

“I don’t think so. There’s not enough rain. Cattle and sheep are about all that can survive here.”

“Do you think this creek flows year-round?”

He shrugged and turned to answer a question from Johnny Solberg.

Astrid took the gourd back to He Who Walks Tall. But when she found him asleep, she didn’t wake him. They could talk later. Instead, she dumped the soup back in the kettle and scrubbed the gourd. Metal cups were far easier to sterilize, but they had so few. Where did the Indians buy things and what did they use for money? She had so many questions and most had no answers.

When Mr. Moore hailed her, she turned with a smile. “Good morning.”

“Dr. Bjorklund, I’ve been meaning to talk with you.” He joined her at the fire. “How is He Who Walks Tall faring? He has been silent, not forthcoming with me. After Chief Night Hawk died at the beginning of this epidemic, the tribe chose Dark Cloud as temporary chief. He Who Walks Tall is to become their permanent chief. He can speak English but would rather not.”

“Do you have any idea how many of the tribe are still alive?”

“Depending on how those still in your care will fare, I’d say thirty-five, forty. This is not a large enough group to have a station here, but . . .” A faraway look came into his eyes. He brought himself back. “We will do what we can.”

“What about a school here?”

“I asked for that too.” He studied the fire and then turned back to her. “My list of requisitions was long. I’m not sure how much of it I will receive. I am writing a letter to go along with my next request for supplies. Are there items you would like to request?”

Astrid swallowed her surprise. “You mean besides sufficient food so the people are no longer starving?” At his slight backward step, she bit off the remainder of her diatribe. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair to you. I do understand that you are doing all you are able.”

When his shoulders relaxed, she continued. “Red Hawk will be returning soon, and it would be good to have things like bandages, carbolic acid, sutures, needles, surgical supplies, sheets, blankets, and perhaps an examining table.”

“I am not certain he will be returning to this portion of the reservation. The government will most likely assign him to the Rosebud station. I don’t know if there is a doctor there now or not.”

She had a feeling that Red Hawk would make sure these people were cared for. “Would they do better to move closer to the station themselves?”

“I suggested that.”

“I see.” From his frown she realized the elders did not take well to Mr. Moore’s opinion. “Would you like me to write up a list of medical supplies?”

He almost smiled. “Yes, thank you. I will put it in the mailbag that goes back with the lead driver.” He started to leave and then turned back. “Mrs. Moore would be delighted if you could join her for tea this afternoon. I know she is wishing for female companionship.”

Thinking before she spoke was a trait her mother had long sought to instill in Astrid. “Ah . . . um . . . Tell her thank you, and I’ll see her about three, if that would be all right.” Since none of her patients was critical, she had no excuse. After all, she’d turned down two invitations to dinner, pleading her patients’ care came before socializing. Her far was talking about leaving in a few days, so she’d better make an appearance again.

When He Who Walks Tall awoke, she thought the better of serving him herself and asked Pastor Solberg if he would see if he could get the brave talking. Solberg had spent much of his time with the elders, seeking to build the kind of relationship that could allow continued assistance. He and Haakan and Mr. Moore had spent hours in discussion also.

“Of course,” Solberg answered. “You know that keeping this young man from dying is a real feather in your hat.”

“As if I want a feather in my hat?” She motioned to the flat straw hat she wore because the sunbonnet was far too hot.

He chuckled at her sally. “You have done well, my dear doctor.”

“We have all worked around the clock to return these poor blighted people to some kind of health. I’m sure the epidemic would not have been so severe were they not starving too.”

“They have no resistance to the white man’s diseases, as you and I have discussed. Smallpox wiped out hundreds of thousands of native people.”

“It wasn’t too good for the whites either.”

“True.” He filled the gourd with the soup and headed for the infirmary.

Astrid washed herself, redid her hair, and donned a clean apron to go visit Mrs. Moore. At the last moment she removed the apron and shook the dust off her skirt. To be proper, she pinned a brooch at her neck, wishing for a mirror. She would have to make do with what she had.

When she knocked at the door, Ann, the young Indian woman, answered. “Mrs. Moore expecting you. This way.”

Astrid followed her. Ann must have learned some English at school before the massacre. Everything seemed to be tagged to before or after the massacre. At least in her opinion. Interesting the difference in her attitude now and her attitude when she’d read of it in the newspaper. It was even different from when Red Hawk had told her about it.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Bjorklund.” Mrs. Moore greeted her from a chair in the shaded room, fanning herself all the while. With the drapes drawn and the windows closed, the room felt like a steamer.

Why didn’t the woman sit out on the back porch in the shade, where a breeze would feel cooler?

“Good afternoon.”

“I hope you brought a fan along. This heat is dreadful.”

“What if we were to move the chairs outside on the back porch in the shade? At home that is the favorite gathering place in the summer.”

“Oh no. The flies are dreadful. And the dust blows something awful. Why, my face would wrinkle up like an old prune.” She fanned harder.

“If I might make a suggestion, from a medical point of view of course?”

Mrs. Moore shrugged.

Astrid sat in a chair and leaned forward. “Life on the prairie is a far cry from life in the cities.” She almost smiled at the rolled-eye response. “Please, put away the corset and the petticoats. You should be wearing lightweight dresses, with one petticoat at the most. You might get heatstroke otherwise.” She stopped before saying anything about the woman’s powdered face. She had read that the white powder could be poisonous.

“But Mr. Moore needs a wife who represents the finer things of life. Fashion and art, music and dancing. As my mother’s letters constantly remind me, it is important for me to keep up appearances, to provide him a home that is a respite from the terrible conditions he is working under.” She shook her head, perhaps to disguise the quiver of her chin. “No matter how difficult it is for me.”

“I see.” But she didn’t. “How old are you?” The question popped out.

Mrs. Moore raised her chin. “Why, I am twenty years old, if it is of any matter to you.”

She is trying too hard. Surely there is a soft spot inside her, if I could
only find it
. Astrid smiled. “Why, you and I are much the same age.”

“How did you become a doctor so quickly?”

“I studied with our local doctor and then in Chicago.” She leaned forward. “I am fully accredited.”

“And you came here to treat these Indians. Why?”

“Because a friend of mine from medical school, Dr. Red Hawk, asked me to.”

“I don’t see how anyone, a woman especially, would choose to come here.” Mrs. Moore leaned back in her chair. “I just don’t.”

Astrid was forced again to not say what she was thinking. “It is a shame that you cannot enjoy the people your husband is working so hard to help.”

“Enjoy?” The fan picked up speed. “What is there to enjoy out here in this desolate place?”

“Have you ridden out over the hills, watched a sunrise or sunset, heard the meadowlarks singing, planted some flower seeds and watered them carefully so that you could have fresh flowers, especially ones that smell good?” She ignored the shaking head and continued. “In the spring the daisies bloom to cover the hills with robes of white and green. There might be wild strawberries. They are so sweet and so tiny that it takes a lot to make strawberry shortcake, but it is so worth the time and effort. The women of the tribe would know where the wild things grow.”

She paused and heaved a sigh. The look on Mrs. Moore’s face would be funny if it weren’t so sad.
Aghast
would fit.
Horrified
too.

“Your tea is ready,” Ann said, stopping in the doorway with the tray in her hands, waiting for acknowledgment.

“Set it here.” Mrs. Moore indicated the round table in front of them.

Astrid watched as Ann crossed the rug-covered floor and set the silver tray carefully on the table. The tray bumped a porcelain figurine that might have toppled to the floor were it not for Astrid’s quick catch.

“I told you I don’t know how many times to be more careful,” Mrs. Moore hissed. “Clumsy.” She glared at her maid.

“Sorry.” Ann’s face went blank, as if she’d just stepped out of her skin and left the room.