Tender savage (29 page)
Realizing the young man had completely misunderstood him, Lars gestured toward the path that led to the carefully tended rose garden at the rear of the hospital. "Come take a walk with me." As Mark fell in beside him, he tried to put the cause for his depression into words that would be more easily understood. "Do not think me unfeeling, for I love my daughter dearly, but there are some ordeals from which a young woman never fully recovers. If Erica has been abused, she may turn away from
all men, even those who love her. It is possible she will not be grateful if you are the one to rescue her. Your presence might only deepen her shame."
Infuriated by the physician's remarks, Mark clasped his hands behind his hack to force back the nearly overwhelming compulsion to throttle Lars Hanson. "If by abuse you mean rape," he began between tightly clenched teeth, "I will show Erica such loving kindness she will soon realize she has no reason to fear me. I would not taunt her with cruel reminders of what she has suffered, but instead provide her with hope for a future filled with love. I wish to God we had been married in June. If we had, then she would not have come to the slightest harm. I will never forgive myself for p>ostponing our wedding. Never. My reasons were simply ludicrous in light of what has happened to her."
"You blame yourself for this, then, and not me? After all, I was the one who insisted she go to New Ulm. You were merely going along with the decision I made," Lars reminded him.
Lars's sorrow was deeply etched in his expression and echoed hollowly in his melancholy tone. Mark was suddenly ashamed of himself for thinking his own pain outweighed his companion's. He reached out to touch Lars's sleeve and draw him to a halt. "Perhaps the idea was yours, but I agreed with it wholeheartedly, and I will deal with the consequences. Do the people in Wilmington know Erica is one of the captives?"
"No," Lars replied without hesitation. "The telegram was sent to my home, but Mrs. Ferguson sent it on to me here unoF)ened. No one can possibly know more than what was printed in the newspapers, and her name wasn't given."
Mark nodded thoughtfully, grateful for that bit of luck. "I'll leave for Minnesota as quickly as I possibly can. Once there, I promise you I will find Erica. Regardless of what has happened to her, and I pray it has not been so horrible as you imagine, we can be married there, and I'll bring her home as my wife. We will never sjDeak of what occurred in Minnesota, and I'll make certain not a breath of scandal is ever attached to her name."
Encouraged by Mark's confident vow, Lars agreed his
plan was a most sensible one. "Yes, I'm sure you're right. The war has caused so much confusion that am Indian uprising in Minnesota will swiftly be forgotten. I'm sorry if I misjudged you, but you must realize not every man would make such a generous offer. There are many who would simply pretend they had never met a young woman, rather than marry her after—"
Mark interrupted then, unable again to listen to the man recite his fears whe he hoped with all his heart they would prove unfounded. "I love your daughter, sir. She swore she would love me no matter what awful thing happened to me during the war. I can treat her no differently."
They had stopped to talk near a wooden bench placed at the edge of the garden. Too weary to remain standing, Lars went over to it, sat down, and leaned forward to cradle his head in his hands. "I hope you do not have to desert, and I also hope you understand why I can't turn my back on my responsibilities here to go with you."
While it would not be easy for Mark to leave the men with whom he had grown close during the many weeks of fighting they had shared, he understood the uniqueness of Lars's situadon. Knowing he had at least a few minutes to spare, he chose to spend them with the man he hoped would soon be his father-in-law. Taking the place at his side, he offered Lars what reassurance he could. "I understand completely. The most difficult part of this war has been hearing the screams of the wounded and knowing I can do nothing to ease their pain. You are needed here far more than I am, for you can alleviate suffering, while I am merely a hastily trained officer who can easily be replaced."
Lars gave a rueful laugh at that compliment. He sat up and crossed his arms over his chest to get comfortable, but he knew he would have to get back to the hospital soon. "All too often I can do little more than allow a man to die in f)eace. How many limbs do you think I amputated while I was in practice in Wilmington?"
Uncertain, Mark shrugged, but gave the best guess he could. "I have no idea, perhaps two or three?"
Lars shook his head. "None. I never saw anyone so severely injured as to require amputation. But here, I have
lost
Mark could readily see how tired Lars was, for his fatigue showed clearly in his slumped pose and dejected expression. He was not yet forty, but looked a good ten years older than his actual age that day. "This war has been hard on us all. I had only a vague idea of what serving in the army would be like when I enlisted. I knew the Union's cause was a just one, but I find it impossible to think of causes when men are dying by the thousands and an end to the war is not even in sight."
Lars heard his own bitterness voiced so loudly in Mark's words he couldn't listen to any more. "Put the war out of your mind, if you can. Just go to Minnesota, find Erica, and bring her home." Forcing himself to return to duty, he rose to his feet and straightened his shoulders proudly. "Tell her I've given up my reliance on brandy. That should please her. She was always too sweet to call me a drunk to my face, but that's all I've been since her mother died. Or rather, that's all I was until I came here and found I'd have to use a saw more often than a scalpel. The least I can do for my patients is to be sober, and unfortunately, all too often that's all I can do."
As Mark stood, he doubted brandy would be of any help if he lost his beloved Erica. The pain of not knowing she was safe was so excruciating, he knew if he found her dead his life would no longer be worth living. Feeling a kinship bom of their mutual despair, he grabbed Lars in an enthusiastic bear hug. "I'll find her, sir. I promise I will."
While Lars could not recall the last time someone had tried to comfort him in so physical a fashion, he found Mark's hearty embrace not unpleasant and smiled as the young man pulled away. "I'm sure you will. Take care of yourself, and send word the minute you have news of any kind."
"I'll do that," Mark agreed, and cheered that he had Lars's support, he bid him farewell, confident he would have good news soon. With a determined gait he went to demand rather than request a leave so he could rescue the woman he loved more dearly than life itself. To his amazement, he found General Pope had just been
reassigned to Minnesota as commander of the newly created Military Department of the Northwest and given the task of battling the Sioux. While the general felt he was being banished and angrily protested his transfer, Mark was the first officer to volunteer to accompany him to his new headquarters in St. Paul. And soon after their arrival there, the earnest lieutenant left for Fort Ridgely, carrying a message from the general to Henry Sibley that encouraged the colonel to vigorously pursue the Indians and bring the uprising to a swift end.
Sibley had more need for lieutenants than for stirring messages. The loss of nearly one hundred horses at Birch Coulee and the departure of most of his volunteer cavalry had left him with too few mounted troops to challenge the Sioux. When two hundred seventy newly paroled infantrymen of the Third Minnesota Regiment who had been taken prisoner in July in Tennessee had arrived on September 13, their officers were still Confederate prisoners. "I can send someone else to carry messages back and forth to Pope. I need officers too badly here to let you go," he quickly advised Mark.
Since he had prepared several convincing arguments to make his stay at the fort sound imperative, Mark quite naturally agreed. "I'll be proud to serve under your command, sir. My fiancee is being held by the Sioux, and the sooner this cursed uprising is over, the sooner we can be married."
"Good Lx)rd," Sibley moaned sympathetically. "I had no idea." At a loss for words, since he had made no progress toward the captives' release, he shook his head sadly. Then, knowing he had no way to guarantee the young woman's safety or anyone else's either, he said a silent prayer for her and explained to Mark how his presence would enhance her chances for survival.
On September 19, when Colonel Sibley left Fort. Ridgely, Mark had been promoted to the rank of captain and given command of one of the companies of the Third Minnesota. With nine companies of the Sixth Regiment, five companies of the Seventh, a company of the Ninth, thirty-eight Renville Rangers, twenty-eight mounted citizen guards, and sixteen citizen artillerymen, there was a total of 1,619 men. The missionary. Reverend Stephen R.
Riggs, went along as the group's chaplain, while the Indian who had saved so many white lives at the Upper Agency, John Other Day, served as the scout.
Following the government road toward the Upper Agency, the determined group marched for four days to reach Lone Tree Lake, which they mistook for Wood Lake, which lay farther west. Three miles below the agency, they camped on the shores of the lake on the night of September 22. A stream flowing from the lake had cut a deep ravine to the northeast, and the Sixth Minnesota camped to the left of it. The Third Minnesota took the crest of the ravine opposite them, while the Seventh took a position at the rear forming a triangular encampment. Mistakenly believing the Sioux were farther north. Colonel Sibley chose to post the guards close to their positions. Little Crow, with a force of between seven nundred and twelve hundred braves, was only a few miles to the north, however. The chief considered attacking the troops at night, but decided it would be far wiser to wait until the next day when the soldiers would be strung out along the road as they continued their march.
At dawn, the Indians were hidden in the tall grass at the side of the road when several enterprising men of the Third Minnesota Regiment who had left the camp without permission came rolling by in wagons. Intent upon gathering potatoes from the fields at the Upper Agency to add variety to their meager rations of salt pork, hardtack, and black coffee, they had not considered their errand dangerous. When the wagons strayed off the curving road to make better time, the Indians had no choice but to rise up and fire their weapons to avoid being run over.
Hearing gunfire as the wagons inadvertently triggered the ambush, Mark was as confused as the other officers as to what had happened. Before any orders could be given, many soldiers had picked up their rifles and gone running to their friends' aid. The Indians withdrew momentarily as the Third Minnesota made their daring, if unauthorized, advance; then the braves gathered their forces to attack the army's flank. Sibley immediately recalled the Third and ordered fire from a six-pound cannon to blanket the ravine before companies of the Sixth and
Seventh regiments opened fire to keep the area clear.
After two hours of fighting, in which seven soldiers died and thirty-three were wounded, the Indians withdrew, carrying with them the body of Chief Mankato, who had failed to dodge a cannon ball. They left the bodies of fourteen others behind. Sibley claimed the battle of Wood Lake, misnamed because of the confusion as to their location, so decisive a victory that he accurately predicted the Sioux would not attack the army again. While he would have preferred to pursue the fleeing Indians, he lacked sufficient cavalry troops to do so, and he remained at Lone Tree Lake for two days to care for the wounded.
Fearing that Little Crow might kill the captives if he returned victorious from his latest battle. Christian Indians and others friendly to whites moved them into the camp of Chief Red Iron, who had vowed to keep Little Crow and his braves off his land. They were prepared to defend the captives, but when Little Crow returned after suffering another defeat, he gave no thought to the captives' fate. Along with the Chiefs Shakopee, Red Middle Voice, and Medicine Bottle, Little Crow and many of his followers gathered their families and left for the Dakotas, where they thought they could elude the army as easily as the renegade Inkpaduta had done.
Wabasha, Red Iron, and Taopi, along with Gabriel Renville, an influential man of mixed blood, sent a mixed-blood prisoner, Joseph Campbell, to inform Henry Sibley that the captives were safe and that the army should advance to receive them. The troops left Lone Tree Lake on September 25 and marched fifteen miles past the Hazel wood Mission, which had been the Reverend Riggs's home. There they found a hundred and fifty lodges filled with Indians from Wabasha's and Taopi's camps, plus numerous Lower Sioux, who, knowing the war was lost, were prepared to surrender.
While Mark Randall readily understood Colonel Sibley's desire to enter the Indian camp in dress uniforms to the accompaniment of their drummers' loud and stirring cadence, the wait until two on the afternoon of September 26 was sheer agony for him. He cared nothing for colorful flags, elaborate ceremony, or the stern speech Sibley delivered to impress the Sioux that those guilty of
participating in the uprising would be severely punished. He wanted only to see Erica, to hold her in his arms, and make her his wife before the day was out. He had been so encouraged by the news that Christian Indians had protected the white prisoners during their captivity that he had already asked the Reverend Riggs to perform their marriage ceremony. Yet when he saw the first of those being released, his heart fell. Even though the women and children were weeping for joy, their faces were gaunt, the thinness of their bodies clear evidence of how close they had come to starvation. After nearly six weeks of captivity, their clothing had been reduced to such tattered shreds that many of the soldiers were prompted to remove their coats and give them to the women ratner than allow them to continue going about nearly naked.