Walks the Fire (26 page)

Even as she said the words, Jesse wondered how she would fulfill the promise. How could a camp laundress hope to get around the corporal to command any influence with the captain?

Talks a Lot remained expressionless, but Jesse noted the flicker of thanks in his eyes.

Donovan nodded in agreement with her speech and smiled confidently. Prairie Flower ducked her head to avoid smiling at his foolishness.

“Good,” Donovan said, smacking the palm of his hand with his quirt. “Now, let’s go.” His unit shoved the Indians across the compound.

“Corporal,” Jesse asked, “could not the woman stay with me?”

“Mrs. King,” Donovan sneered, “these here are official pris’ners of the U.S. Government. I can’t be handin’ ’em over to just anyone who feels sorry for ’em.” He paused a moment and looked Jesse over, “’sides, I don’t know just how friendly you was with them Injuns a-fore. How’d I know you wouldn’t help ’em escape?”

Jesse’s cheeks flushed at the veiled insult, but she controlled her temper. “Surely as a gentleman you wouldn’t expect a lone woman to remain locked up with the men.”

Donovan’s lips curled up. “Ma’am, these is Injuns we’re talkin’ about. I don’t think it’ll be a problem to keep ’em all together. It’s not like they was white folks with real morals and all.” Donovan enjoyed the return of the angry flush to Jesse’s cheeks. His curiosity was piqued. It had been a boring spring, and he had relished fighting Indians. Now this woman’s relationship with the Sioux added a new dimension to the whole affair. Things were looking up.

Donovan stared down again at Jesse’s moccasins. Involuntarily, she tucked her toes back under her skirts.

“Good-day, ma’am,” he said to Jesse, touching the riding whip to the bill of his cap and turning his rotund back on her. Jesse saw Prairie Flower cover her scarred face from the curious eyes of the fort residents who had gathered to stare at the Indians. Talks a Lot walked proudly along, his long gray hair flowing over his shoulders, his head held high.

Jesse returned to her work, hushing LisBeth’s questions with unusual sternness as she wondered how she could help her friends. She wondered and prayed for the rest of the day as she worked in the laundry. No answer came. She continued to wonder and worry through supper with LisBeth, who noticed that her mother was unusually quiet.

As the sun went down, Jesse settled into her rocker by the fireplace, reached for her quilting, and prayed desperately for wisdom to reason out how she might help Talks a Lot and Prairie Flower.
And Lord,
she added,
give me time to ask about Soaring Eagle—Lord, I must know.

“Mama, how did that Indian get the scar on her face?” LisBeth’s voice interrupted Jesse’s musings.

“I’ll tell you another time.”

“Mama, do you know the one with the long gray hair?”

“Yes.”

“How did you learn to talk like them?”

No answer.

LisBeth had never been shut out from her mother’s thoughts so completely. Bewildered, and a little angry, she noisily made preparations for going to bed. She huffed and puffed and rattled about the small room, finally settled onto her cot, and surprised herself by falling immediately asleep.

As soon as she saw that LisBeth was asleep, Jesse jumped up and went to the door. The horizon was fading to pale pink, and above the rim of the sunset in the violet-blue sky hung one star and a crescent moon.
The giant in the sky sleeps… but look, he has opened one eye to peer down at us
. Jesse leaned against the door to her room and sighed as she remembered how Rides the Wind had once described the moon to Two Mothers before that awful day he became Soaring Eagle.

Memories of her other life assaulted her, jumbling her thoughts and making it difficult to plan. She longed for the hostility between the whites and the Indians to end. She wondered how to help her old friends, and she prayed for a way to introduce LisBeth to her true heritage without jeopardizing her future.

Taking another deep breath at the impossibility of it all, Jesse turned toward the low fire, sat down again in the creaking rocker, and reached for her sewing basket. Her fingers pressed the seams of a few quilt blocks flat as she thought about her predicament. Rescuing a scrap of cloth from the floor beside the sewing basket, she folded and cut a tiny calico triangle and began stitching it to the end of the long row of triangular pieces already in her lap. The monotony of stitching soon calmed her, and she began to think more clearly, assessing her new situation, planning how to proceed when daylight came.

The last few stitches in the row had been taken and Jesse had bent to fold the row of patchwork back into her basket when Prairie Flower burst through the door. Sobbing, the woman threw herself at Jesse’s feet. The sound of boots stomping the hard earth just outside the door preceded Corporal Donovan’s appearance. His swaying form filled the doorway. Drunken voices from the group of soldiers with him added to the din.

Jesse stood up, her wide skirt partially hiding Prairie Flower from view. She had taken in enough of her friend’s gasping cries to understand.

Calmly, Jesse bent over to pick up the quilt pieces that had fallen to the floor. Steady hands belied her pounding heart. LisBeth had awakened and lay wide-eyed, staring over the edge of her coverlet. Her dark eyes went from Prairie Flower, to Donovan, then to her mother.

Jesse collected the quilt pieces slowly. A glint of steel reflected in the light from the fireplace. She picked up her sewing scissors and straightened to face Donovan. At her side was a fist clenched around the scissors. Donovan could see the knuckles of her right hand whiten as she held tightly to the scissors, pointing the blades upward like a weapon. Her voice was steady.

“Corporal Donovan. Is there a problem?”

The drunken men behind Donovan were suddenly quiet, and the corporal’s rumbling voice drawled out a reply. “Only problem here is that squaw… what don’t know her place in the worl’… and what runs away when we wuz jus’ tryin’ to be frien’ly.”

Prairie Flower shuddered and muttered an oath under her breath. Jesse’s gray eyes looked coolly at each man standing behind Donovan. Finally, after a long silence, her eyes met his. “Perhaps she has seen the white man’s attempts at friendliness in the past. Perhaps she does not wish to be friends with you.”

Donovan belched loudly, scratched under his arm and swore a reply. Jesse was aware of LisBeth’s moving as she drew her feet up beneath her. The child curled up into a tight ball beneath the covers and covered her face. Prairie Flower’s sobs quieted, and she sat listening.

“Is this woman a prisoner of the U.S. Army?” Jesse asked.

“Pris’ner?... No, she ain’t no pris’ner. She jus’ straggled along when we brought in that worthless bunch of savages.”

“Then she is free to go if she wishes? Surely the U.S. Army does not require that you guard an innocent woman. Surely the captain would not wish you to detain her against her wishes.”

Donovan thrust his jaw out and squinted at her. “Why d’you care ’bout a dirty ol’ squaw, anyhow? She ain’t no prize catch, neither… face all scarred up. You want her, you can have her fer all I care.” He turned his great form sideways and said it louder. “I don’ care nothin’ fer a dirty ol’ squaw anyhow.” The men with Donovan began to disperse.

Jesse’s heart lurched, and she prayed that Donovan could not see her hand tremble as she gripped the scissors more tightly. She remained standing, staring at the corporal, listening as he tried to talk himself out of the confrontation. The threat to report him to the captain had worked. He might be drunk, but he was no fool, and he knew that his future in the army depended on the opinion of his commanding officer.

Jesse ended his ramblings with, “Good evening, Corporal. Thank you for bringing Prairie Flower to me. I will see that she has a comfortable place to rest tonight, and we will certainly meet you in the morning at the commander’s office to decide on her future. You are to be commended for your interest in improving Indian relations.” As she spoke, Jesse stepped forward, grasped the back of the heavy door to her room, and threatened to shove it shut in Donovan’s face. He retreated with a noncommittal oath at his men. Jesse closed the door and leaned against it, trembling.

The air in the room was stale, filled with the stench of Donovan’s unwashed body and the liquor he had spilled on himself during the night’s drunken party.

LisBeth sat upright, lowered the coverlet, and stared at Prairie Flower. The woman returned her stare. Then, understanding lit her eyes. They glowed warmly as she said softly, “This one has the eyes of her father.”

Jesse understood, but was slow to answer. “Yes, the eyes of her father. And when she laughs, sometimes I think I am hearing Soaring Eagle.”

LisBeth started to speak, but Jesse stopped her. “LisBeth,” she ordered, “you must be still now. Prairie Flower and I must talk of what can be done. I cannot translate for you. It has been too long, and I cannot remember the words well enough. It will be hard for me to talk, and you must be quiet.”

Jesse crouched on the floor beside Prairie Flower and whispered, “I must know, Prairie Flower. Tell me of Soaring Eagle.
Why
did he not come for me? What has become…”

Prairie Flower interrupted her. “When Old One awoke and sounded the alarm, the storm had already begun.”

Jesse rejoiced—Old One had not been killed!

“Soaring Eagle and the other hunters were trapped by the blizzard. It was many days before they returned. Still, Soaring Eagle mounted a fresh pony and vowed to bring you back. The snow was so deep in the Gate of the Buffalo that his pony could find no way through. He tried again and again to break through. At last, the elders convinced him that as soon as the snow melted, a search party of our finest trackers would be sent out.”

Prairie Flower paused and smiled grimly, “Many days later the melting snow uncovered Howling Wind. We thought then that he had killed you and Red Star. There was no trail to follow.”

Jesse begged for more. “Tell me of Soaring Eagle. Tell me of my son.”

LisBeth hugged her knees and watched the two women. Never had she heard such a tone in her mother’s voice. She sounded happy, and sad, and almost desperate, all at once.
What could they be talking about?

“When he thought that you were lost, when
we
thought that you were lost, we mourned greatly, Walks the Fire. Soaring Eagle cut off his braids and sang the mourning song.”

Jesse eagerly asked more questions. “And now? Where is he? Was he in the battle? Does he fight the soldiers?”

Prairie Flower held up her hand to hold back the barrage of questions. “He is a hunter—not a warrior. But now the whites take more and more. Many hunters must become warriors. Soaring Eagle remembers that a white woman was his mother. It is hard for him.”

With a glance toward LisBeth, Prairie Flower continued, “I will tell him of his sister and of Walks the Fire. You can tell her,” Prairie Flower said, nodding toward LisBeth, “that Soaring Eagle her brother has become a great hunter, like her father.”

Jesse whispered reluctantly, “My friend, I have not told her that she is one of your people.” She hurried to defend herself, “We are among the whites now, and they would not be kind to her if they knew.”

Prairie Flower’s soft brown eyes blinked rapidly as she replied, “There is no shame in being the daughter of Rides the Wind. There is no shame in being the sister of Soaring Eagle.”

Jesse faltered. “I know, but…” Then she tried to make an excuse. “I
do
tell her of her father. I do not mention the people, that is all.”

Prairie Flower exclaimed, “She thinks her father was
white?
She thinks her father was that man you were with before you came to us?”

Jesse nodded.

“So. You have taken the memories that belong to Rides the Wind and given them to a worthless
white man?”

Emotions Jesse had struggled with for years, emotions she thought she had long since forgotten, welled up. Memories she had prayed that God would take away flooded the room. Jesse pushed them away, one by one, into the tiny cubicles reserved for the past in her mind.

Jesse wanted to ask more. She wanted to know about Old One. But LisBeth had been quiet for as long as she could. “Mama, how do you say her name?”

Grateful for the change in subject, Jesse helped LisBeth pronounce the Lakota words. Then she pronounced Lis-Beth’s name for Prairie Flower, who smiled and offered her hand to the child as she said, “LisBeth.”

“Mama,” LisBeth asked, “do you think the captain will help Prairie Flower? Will he let her friends go?”

“The captain is a good man, LisBeth, but Talks a Lot and the other braves were fighting with the soldiers. I fear he will be forced to punish them. Prairie Flower has done nothing wrong, but she will never leave her father alone here.”

As she talked, Jesse retrieved her tiny quilting needle from her sewing basket and began trying to mend the rip in Prairie Flower’s garment. It was useless. The tiny needle couldn’t begin to puncture the deerskin. Jesse pulled her only other dress off the hook where it hung behind the door and offered it to her friend. Prairie Flower shook her head, but Jesse urged her.

“It was
your
dress I wore when I became the wife of Rides the Wind. Now I return the kindness.”

Prairie Flower hesitated between her abhorrence for anything from the whites, most of which was connected in her mind with their cruelty, and the kindness of this woman who had been her friend.

Necessity won out. She accepted the dress and donned it awkwardly, struggling with the detailed closures, muttering against the flowing skirts and long sleeves.

When she was dressed, the two women stood looking at one another. Prairie Flower spoke first. “The man you speak of—this captain—if this man were kind, he would not be defending the people who take the land where we have hunted. He would know that the Great Mystery gave us the land. He would not send his men to kill women and children. I will go to Talks a Lot now. They have put him and the others behind a door that will not open. I must find a way to get them out so that we can make our way back to the people.” She was out the door and had disappeared into the darkness before Jesse could stop her.