Heart of the Sandhills (10 page)

“Where will we go?” she wanted to know.

“Probably Fort Wadsworth in Dakota.”

“Tell me about it.”

He told her what he could remember about the fort, built only a few years ago to defend the border of the civilized settlements against hostile Sioux from the West. “There was talk among some of the Christian scouts of starting a church two years ago. But Dakota is a hard place to live. And the fort—well, the fort can be terrible. There is always the call to drinking and wild living, and many of the men will answer it.”

“You won’t,” Gen said quickly.

“By God’s grace, I will not,” he agreed. “But everything there is different from what we have known.” He took a deep breath. “Dakota is a barren land compared to Minnesota, Blue Eyes. I have ridden for days at a time and never seen a tree. Can you imagine what that will be like after living all your life near the Big Woods?”

“I shall plant trees,” Gen said.

“What if it means you don’t get to see Meg or Hope next year? I don’t know if Elliot and Jane will want to bring them to such a wild place. Especially if there is trouble with the hostile Sioux out there.”

“We will write letters and they will understand.” She kissed his cheek. “And when they do finally come, I’ll pray they have a little brother or sister to meet.” She snuggled next to him, singing softly, “Cling fast to me, you’ll ever have a plenty, cling fast to me, and you’ll ever have a plenty, cling fast to me.”

Daniel nuzzled her ear. “Where did you learn that, little wife? Dakota men sing that when they are courting.”

“My father used to sing it to my mother when I was little,” she said. “I used to dream of a tall, handsome stranger carrying me away on a white horse while he sang that song.”

Daniel sang back to her, “Wherever we choose, together we’ll dwell . . . mother so says.” Then he changed the words, laughing softly. “Wherever we choose, together we’ll dwell, Blue Eyes so says.” He teased her. “And all the time I thought the Scriptures told the wife to be submissive to the husband.”

“They do,” Gen said. “But God also told Abraham to listen to his wife Sarah on occasion.”

“Once,” Daniel said. “He said that
once
.”

“Then this will be our ‘once,’ was the answer. “The one time you listen to me will be now, when I say you must not send me away.” She raised her head off his shoulder. “Do you think we could convince Robert and Nancy to come with us to Fort Wadsworth instead of going to Nebraska?”

“I think, little wife,” Daniel said quietly, “that you have done quite enough plotting for one night.” He kissed her fiercely, and for a few moments in the night neither threats from neighbors, nor barren lands, nor Robert, nor Nancy, mattered in the least.

The wicked in his pride doth persecute the poor . . .

—Psalm 10:2

“I’m sorry, Papa,” Polly Marsh pleaded, cowering away from her father. “I won’t say it again.”

“See that you don’t,” Abner snapped. Releasing his hold on Polly’s upper arm he shoved her away. “I don’t want to hear any more about Aaron Dane! I put up with it long enough and now I’m puttin’ my foot down.” He glared at his wife. “The Marshes don’t have nothin’ to do with Injun lovers. Let Marjorie Grant take care of her own brats. And tell that boy if he comes snooping around my daughter again, I’ll set my dogs on him!”

“Oh, Abner,” Sally said, clucking her tongue. “Mrs. Grant just wanted the girls to watch the twins for the afternoon. She didn’t want to burden Genevieve and Nancy, what with Nancy’s baby coming any day now. Aaron’s driving her by on their way into New Ulm. You let the girls go to the Grants’ before. ‘What’s wrong with—?”

Before Sally could finish the sentence, Abner slapped her. “I’ll not have my own wife disrespecting me in front of my own daughters!” he growled.

Sally lifted her hand to her cheek and stared at her husband in terrified silence. When Polly began to cry, Abner turned toward her in fury. Sally grabbed her daughter and pulled her close. “I’m all right, Polly. Papa didn’t mean it.”

“I did mean it!” Abner leered at them both. “And you’ll get worse if you don’t learn to respect me and do as I say!” He bolted from the house and disappeared behind, the barn.

Trembling, Sally Marsh sank into a chair. Polly pumped cold water onto a rag and handed it to her mother, who lay it over her cheek where a purplish hue was already beginning to color the swollen place just above her left cheekbone.

“What’s wrong with Papa?” Polly croaked, handing her mother a glass of water and sinking into the chair beside her. “He—he’s been letting you go to quilting with those women. And he let Mr. Lawrence finish the railing. I thought he
liked
Aaron. What’s wrong now?”

“I don’t know,” Sally managed before tears spilled down her cheeks. She closed her eyes. “Just do as Papa says, Polly. Don’t argue with him. Things will be better if we just do as he says.” She stood up. “Get your sister and the two of you go on out and feed the chickens. When you come back in, if I’m not up, come and get me. I’m just going to go lie down for a minute and collect myself.”

Without waiting for her daughter to answer, Sally wobbled up the stairs and collapsed on her bed, terrified. It was coming true. Everything her parents had warned her about was happening. They had told her of Abner’s father’s dark moods, of his raging temper.
But Abner isn’t like that
, Sally had insisted.
He’s the sweetest, gentlest boy. He never gets angry
. And by the end of the month Sally had run off with Abner. That had been well over a dozen years ago. As she lay in bed trembling, Sally Marsh closed her eyes against the truth.

Out in the barn, Abner once again emptied the contents of the bucket. It had become almost a ritual for him, this counting of bones, the arranging of them in just the right position on the floor before his dogs’ cages. He always placed the skull last, in the center, with the hollowed-out eye cavities facing him. He backed away and crouched down on his haunches, thinking. He’d fooled everyone into believing he’d come to terms with the neighbors. Letting Sally go to quilting and having the older buck finish their railing had all been part of his plan. He’d even let Polly flirt with Aaron Dane. He congratulated himself on his brilliance. He pictured the Injuns worrying over headless chickens and dead raccoons, knowing he hadn’t once left a trail and that everything he did in the open made it appear he was a converted Injun-lover. Yep, Abner thought, when he made his move, everyone would be surprised.

He stared at the bones, thinking. His dogs watched him, their ears alert, their noses resting on their front paws. Finally, the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. He knew exactly what to do. It would work, too. And they wouldn’t be able to come back at him with any kind of law. But when it was all said and done, the Injuns would be gone and the county would be safe again.

He must move quickly, though. He wished the youngster from New York would leave, but Polly had already said—with a much-too happy expression on her face—that Aaron was going to stay the summer. Too bad. On the other hand, maybe he’d learn the real meaning of choosing sides with the thieving Sioux.

Abner looked at the dogs and smiled so broadly his tobacco-stained teeth shone in the fading light. Slowly, he picked up the bones. He hung the bucket high on a hook and left the barn. At supper, he teased his girls, confused by their subdued manner.

When Sally got up to clear the table, he looked at her with a scowl. “What’d you do to yourself, Sal?” he asked.

Sally looked down at him with surprise. He touched her cheek. “I got to fix that loose board on the porch. I’m sorry, Sal. That must have been a hard fall.”

Sally raised her hand to her cheek. She didn’t speak, and while the girls busied themselves clearing the table, Abner got up from the table and headed outside. They could hear him hammering late into the night.

“Finally!” Nancy panted, leaning over to peer at the puddle of water on the earth. She extended her hand to Gen. “We’ll just go on inside,” she said between contractions. When Gen expressed concern that the men had gone up to Fort Ridgely to talk to Captain Willets again, Nancy smiled. “He’ll be back soon enough. He’d only make a fuss right now, and it will surely be—awhile.” As a contraction gripped her, she struggled to manage the last few words, stopping just inside the cabin door and breathing deeply. “I’m fine,” she encouraged Gen. “Remember I’ve done this twice before. You get some water to heating. I’m going—to—lie—down.”

“Marjorie wanted to be here,” Gen reminded her as she grabbed a bucket and headed outside to get water.

“You go,” Nancy called from the bedroom. “Things seem to be calming down a little. I’ll be fine. Just hurry.” There was still plenty of time for Robert to get back before his baby entered the world. Nancy settled back on the bed, willing herself to breathe deeply, thanking God for the new life, surprised by the stab of grief she felt behind all the anticipation and joy. She had become accustomed to the ever-present absence of her two lost children.

The army had said they were protecting them back in ‘62 when they crowded women and children inside a stockade just outside Fort Snelling. Perhaps they were. The enraged citizens of Minnesota threatened to break through the stockade often enough that awful winter. But in protecting them, the soldiers also killed them. Disease spread quickly in the camp. Being underfed and half-frozen most of the time took its toll first on the very young and the very old. It took Nancy and Robert’s children.

As contraction after contraction wracked her body, Nancy began to think perhaps she had not impressed Gen with enough of a need to hurry. After all, she scolded herself, she had already given birth twice. This third child might come more quickly. Having been so stubborn about entering the world, having resisted so long, perhaps it had finally decided to hurry into the world. Certainly it had begun to feel that way. She wished Gen would come. She could birth a baby alone if need be, but she didn’t want to.

In one short burst, things became serious. Nancy reached over her head and gripped the tree limb forming the headboard of their handmade bed. Her ability to reason or think was obliterated by the intense pressure as the baby sought its way into the world. Being alone no longer mattered. Nothing mattered but herself and the child and the wonderful, horrible thing that was happening. She prayed for strength, she yelled, she pushed, and finally, she felt her child slip from her body.

Panting and crying, Nancy reached for what appeared to be a lifeless body. But he was not lifeless. The moment she lifted him into her arms he wailed lustily. She lay him across her abdomen and wrestled with the pillow next to her, removing the pillowcase, cleaning him as best she could. When her body expelled the placenta, she lay the baby down. Slipping to her knees beside the bed, she whispered a prayer before rising to her feet and wobbling across to the kitchen where she found a knife. Returning to the bed, she cut through the cord that had once carried life from her body to her son. She made her way back to the bed, to the clean side. Climbing beneath the muslin sheet she lay her head back on Robert’s striped pillow. She managed to wrap the baby more securely in Robert’s pillowcase. Then, cradling him in her arms, Nancy brought him to her breast. He latched on willingly, raising a tiny fist to his mother’s flesh, a diminutive symbol of ownership and life. Looking down at the scrunched-up face, stroking the silken black hair, Nancy wept.

It was nearly dark when Robert and Daniel and Aaron returned from another visit to Fort Ridgely and Captain John Willets. This one had borne fruit. Things were heating up in the West. Willets expected to receive his orders to head West any day. If Robert and Daniel wanted to sign on as scouts, they’d not only be welcome, they would have immediate and pressing duties. And their wives could certainly go as far as Fort Wadsworth in Dakota. Both men were pleased to learn that, with the help of the fort physician, the Christian Dakota had founded a thriving church. Captain Willets had heard the missionaries were planning their summer camp meetings not far from Fort Wadsworth. Mrs. Lawrence and Mrs. Two Stars might even be able to get reacquainted with some of the mission teachers they had known before the uprising. The news convinced Robert that he could grant Nancy’s wish to stay close to Genevieve. All in all, Daniel and Robert were satisfied. They would both sign on as scouts.

Captain Willets even hinted that if Aaron wanted to ride west as a civilian aide, something might be arranged.

“Edward Pope always likes having help in the kitchen,” Willets had said, smiling at Aaron. “If you don’t think taking orders from a cook is beneath you.”

“I’ll do anything,” Aaron replied. “Anything at all.”

“I like your attitude, young man,” Willets had said. And he had taken Aaron to meet Pope.

It had been a good day for the men, and they rode back to the Grant farm rejoicing. When no light shone from their cabin windows and no smoke rose from their chimneys to welcome them home, neither man was worried. Robert glanced up the hill toward the Grants’ and muttered something about women and quilting. “Late supper, I suppose,” he said. “Might as well bed down the horses before we go get the women.” They rode by the Lawrences’ on their way to the small shed that served them both for a barn.

“Robert! Robert! Is that you?” Nancy’s weak voice called out from inside the cabin.

Robert and Daniel dismounted and hurried inside. Still, neither one thought anything was terribly amiss. While Daniel lighted a lamp and Aaron fired up the stove, Robert lifted his son from Nancy’s arms and nuzzled the baby’s cheek, his face streaming with happy tears.

“Tell Gen and Marjorie to come in,” Nancy finally said.

The men looked at one another with raised eyebrows.

“Aren’t they with you?” Nancy said. She laughed softly. “I told Gen I didn’t think it would be long.” She shrugged. “Obviously I was wrong.”

“Stay,” Daniel said to Robert. “Enjoy your new son.” He motioned for Aaron to follow him outside. “We’ll see about Blue Eyes and Marjorie.”

He tried to ignore the sensation in his belly. He told Aaron not to worry. Still, he broke into a lope only a few feet from the Lawrences’ cabin, and a few strides later he was running.

Somehow, he knew what Marjorie would say.

“Genevieve? Nancy’s had her baby? But Genevieve hasn’t been here, Daniel,” Marjorie said. She recovered quickly. “Jeb rode into town. If Aaron can watch the boys, I’ll get down the hill to Nancy right away. You see about Genevieve, Daniel.” She hurried toward the stairs. “I’ll just collect a few things and be right down.”

The words were barely out of her mouth when they heard a horse tear into the farmyard. “Barn’s on fire!” Jeb screamed at the top of his lungs. “Barn’s on fire!”

The mystery of Genevieve’s absence was lost in the fury of the next half hour.