Through Rushing Water (30 page)

“We know the Lord watches over us, so we will not worry.”

Not worry? When they had nothing but problems? When they might be forced from their homeland? All around Sophia, people raised their hands in worship. Their tribulations would shake anyone's faith. In comparison, Sophia's problems were mere inconveniences. She had always had money, food, and a warm place to sleep, none of which the Poncas had. Yet through all their suffering, they still believed in God, still celebrated His love. They had a faith anyone would do well to emulate.

At the end of the song, Brown Eagle faced the congregation again. “Today our thoughts and prayers are with our friends in Indian Territory. If anyone would like to share, please step forward.”

After reciting the Twenty-Third Psalm, Midst of Eagles said, “God is always with us. Maybe this land along the Niobrara has become a valley of death. Maybe God leads us to green pastures.”

Walk in the Wind prayed for safe travels for the group and clear vision so they would see if the Indian Territory was good land or not.

Yellow Spotted Buffalo spoke. “I hope for a place without disease, without grasshoppers. I hope for a place where my children will grow strong and my crops too. If that place is Indian Territory . . .” Choked with tears, he sat.

Brown Eagle closed with “Rock of Ages,” then another Ponca song. Will sang both in a beautiful deep voice.

Sophia and Nettie linked arms on the return walk. “I am impressed. Those men have great spiritual maturity. Henry must have been tutoring them.”

“He tried.” Nettie shook her head. “But Will succeeded.”

“The Bible study in the warehouse?”

“Yes, but it's more than that.” Nettie searched the cloud-streaked sky, as if the answer might be written there. “Maybe because he works with them.”

“Have not others worked with them?”

“Not really. The agency farmer lost patience when they didn't understand. He'd do the work himself instead of teaching them. And the blacksmith deflowered so many of their daughters, they wouldn't go within fifty feet of him. The rest didn't stay long enough to get to know anyone.”

Nettie climbed the porch steps, her grip on the rail showing how tiring this winter had been for her. “I know it's against the rules, but Will learned the Ponca tongue. He learned their ways. He's able to reach them when no one else can.”

Sophia considered the officers who served under her father's command—those who were successful, and those who were disasters.

“Yes,” she said. “Will leads, but he does not lord it over them.”

Thomas Jefferson stood in the sunbeam and held the globe between fingers positioned at the poles. Wearing Sophia's gloves, Rosalie held a snowball to signify the moon. “The moon is always there. Sometimes the earth's shadow covers part of it. Sometimes it covers all. Yes, Luke?”

“Will we have a moon in Indian Territory?”

“Yes. It will look the same. Yes, Martha?”

“And stars? And the sun?”

“Yes, the Indian Territory has the same sky as here. Now, in the Southern Hemisphere—”

Will stepped inside, his face red with cold. The children turned and read his expression: no news. Sophia finished her lesson and ended the school day.

“You're missing a lot of students.” Will banked the fire.

She nodded. “Standing Buffalo's, Yellow Horse's, and Spotted Horse's children are ill. Brown Eagle's children are well, but Elisabeth continues to ail.”

“One grandfather was French.” He helped her don her coat. “It seems to give them a leg up on staying healthy, fighting off illness.”

A profound insight from someone unschooled in biology. “If the rest had warm clothes and enough to eat—”

“Speaking of eating, how come you're not?”

Of course Will would notice. “It is Lent. Russians fast from certain foods.” In previous years, she had neglected the discipline. But this season her small portion of meat and cheese went to her students. “And you? What did you do today?”

“Went to Hubdon and patched some leaky roofs. Fixed some doors that were sticking. Listened to a lot of coughing.”

Sophia locked the school. “Perhaps the Mission Board should have sent a doctor instead of a teacher.”

“We had a doctor who taught in '75, but he didn't stay. No one stayed.” Will tipped his head and studied her a moment. One corner of his mouth curved up. “Until you.”

The smoke from a hundred wood-burning stoves formed a halo over the agency village. Dim lights glowed in the windows as residents tried to stretch their kerosene.

“Remember in the summer we would reach this spot and the dogs would run out to greet us? But now, no dogs. Do they keep them inside for winter?”

Will looked away. He hesitated so long Sophia wondered if he had not heard her. “I told you not to name them.”

Had the people been so desperate—? “Oh no. Not my Zlata, her puppies . . .”

Will grabbed her elbow and nodded at a small boat approaching the shore. “There's Kemble, James, Henry, Charlie LeClaire, Lone Chief, and Little Chief. Where's the rest?” Will clasped her hand and they took off at a run.

For someone wearing a skirt and all that other female gear, Sophia kept up pretty well. They dashed into the kitchen as the men, the white men, stepped through the front door.

“Where are the rest of the chiefs?” Will asked.

James and Henry exchanged a grim look.

Puffed up like a rooster, Kemble doffed his top hat and dropped his gloves inside. “They would not choose, so we left them.”

“You
what
?” Nettie raised her carving knife.

Sophia unbuttoned her coat and put her gusli on the shelf. “You left them? Where?”

“In Indian Territory.” The inspector arched an eyebrow.

“With what?” Will grabbed the table's edge to keep from throttling him. “Money, a wagon, coats?”

Behind Kemble, the rev raised both hands, fingers extended. Ten? Ten dollars to bring eight men six hundred miles? Not nearly enough to pay for train tickets, or a horse and wagon.

Kemble shook his head. “They were treated with greatest consideration and kindness, but they refused to cooperate.”

“And just how do you expect them to get home?” Nettie asked. “It's winter. Are you trying to kill them off?”

If killing off the Poncas wasn't the Indian Office's plan, Will figured it would be the end result.

“In order to bring Indians to see the situation as white men see it, you must discipline them like children and decide what is best for them.” Kemble ran his stubby fingers down his wool waistcoat. “I am giving the wanderers a lesson in respect for the government.”

“Respect? You know nothing of respect. Nor compassion or Christian charity.” Sophia reached into her pocket. “I am the teacher. I give the lessons around here.”

Will gestured with a sideways movement of his chin, so James and Henry would move and give Sophia a clear shot.

“Smells good.” Kemble lifted his nose. “What's for supper?”

“Far as I'm concerned, you're eating what the chiefs are eating tonight.” Nettie pointed her knife at Kemble's heart.

“And you sleep where the chiefs sleep.” The warrior princess motioned with her pistol toward the exit.

Kemble swore and tried to hide behind James. “I told you to get rid of the Russian.”

“Don't let the door hit you in the backside on your way out.” Nettie jabbed the knife in his direction, close enough to worry him about the safety of other parts of his anatomy.

“Wait a minute.” Kemble's face turned purple as he looked for allies. “You can't throw me out. There's no hotel within miles.”

“If you're lucky, the guy with the boat's still around. He can row you over to Niobrara.”

“No. He left.”

“Then you have a long walk ahead of you. Although not as long as the chiefs'.”

“I'm an inspector from the Indian Office, an official of the United States government. You can't do this! It's dark!”

“And cold.” Sophia closed one eye and aimed for his heart. “If you walk quickly, perhaps you will avoid death.”

“But none of the Indians will take me in.”

“Can you blame them?” Will asked.

“You will learn a lesson: to walk in another's shoes. Although for the lesson to be properly learned, you should remove your shoes and empty your pockets.”

“You can't—” he sputtered.

“Aim lower,” Will told Sophia. “A slower death will give him time to reflect on his education.”

“And to confess his many sins.” Nettie grinned.

“I'll report you, all of you.” Kemble pointed at James. “You'll never work for the government again!”

“Don't know why he'd want to.” The rev sighed. “Don't shoot. He'll haul you into court on murder charges.”

“Murder?” Sophia aimed. “I call it justice. What you did to those men is murder!”

James slumped into his chair. “Unfortunately the courts don't recognize Indians as people, so he'll never be convicted. A government inspector, though—”

“Hold your fire, Sophia. Can't see you going to prison for this scum. Get the door, Henry.” Will grabbed Kemble by his collar and the seat of his pants and tossed him out. He closed the door and bolted it, then washed his hands.

The man screamed all manner of curses on them.

“Such appalling language,” the rev said. “In front of Christian women.”

Sophia looked for a piece of paper. “I should write down his speech for my next letter.”

“My hat!” Kemble yelled. “My hat and gloves! I paid good money for those.”

“Good money? Like the good money he gave our friends for their trip back.” She used the barrel of her pistol to tip the hat so she could read the label. “R. H. Macy, New York. Yes, he is generous to a fault when it comes to his own needs.” She called through the door, “I shall save it for Standing Bear when he returns. Thank you for your donation.”

Kemble cursed and banged on the windows a few more minutes, then stomped over to the blacksmith's.

Nettie served the stew. “Fortunately the blockhead doesn't remember we have a back door.”

Will leaned on the table. “What happened down there?”

“Horrible weather.” Henry gulped his coffee. “Land's full of rocks. Poncas didn't recognize any of the plants.”

“Neither did I.” James pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Nothing had been prepared for them.” Henry started eating without asking the blessing. “No houses, no church, no school.”

“The Quapaw and Kaw live in earth lodges. They're sick and miserable.” James took a bite, then pushed his bowl away. “The Osage and Pawnee said don't come.”

“The chiefs were unanimous. They're not moving.” Henry cleaned his bowl. “Kemble refused to take them to Washington, refused to give them a pass, refused to bring them back here.”