Matthew joined her moments later. Watching his father, he tugged on her arm as if to ask where he as going. She fought off her depression for Matthew's sake.
"He'll be back soon." Luke wasn't likely to leave Matthew long in her care. She rubbed her eyes quickly. She had no patience with tears and certainly had no intention of feeling sorry for herself. She had only herself to blame for what had happened. When was she going to learn that it was the male's prerogative to pursue a woman or not, as he chose? Probably at the same time she came to accept that the male also was at liberty to take his sweet time in the process, if that was what he wanted to do.
It was yet another example of how the mores of society were undeniably stacked in favor of men. She had hoped to escape such rigid customs and traditions upon leaving Washington. It had not occurred to her that some things remained the same no matter what the location.
There didn't appear to be any way to make her feelings known to Luke without rebelling against firmly established traditions.
Not wanting Matthew to know something was wrong, she tried distracting him by point to the little prairie dog that she had named Prince.
Prince popped his little round head out of the hole next to a mound of dirt and regarded them with small, beady eyes. Maddie never tired of watching the little creatures flit in and out of the numerous mounds like friendly neighbors dropping in to chat. They were interesting animals, and seemed especially suited to the prairie.
Matthew whistled as Maddie had taught him, and countless little feet flashed upward as hundreds of prairie dogs dived for cover amid a chorus of startled yelps. Matthew clapped his hand in delight, his eyes shining with mischief.
Maddie couldn't help but laugh. "Now look what you've done."
Prince was the first one to emerge. The little prairie dog sat up on hind legs and made little barking sounds as if to keep his friend apprised of what was happening above ground.
"He's a brave one," she said. "One day I'm afraid that little fellow is going to get himself into trouble."
She slipped her hand into the deep pocket of her apron and pulled out the kernels of corn she'd found stored in the Indian rubber sack in the barn. She squatted and held out her hand, palm up. The rodent sniffed and eventually crept forward until he was close enough to grab the food out of her hand.
Matthew had previously watched her feed Prince from afar, but on this particular morning he stooped beside her, and she could feel his intensity as he watched. "Would you like to feed Prince?"
Matthew kept his eyes focused on the little animal. She took his hand in hers and gently unfolded his closed fingers. "It's all right." She gave him an encouraging smile and placed a kernel in his palm. "Now hold it out so Prince can reach it."
Cautiously Matthew followed her instructions.
Prince's nose wiggled as he crept up closer. Matthew stiffened next to her. Fearful that he would have one of his tantrums, she slipped an arm around his shoulders. "It's all right, Matthew. Prince won't hurt you."
The animal grabbed the corn in his mouth and ran back to his hold like a little thief, his feet flashing in midair as he disappeared.
"See? What did I tell you?" She looked into Matthew' face and his wide smile chased away her depression.
"Oh, Matthew," she whispered. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. She was touched deeply when he hugged her back. She wished his father were as open and giving There were a lot of things she wished about Luke.
In the days that followed, Matthew grew brave enough around the prairie dog that she no longer had to prod him. Soon he began a daily practice of feeding Prince with no help from her.
It had occurred to her recently that she needed to put more structure into her day. Earlier she had driven to Colton to check on the progress of her school; she felt restless and eager to begin full-time teaching.
While in Colton, she met Reverend Moser, who told her his plan to begin Sunday worship services on the site of the new church. He was a kind, humble man so unlike the fire and brimstone preachers she knew back home, she took an instant liking to him.
"You'll come, won't you?" he asked.
"Of course I'll come," she promised.
Her promise to Reverend Moser required her to cancel her exercise classes on Sundays.
Lefty took great offense at this. "You don't want me to be flat," he said accusingly. He pointed to his flabby stomach.
"One day isn't going to make that much difference," she explained. "And it will only be on the Sabbath Day."
He frowned. "Sabbath?"
She pointed upward. "Great Father's day."
He nodded solemnly. "Great Father."
She should have known it wouldn't be that simple. Lefty had no concept of the white man's calendar. No matter how many times she explained and showed him on charts and counted out the days with sticks, he never failed to ride his horse over each day before dawn and stand outside her tipi demanding to know if it was the "Great Father's day."
He was greatly relieved on the six days of the week when the answer was no. On such days, he rode off happily to tell the others. He returned a short time later, shouting and waving his hands as she led the group to the grassy area that had been set aside for their calisthenics.
By contrast, on Sundays, after she explained what day it was, he rode away looking forlorn and confused. He did not understand the Great Father's day.
It was a warm Friday morning that third week in June when she next noticed Red Feather watching her from the distance, long after the other Cheyenne had left for the day. It was wash day and she was hanging the wet clothes on the rope that Luke had recently stretched from the windmill to the side of the barn for her.
Matthew was so eager to give Prince his breakfast, he tugged impatiently at her arm. "Just a minute, Matthew."
Unwilling to wait a moment longer than necessary, Matthew reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of dry corn.
Maddie laughed at his impatience. "Prince has got you trained, hasn't he?" Matthew ran off in search of the little prairie dog, while Maddie hung the last of the wash to dry.
Watching the Indian between the flapping sheets, she saw him turn and ride off. Something about Red Feather's sudden retreat put her senses on alert. Normally, he left so unobtrusively that she hardly noticed.
Shaking off the uneasy feeling that washed over her like the shadow of a cloud, she picked up the empty laundry basket and started for the house.
She turned to call to Matthew. Something in the way he held himself made her stop in her tracks. He stood too rigid, too still. "Matthew?"
His arms and legs began to flail around his body. Alarmed, she dropped the basket and raced to his side. "Matthew! What is it?"
By the time she reached him, he had already flung himself to the ground. Feet kicking, he pounded the ground with his fists. "Stop it, Matthew!"
She grabbed an ankle, but he thrashed about so violently, she was forced to jump back.
Luke seemed to appear out of nowhere, his face grim. He shoved her away and grabbed Matthew by the shoulder. With a skill that could only have come from experience, he lifted Matthew in his arms and carried him to the soddy.
Shaken, Maddie followed Luke and was hurt when he slammed the door shut in her face. She was tempted to follow, but thought better of it. There was nothing she could do for Matthew. She wasn't even sure if she could do anything for Luke.
She scanned the distant prairie. A cloud of dust hovered in the distance, blocking out Red Feather and his horse.
She lowered her gaze and froze at the sight of a red feather sticking out of the ground. Her stomach clinched into a tight knot, she moved toward the feather until she could see the small furry mound beneath the arrow's shaft.
With a cry of protest, she dropped to her knees next to Prince's motionless body. So that's why Red Feather had raced away so quickly.
Filled with anger and grief, she pulled the arrow from Prince's body and tossed it aside. Poor Matthew. No wonder he'd been so upset. Unable to speak, he had no other way to show his feelings but through rage.
Tears blurred her eyes as she scooped the still-warm body in her arms and carried it away from the soddy. She chose a spot among a colorful array of wildflowers and lay the body on the ground. After retrieving a spade from the side of the barn, she set to work digging a hole.
It was hot and the air was still. Not a prairie dog could be seen, nor a bird's song heard. Maddie couldn't remember a time that the prairie had seemed so still and quiet. It was as if the whole world were in mourning.
She drew her arm across her damp forehead and glanced back at the soddy. Recalling the dark, grim look on Luke's face, her heart ached for him.
After laying prince to rest, she covered the small grave with dirt and planted wildflowers upon the mound.
She thought of the many times she had seen dead animals in her father's lab and wondered why she had never been affected previously the way she was today. Indeed, there had been a time when she had wanted to follow in her father's footsteps. She'd made the decision while her father was away on one of his expeditions, and she recalled how impatiently she'd waited for his return to tell him.
She had expected her father to embrace the news with the same support he showed for everything else she did. Something as insignificant as the announcement that she was going to learn to play the piano would bring a round of hugs and joyful exclamations from him. That's why it hurt so much when he rejected her idea. For the first time in her life she had been angry with her father, and hurt by him.
"It's because I'm a girl!" she cried accusingly. "You don't think I can do the magic!" The
magic
is what she had called her father's ability to display animals so realistically that people often thought at first glance they were alive.
"You can do the magic," he told her. "It's the other thing…I would not want for you."
"What other thing?" she'd persisted, but she didn't get an answer that day; she would have to wait until years later before she got her answer. She would have to wait for the day she stood on a hot Kansas prairie at the grave of a little prairie dog.
Never once during her childhood had she considered how her father acquired the animals he brought to the museum. Her father was first and foremost a hunter.
That was a necessary part of the job. The part of the job that she had no heart for. That was made painfully clear to her the day she had witnessed from the train window the shooting of a buffalo.
And now this senseless killing of an innocent animal. For what reason, she wondered, as she stared across the shimmering hot prairie toward the Cheyenne camp? For what reason?
Chapter 18
It was late that same afternoon before Luke emerged from the house. Maddie followed him into the barn. "How is he?"
"He's…asleep." Luke sounded tired, and his face was lined in weariness.
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
"No." He grabbed a hoe and started for the door.
"Don't do this," she pleaded.
He stopped, then pivoted to face her. "Do what?"
"Shut me out. I want to help."
"I told you, Maddie. There's nothing you can do."
"I can try."
He turned his back.
"Please," she persisted.
Her plea was followed by a long silence. She touched his arm, and he covered her hand with his own. For a moment, he squeezed her hand so hard it was as if he were trying to pour himself into her. Abruptly he dropped her hand and moved away.
"There's nothing you can do. There's nothing anyone can do."
"But…"
"Leave it alone, Maddie. For all our sakes." He reached out and wrapped his fingers around her arm. "Please."
She lifted her eyes to meet his and wondered what it was he was really asking her to do.
The following morning when Lefty rode up on his pony to inquire as to whether there would be classes that day, Maddie was waiting for him.