Soaring Eagle (Prairie Winds Book 3)

by Whitson, Stephanie Grace

  Jim nodded. “I want you to go.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I want you to go and be with David Braddock and see where he lives. I want you to have a wonderful time.”

  “What if I don’t come back? David has proposed.”

  Jim said quietly. “I thought he would have by now.” He looked at LisBeth evenly. “But you didn’t accept, or you would never have let me say the things I’ve said just now.”

  “No, I didn’t accept. But what if—”

  He interrupted her. “What if you don’t come back to me?” His voice shook with emotion. “Well, LisBeth, it’s like this. If you said you’d marry me right now, I’d still tell you to go to Philadelphia.”

  At LisBeth’s look of confusion, Jim tried to explain. “Homesteading is a hard life. I don’t want to live with a woman who looks out the window and wishes she was someplace else—with the last name of Braddock. That’s an amazing house David Braddock’s built. If you want it, I guess it’s yours.” Jim took a deep breath. “But he’ll never, with all his millions, be able to give you one drop of the love I can. He’ll never stand at the window of that big fancy house and burst with joy at the sight of you coming up the drive the way I do every time you drive out to the homestead. He hasn’t prayed for you—asked God for you—the way I have.”

  Jim took a deep breath and finally finished. “LisBeth, go to Philadelphia. See everything there is to see, and spend lots of time with David Braddock. I’ll be here—believing that God meant it when He said, ‘Trust in the Lord , and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily shalt thou be fed. Delight thyself also in the Lord ; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. Commit thy way unto the Lord ; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass.’ I believe that God gave me the desire to ask you to be my wife. I think he’ll honor it. If he doesn’t want us together, then I’ll have to let you go. I’ve been in places where God wasn’t with me. I never want to go back to those places.”

  Finally, Jim reached for LisBeth’s hand. She offered it willingly and realized that he was trembling as he bent to kiss the back of her hand. “God go with you, Lizzie Baird.” He looked up at her and said earnestly. “Come back to me.”

  Before LisBeth could say anything, Jim Callaway jumped up and nearly ran out of the livery. She sat on the hay bale for a long time before returning to the hotel kitchen. Augusta looked up and her eyes narrowed as she asked, “What happened to Jim?”

  LisBeth’s voice trembled as she answered, “He had to get back to the homestead, I guess. Said he hopes we enjoy our time in Philadelphia.” LisBeth made her way to her room where she spent the afternoon thumbing through her mother’s worn Bible, wondering at Jim Callaway’s odd proposal, and hungering to find the faith that enabled him to deliver it and trust God with the outcome.

  Chapter 32

  I bare you on eagles’ wings, and brought you unto myself.

  Exodus 19:4

  S olomon Yellow Hawk and Justin Spotted Bear were tilling Rachel Brown’s weedy garden when John Thundercloud and Soaring Eagle returned from their hunt. The two boys dropped their hoes and raced to the blacksmith shop. From there, four boys scattered to spread the word that the hunters were back. By the time Thundercloud and Soaring Eagle had reached the Riggs’s cabin, half the school’s population had gathered to admire the success of the two men.

  The next few moments were spent handing out a share of their meat to every field matron present. Soaring Eagle’s eyes searched the small group until he located Charity. He gave her a huge portion of one deer, and while he didn’t say anything, Charity sensed the question he wanted to ask.

  “They’re in Lincoln. Rachel wrote to us that she will rest there before going on to St. Louis. LisBeth is taking care of her.”

  Once the meat was distributed, Soaring Eagle and John Thundercloud were the recipients of many invitations to dinner. Soaring Eagle declined and headed for James and Martha Red Wing’s farm, having saved an entire deer carcass for them. When he arrived at their farm house, he found Martha and James working side by side in their own fields, picking up a considerable crop of squash and pumpkins and piling them in the back of their wagon.

  Martha hurried away, leading the pony laden with the deer, and promising the two men a hearty supper. Soaring Eagle set to working beside James. The two men worked for more than an hour before either one said much. Finally, the field was stripped of its fall crop and the wagon was driven near the barn where James had dug a cache pit. Lowering himself into the pit, he layered the vegetables with fresh straw as Soaring Eagle handed them down. When the pit was full, James covered it with more straw and stood up to survey his work with satisfaction.

  “The hunt was good?” he asked at last.

  “It was good.” Soaring Eagle walked to the front of the wagon and lead the team to the barn. Surveying the corral, he commented. “Thomas Yellow Hawk has come. Did he buy many ponies?”

  James nodded. “Yes. He was very pleased with our ponies, Soaring Eagle. It was obvious that they had been trained by one who knew much about horses. I thank you for your work.”

  A shrill whinny split the air and a black mare stuck her finely shaped head out of one stall. Soaring Eagle looked at the black mare with surprise. “Thomas Yellow Hawk praised your herd, yet he left the best horse behind?”

  James smiled. “The black mare is for you. When she foals in the spring you will have the beginnings of a fine herd again. I only hope that you will not use her to leave us.”

  Raking through the black mare’s tangled mane with his fingers, Soaring Eagle pondered James’s words. “Hear me, James Red Wing, for this is not the time to tell a lie. When I first came here, I hated the white man for what he did to my people. But now I have begun to walk a new road. I do not know yet where it will take me. But I know I cannot go back to the old ways. There is no longer hatred in my heart for the white man.” Turning to face James Red Wing, Soaring Eagle said solemnly, “I am trying to learn how to be a man here. It is a different way. Thank you for giving me the black mare. Now you must tell me what to do to help you here and to help at the mission.”

  Soaring Eagle stayed at the Santee school through the fall. Through Martha he learned of Rachel Brown’s worsening illness. Each Sunday as he sat, his arms folded, on the back pew of the church wishing, that Carrie’s big blue eyes would peer down the center aisle and smile at him. He wrestled with the boys and continued to go to classes with the adults. His English became ever more fluent, and when the last killing frost ended gardening, he began to learn to set type in the print shop.

  As he set type, he read the articles that appeared in the Word Carrier, forming opinions on the topics discussed therein and challenging James Red Wing and John Thundercloud on various issues. “John Thundercloud—I read where they say ‘Why do not the Indians till the ground and live as we do?’ May we not ask why the white people do not hunt and live as we do?”

  “Be careful, my friend,” came the response. “If you begin to sound too able in these matters, Reverend Riggs will be asking you to go back east with him to convince his supporters to send more money our way.”

  Soaring Eagle snorted. “I do not think that Reverend Riggs would want to travel with a wild Indian.” The prospect made him laugh aloud.

  James laughed with him, but when he walked away, he broached the topic with Martha. “The school always needs money, Martha. The sight of Soaring Eagle—the ‘wild Lakota’—tamed and living a civilized life would do much to help the work of the school. You’ve heard him tell stories to the school children. He holds them spellbound. God could use such a talent to further the work here.”

  Martha shook her head. “Soaring Eagle has changed a lot since he came to us, but he’s not converted, and he may never be. He’s singularly repelled by the notion that there is only one way to heaven and that it didn’t come through a Lakota.”

  “We don’t have to save him. God will do that.”

 
The Red Wings dropped the subject, but separately, each one began to pray more earnestly for the soul of Soaring Eagle. Fall melted into winter, and word came that Rachel Brown was weakening. Soaring Eagle worried about his friends and wished for spring. While he was perfectly capable of writing to Carrie, he didn’t. Somehow he sensed that in this new world, such a communication would be unacceptable. There was no tangible communication between the two, and yet the friendship remained strong. Soaring Eagle carried thoughts of Carrie with him, and Carrie prayed often for her friend.

  In Santee, as Christmas approached, the children became more and more excited about their seasonal party. A dinner was planned, and Martha Red Wing deftly organized six committees: food and money solicitation, bread baking, cake making, pie making, chicken plucking, and general management.

  James teased Martha about the last committee. “General management sounds like the committee left over for the bad cooks.”

  Martha smiled wisely. “There is always a place at Santee for everyone, no matter their talents—or lack of them.”

  Christmas Day dawned clear and cold. Before noon it was snowing and the children began to fear that their families might not be able to attend the celebration. As the afternoon shadows lengthened and families began arriving, the snow grew thicker. Charity organized another committee to gather extra quilts and blankets for those who would no doubt want to spend the night at the mission. By the time the hour for the program had come, a dangerously cold wind rattled the window panes.

  “Of course we’re having Christmas,” Charity retorted when one of her charges fearfully asked about the program. “Nearly everyone is here already, and the storm can’t last long. It’s not a blizzard. It’s just snow.”

  The Red Wings had been at the school all day, having entrusted the feeding of the stock to Soaring Eagle, who said that he would come to the program. “I promised Carrie Brown I would not miss Christmas,” he explained simply.

  Far away in St. Louis that Christmas Day, Carrie Brown sat beside her grandparents in their church in St. Louis, fighting back tears of loneliness. She snuggled against her grandmother and wondered if Mr. Soaring Eagle would ever learn to love Jesus. The thought that he might not brought more tears, and she finally succumbed to sobs of fear and sadness while her grandmother held her close and whispered comfort.

  Had she been at Santee, Carrie would have known even more comfort, for just as the Christmas program was beginning, a solitary figure stepped quietly through the church door. Not finding a seat, he stood at the back of the church, his fur-lined moccasins crusted with ice. As Jim Callaway had once said, Soaring Eagle “might be a heathen but he’s a man of his word.” He had trudged through waist high drifts to keep his promise to Carrie Brown. Soaring Eagle was present for Christmas at Santee.

  The small church was decorated with evergreen boughs at the end of every pew and along the altar. Candles set the room ablaze with a golden glow. At the front of the church, a tree had been hung with small presents and the berries collected by the children before the storm began. Soaring Eagle looked at the strange decorations and was unable to hide his amazement.

  The evening program began with the boys singing,

  Maa duidi adi

  Jesus di ki dits adi

  Heesame di tawts

  Adu dita makadats

  Di ki dit a haawa

  Mi idits seekuha.

  When John Thundercloud rose to give his sermon, the room grew so quiet that he could have whispered and every word would have been easily heard.

  “We are glad that you have come this evening to honor and exalt our Lord Jesus Christ.” It may seem strange, my friends, that our young men have sung the hymn that is known among our white sister churches as ‘Rock of Ages.’ In truth, it is I who requested it, because it reminds us that while on this day we celebrate the birth of Jesus, it is his death that gives meaning to his birth.

  “The message of the birth of Jesus Christ is one that is totally unique from the message of any other birth.” The apostle Paul summarizes the purpose of the coming to earth of Jesus Christ. He says, ‘This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.’ That is an aspect of the celebrating of the birth of Christ that we must not overlook. Why did Jesus Christ come into the world? God says that his Son came into the world for the express purpose of saving sinners.

  “The message of Christmas goes all the way back to the beginning of time, when God made a man and a woman and placed them in a garden. The man and the woman rebelled against him. Immediately they were consumed with guilt. They tried to cover themselves with garments made of leaves. God had warned them that the penalty for sin would be death. They were experiencing that in that their fear had already separated them from God. But God loved them. He gave them garments made out of animal skins. And there the point is driven home that ‘without shedding of blood, [there] is no remission’ —no forgiveness of sins.

  “You and I are sinners. Guilty and condemned before God.” That is the starting point of understanding the significance of the birth of Jesus Christ.

  “Most people are offended when holy God says, ‘There is none righteous, no, not one’ or ‘All have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.’ Most people are offended when God says that all our righteous deeds are like filthy, polluted rags in his sight—unacceptable. He says that by our works no human being will become righteous in his sight.

  “Most people are offended when they are told that, because they are sure that by doing the best they can that God will accept them. God says no. The message of Christmas is that God says no. He must intervene on our behalf. He must provide the sacrifice that can take care of our sins.

  “So the eternal God—the One who lived in eternity—became a man born at Bethlehem. I don’t understand it, but it’s true because God says it is. He did it for the purpose of living on this earth and going to the cross to be crucified. Why? Because ‘the wages of sin is death.’ The penalty for sin is death. Jesus Christ was crucified to pay the penalty for sin. God in his grace had intervened on our behalf. Jesus Christ was raised from the dead. Why? Because he had accomplished righteousness for us.

  “The message of Christmas is not complete unless you understand the background for it. Humanity has fallen into sin. God has promised to step down from the throne of glory and become a man in the person of his Son so that he might go to the cross and bear in his body on the cross our sin and then offer to a fallen humanity the free gift of eternal life by believing in him.”

  Pastor Thundercloud paused for a moment and looked about the crowded room. Picking up his Bible, he held it in one hand as he continued, “Let me read again the statement of the apostle Paul. ‘This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners. ’ You see, you must come to grips with the reality that you are a wretched, vile, condemned sinner. And a holy God says that you will spend an eternity in hell unless you receive the free gift that he has provided for you through the death of his Son, Jesus Christ.

  “The message of Christmas is one of great celebration, if you understand what it is about. God is condemning sin. At the same time he is providing a way of forgiveness from sin.

  “The question is, what does Christmas mean to you? Do you understand who Jesus Christ is? Do you understand why the Lord of glory, the sovereign of all, would step out of eternity and into time to be born as a human being so that he could be crucified on a cross? He did it because there’s no hope for you or me apart from him. The message of Christmas is a message of hope. There is a free gift offered to all who will turn from their sin and believe in Jesus Christ as their Savior.”

  Closing his Bible and stepping down from the platform, Pastor Thundercloud bowed his head and concluded his message with a quiet, “Let us pray.”

  When John Thundercloud had begun his Christmas message, Soaring Eagle stood at the back of the room, his arms folded in his cha
racteristic I-am-here-but-I-do-not-agree manner. As the words swept over the small congregation, however, something supernatural took place. John Thundercloud would later say that he could almost see Soaring Eagle’s heart breaking. Thundercloud sent out arrows painted with the blood of the cross, and each one hit its mark. Guided by the Holy Spirit, the arrows split the shell of bitterness and questions that surrounded Soaring Eagle’s heart.

  At the conclusion of the service, everyone present received a gift made by the school children. Soaring Eagle was amazed when Charity Bond pressed a tiny package wrapped in brown paper into his hand. Amid the bedlam of childish cries of delight, she leaned close to whisper, “Carrie said that if you kept your promise, I was to give you this gift.” Soaring Eagle unwrapped the package to find a small paper cross. On one side, Carrie had printed carefully, “Jesus Loves Soaring Eagle.”

  Soaring Eagle made a hasty exit. He fought his way through the drifting snow back to James Red Wing’s barn, where he dug a fire pit and started a small fire. The black mare poked her head over her stall door and whickered quietly. Soaring Eagle patted her gently as he passed her on his way to the ladder that led to the loft. From his parfleche, he took a small bundle wrapped in white skins and carefully unwrapped the Bible that he had heard read so many times around the campfire in his youth. Setting the Bible aside momentarily, he used the skins to wrap up Ida May, the corncob doll. He took the Bible back down the ladder and settled by the fire.

  He turned the pages slowly, looking for Walks the Fire’s marks. She had used Rides the Wind’s paints to smudge along the margins on many pages. Soaring Eagle read,

  Who hath measured the waters in the hollow of his hand, and meted out heaven with the span, and comprehended the dust of the earth in a measure, and weighed the mountains in scales? . . . Behold, the nations are as a drop of a bucket, and are counted as the small dust of a balance. . . . Have ye not known? have ye not heard? . . . It is he that sitteth upon the circle of the earth, . . . that bringeth the princes to noth ing. . . . Lift up your eyes on high, and behold who hath created these things . . . he calleth them all by names. . . . Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall: but they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.