Dr. Johnson nodded while R. J. Painter furiously scribbled notes. He had hastily sketched out the compound and was trying to label buildings as Dr. Riggs continued. “Growth has been steady over the past few years. Less than five years ago we had perhaps eighty students. Now there are over one hundred. In recent months some students have had to be turned away. We simply don’t have the resources to provide for them all.”
“Perhaps the Boston Committee can help rectify that problem,” George Woodward offered. “What are the most pressing needs?”
“Three advanced pupils have been sent away to school for further study. You have had the pleasure of meeting one of the best—Jeremiah King,” Dr. Riggs replied. “I was able to find monetary assistance for Jeremiah and two classmates, but we have dreamed of establishing a scholarship fund. Jeremiah has gone on to the conference site with Pastor Thundercloud. You may want to discuss this more thoroughly with him later. He can certainly give you the students’ perspective of what would be most helpful.”
Mrs. Riggs smiled sweetly at her husband. “And now, gentlemen, with your permission, the ladies will retire to their quarters and prepare for supper.” Just then, Charity and Carrie emerged from the Birds’ Nest. Mrs. Riggs called them over. “And here is Miss Bond and her assistant. They’ll be happy to escort you over to the Birds’ Nest where you can unpack.”
Once settled in their rooms, Julia and Mrs. Johnson joined Charity and Carrie in the parlor of the family quarters at the Birds’ Nest. Julia spoke up. “Please, tell us about yourselves, ladies. How did you come to be involved in the work here?”
Charity, her hands never idle, picked a dress off the basket of mending that sat by her chair and began to sew on a button while she answered, telling of her own conversion and growing desire for a life of service. “Every issue of the Word Carrier broke my heart. They were begging for help, and God used it to call me. I came in fear and trembling and found the most rewarding life a woman can imagine.”
Julia Woodward looked at Carrie. “And you, Miss—?”
“Brown. Carrie Brown.” Carrie retrieved a blouse from the mending basket and fumbled to mend an angular tear in the back as she spoke. “I grew up here at Santee. My mother was a matron. We lived here at the Birds’ Nest. Then mother became ill and we were forced to leave.”
Julia set down her glass of lemonade and leaned forward. “Why, Miss Brown, I feel as if I know you already. Jeremiah King spoke of you, surely it was you, in Boston one evening. We were having dinner. He was obviously very fond of ‘little Carrie Brown.’ How lovely to meet the very child he spoke of.”
Charity offered, “Miss Brown is to accompany us to the conference, Miss Woodward. Then, Lord willing, she and I will be accompanying James and Martha Red Wing and Mr. King and another missionary up to the Cheyenne River villages to begin a work there. Carrie and I hope to establish a day school for the children. And perhaps a women’s sewing society and a night school for adults as the Lord leads.”
Mrs. Johnson broke in. “Tell me, Miss Bond, how does the Women’s Sewing Society function here?”
“Our weekly meeting involves a prayer meeting and then a couple of hours in handwork. We make dresses, bonnets, aprons. Friends from many places send us patchwork already basted, which we can complete. The women are very ambitious. They sell their work to our own people or to others when the opportunity arises. Last year we were able to help support the publication of the Word Carrier. This year the project will help send Jeremiah King to the Cheyenne River country.”
After a few minutes, Mrs. Johnson finally stood up. “Well, Miss Bond, Miss Brown, you’ve been very helpful. I commend you both for your dedication. Now you must excuse us. We are dining with Dr. and Mrs. Riggs this evening, and we should be making our way over there to see if we can assist Mrs. Riggs.”
“I’ll be along in a moment,” Julia Woodward said. “I’d like just a few moments to walk about the school grounds. If you’d be so kind, Miss Brown?”
“So, Miss Brown, this is to be your first conference as well?”
“Since I’ve returned, yes. Mother and I always attended the conferences.” Carrie’s voice was enthusiastic. “You’ll enjoy it, Miss Woodward. I know it’s a long way from Boston, and we don’t have the conveniences you’re accustomed to, but Indians will come from miles around. Young people taking the vows of church fellowship, singing, preaching. There may even be a wedding. It’s a wonderful time. I know that Charity has often said that just when she was most discouraged last year, she attended the conference. Well, you’ll have to get her to describe it. But I know it helped her.”
“Is the work farther to the west very difficult, Miss Brown?”
“This will be my first experience in a new work, Miss Woodward.”
“You must be very excited.”
“I once promised someone I would come back to Santee. I’ve waited all my life for this opportunity. I’m not finished with the university yet, but when Charity invited me to accompany her, it seemed a wonderful opportunity to see if I’m fit for the life of a missionary. I’ve really never considered doing anything else—”
Julia stepped up onto the porch of the Birds’ Nest and leaned against a porch rail. “If this is an accurate portrayal of the life, Miss Brown, I remain amazed at the dedication of young women like you who give up everything to adopt it. I can’t imagine living in such a barren environment.”
Carrie became animated. “Oh, but it isn’t barren, Miss Woodward. Not when you come to know it. It’s beautiful here. Just not in the same way that Boston and St. Louis are beautiful. In the spring, when the prairie comes alive, it just bursts into color. The girls bring in armfuls of wildflowers. And the sky! Sometimes you feel like you could just step right up into heaven from the top of the next rise. You take a walk, and the world opens up until you’re forced to realize your place in the universe.”
Julia laughed. “Well you certainly are a good promoter. You almost have me wanting to settle here! Jeremiah used to talk the same way about the land. He made a person want to come and see.”
Carrie’s heart dropped at the sound of Julia Woodward’s voice trilling over the name “Jeremiah.” Had she worked that into the conversation purposely, or was it just natural for her to speak of him in such a familiar tone? What exactly had he told Julia Woodward about “little Carrie Brown”?
“Yes, he has a way of doing that, of making a person respect his homeland and want to see it for themselves.”
Julia smiled brightly. “I guess we’ll both get the opportunity to do that in just a few days, won’t we, Miss Brown? And just think, Jeremiah will be there to remind us of the beauty and the history behind everything we see.”
Chapter 21
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.
Psalm 51:17
O ver one hundred people crowded into the little log church in Yankton, South Dakota, for the opening meeting of the 1884 Dakota Missions Conference. Only three of the congregation were aware of an undercurrent of emotion. Only one was miserable. Carrie Brown saw Julia Woodward arrive dressed in a stunning plaid silk gown with matching parasol. She saw Julia make her way down the center aisle of the church to the pew that had been designated for the Visiting Committee from Boston. Julia was on her brother George’s arm.
Carrie watched as the Committee was introduced to the visiting missionaries and pastors. The reaction of one pastoral intern was all that mattered to Carrie. When Soaring Eagle caught sight of Julia Woodward, he bowed and shook her hand solemnly. But Carrie saw the light in his eyes and the faint curve of his mouth as he smiled.
She sunk into a back pew next to Charity Bond, watching as Julia stood by her brother, privy to the conversations of the pastors and the Committee. Suddenly Carrie realized that Julia would be at every meeting, every dinner, every event where Carrie could have had an opportunity to see and speak with Soaring Eagle.
Carrie watched as
Julia nodded at something Dr. Riggs had said. When she moved, the feathers on her stylish bonnet bobbed up and down. Julia leaned towards her brother to say something and then smiled happily at Soaring Eagle. Looking down at her plain blue calico dress Carrie noticed the dust that had collected around the hem and the dirt under her fingernails. She pushed at the red curls that had escaped from her prim hairdo to tickle her forehead.
Opening her Dakota hymnal, Carrie pretended to search through it. Her head stayed bowed, but her eyes looked up frequently, searching Soaring Eagle’s face for his reaction to Miss Julia Woodward. The Committee was being seated. Julia Woodward scooted into a pew on the left, her brother George at her side. Soaring Eagle slid in from the opposite end of the pew to sit next to her. As they settled into their places, Julia glanced at Soaring Eagle. He returned the glance with a smile that made Carrie close her eyes and fight back tears. I’ve never seen that smile.
The meeting began with hymn singing. Julia Woodward shared her hymnal with Soaring Eagle. Soaring Eagle rose to introduce the Visiting Committee from Boston, taking the opportunity to thank the Reverend and Mrs. Johnson, and Mr. George Woodward and his sister Julia for their kind hospitality while he studied in Boston. Pastor Thundercloud gave the conference schedule, reading the discussion topics, one of which was to be “The Marriage Covenant.” He also announced that the Woodwards of Boston had offered to purchase New Testaments to be given to students at all mission schools who would commit to memory the first part of Christ’s Sermon on the Mount. He introduced Jeremiah Soaring Eagle King as a pastoral intern who, along with David Gray Cloud, would be beginning a new work on the Cheyenne River.
“Miss Charity Bond and Miss Carrie Brown . . .” Charity nudged Carrie and pulled her by the arm. Pastor Thundercloud was introducing them as assistants to the Red Wings who would be helping to establish a school in the new territory. “Miss Bond is well known to us for her work as a matron at Santee. Miss Brown has come to assist us for a short term before returning to Lincoln, Nebraska, where she will complete preparation for teaching.”
As Pastor Thundercloud spoke, Carrie stole a glance at Soaring Eagle. He was whispering something to Julia Woodward. When he finally glanced at Carrie, he nodded at her briefly and then said something else to Julia. The exchange made Carrie even more miserable. Pastor Thundercloud’s sermon was titled “The Call to Reach the Sioux Nation.” The message stirred the hearts of those who listened, but Carrie Brown’s heart was unaffected by the message as she sat in her pew fighting back tears, believing her heart was breaking.
Hundreds of Indians joined the conference as the week went on, riding in from as far away as 250 miles. Prayers and singing, preaching in the native tongue, women’s meetings, discussions, and fellowship absorbed every participant. What should have been an uplifting time of revival among every attendee served to make Carrie feel more lonely, more alienated, and more depressed. After the first day, when Soaring Eagle said hello briefly, she avoided him, knowing that he was almost always in the company of the Visiting Committee from Boston.
Charity attributed Carrie’s unusual quiet to her being overwhelmed by so many new faces and her struggle to remember the Dakota language. “It’s been years since you’ve spoken Dakota. Just be patient, it will come back. Why, in only a few days I’ve seen vast improvement.”
Carrie shrugged her shoulders and sighed. “Jesus wastemada weksuya ye. That’s the only thing I remember for certain. Mother and I sang that song every morning. But all the other phrases and the grammar, they are buried awfully deep in this thick head of mine. I don’t know if I’ll ever get the words back.”
They were sitting in their tent after an evening meeting. Charity was perched on her cot, brushing her hair. She began to sing the song softly, “Jesus wastemada hee waste, Jesus waste, Piwecida ye. ” She stopped abruptly. “Do you believe those words, Carrie?”
Carrie was unlacing her shoes when Charity asked the question. She pulled off one shoe and began to massage her foot. “Do I believe what?”
“That Jesus loves you. That He is good.”
“What an odd question. Haven’t I been taught that since I was a baby? Of course I know Jesus loves me. Of course I believe it. Why do you ask?”
Charity shot a prayer heavenward before answering. Then, she said slowly, “Well, Carrie, this week is usually quite an encouragement to those of us who work at the various stations. Especially seeing the native pastors and how they’ve grown. Take Pastor Yellow Hawk, for example. I remember when he gave his first message.” Charity chuckled. “It was the most awful thing anyone has ever suffered through. Even now, his speech doesn’t flow as smoothly as some. But it’s apparent that he’s very gifted in getting at the meaning of passages of Scripture. Pastor Riggs says it is because he is such a good Bible student. What I find most encouraging, though, is something his wife, Priscilla, said the other evening at a women’s prayer meeting. She said that his life is conformed to what he teaches. He preaches nothing that he doesn’t practice. Isn’t that a wonderful thing for a wife to be able to say about her husband? It is such a blessing to learn how God is working in lives.
“Think of it, Carrie. Nearly 300 of these once wild people have sat down with us at the table of our Lord. And He is their Lord, as well.” Charity’s voice was warm with emotion. “Last evening as I sat there looking about and listening to Pastor Yellow Hawk, I not only prayed ‘Thy kingdom come,’ but I added from the depths of my heart ‘Hallelujah, it is coming. It has begun!’ And to think, Carrie, that I am in some small way involved in the bringing of the kingdom to these people.” Charity stopped abruptly, too filled with emotion to continue. After a moment, she moved to sit by Carrie and take her hand.
“But what about you? You’ve been so quiet the entire week. You seem depressed. I thought there might be a spiritual reason.” With a deep breath, Charity continued, “Carrie, I know you were raised to believe all these things you are hearing this week. But sometimes I wonder, do you believe it because it’s part of your soul? Or do you believe it because you were raised to believe it? Do you know Christ in a personal way? Can you really sing that little song knowing that He loves you. Is He real to you? Do you pray to Him, knowing He will answer? Are you seeking His will for your life?”
Tears ran down Carrie’s cheek and dripped onto Charity’s hand. Putting her arms around Carrie, Charity asked softly, “What is it? Won’t you tell me? I know something’s wrong.”
Carrie sobbed her way through her disappointment and heartache. “I thought that I was doing the right thing, Charity. Coming to see what missionary life is like, trying to prepare myself, trying to understand what the future would hold if—” Carrie pushed away from Charity and brushed away her tears. “Oh, it doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s not going to be that way, so I’d better just get over it.” She leaned her head on Charity’s shoulder, murmuring, “Everett was right. Again.” With a little laugh she said bitterly, “I hate it when he’s right. But, at least he doesn’t gloat. When I get back home he’ll say just the right things to make me feel better.”
“Carrie, you haven’t answered my question. About Christ. Your relationship with Him,” Charity said gently.
Carrie sat up and answered without hesitation, “If you want to know if I’m a Christian, the answer is yes. I honestly do believe. But, I admit, I haven’t spent much time thinking about what God wants me to do with my life.” Carrie paused. “Funny, isn’t it? I was raised by a missionary. Grandmother and Grandfather are active in evangelism. I’ve spent my whole life thinking I would be a missionary, too. I guess I have to face the fact that it’s not going to happen.”
Carrie looked at Charity, her blue eyes shining. “Soaring Eagle has been such a … such a presence in my life. He was my absolute hero when I was a child. What little girl wouldn’t be in awe of a wild Sioux Indian who cares to be her friend. Pretty romantic stuff, isn’t it.” Carrie thought for a moment before continuing. “I’ve just always thought he would be
there when I was ready. As I grew up, I made myself believe that I loved him. I couldn’t imagine anyone else could love him as much as I—” Tears threatened, but Carrie swallowed hard and continued. “I didn’t pray for God’s will. I never considered His will could possibly be different from mine.” Carrie bowed her head and whispered. “I’ve been a fool. All the time I’ve resented people calling me ‘little Carrie Brown,’ and that’s exactly how I’ve behaved. Like a child who always gets her way. Soaring Eagle has never done one thing to indicate that he thinks of me in any other way than as his friend.” Carrie looked at Charity soberly. “There, I’ve said it. I always knew it, but I never let myself think about it.” She began to cry again. “This hurts. It really, really hurts.”
Charity reached for her Bible, asking gently, “Carrie, may I share some verses that have really meant a lot to me?” When Carrie nodded, Charity opened to the book of Job and read,
“Behold, happy is the man whom God correcteth: therefore despise not thou the chastening of the Almighty: For he maketh sore, and bindeth up: he woundeth, and his hands make whole.
Job 5:17–18
“Carrie, I don’t know anything about Miss Julia Woodward and Soaring Eagle except that she’s beautiful and he does seem to like her. But I do know that God seems to be using Miss Woodward’s presence here at the conference to speak to you. Perhaps you needed to be forced to contemplate something besides your plans, so that you could see God’s plans for you.” Charity patted Carrie’s hand. “I’ve been where you are. I know how it hurts.”
When Carrie looked up at Charity, surprised, Charity smiled. “Did you think I came to Santee because I didn’t have anywhere else to go?” Charity looked away for a moment. “Well, Dear, that’s not the way it was.” She looked back at Carrie. “But God had called me to Santee. I couldn’t go anywhere else but where God had called. I would have been miserable. Carrie, if you belong to God, then you, too, will be miserable if you go anywhere but exactly where He wants you to be. You can’t build your own dream, Carrie. God just doesn’t allow it for His children. He knows what is best for you. Even when He tears something from our hands that we love, it is for our good.”
Red Bird (Prairie Winds Book 2) Page 16