Chapter Seven
The next day during class, Samuel keenly felt Rose’s absence. He should tell her; she’d be hurt and angry when she learned he’d left the newspaper.
Hurriedly, he ate his lunch of lamb and boiled potatoes but tasted none of it. When he climbed into the wagon that would deliver him to his new job, anticipation made him tense. Would the farmer treat him well? According to Pratt, Mr. Amos Miller lost his wife last year to a lung disease and required assistance tending his sheep and chickens. His teenage daughter Effie quit school to help, but Mr. Miller also needed help with his eight-year-old daughter Orra, still attending public school.
The wagon lurched to a stop outside a farmhouse. Samuel jumped down and strode onto the porch. Through the window, a girl about his own age with long hair the color of changing leaves tended a pot on the hearth. He stepped to the door and knocked.
The girl opened the door, and her eyes widened. Such surprisingly green eyes she had, the color of new growth after winter, and her gaze pierced him. Lit as with fire, they sparkled and she stepped closer. “Are you Samuel Black Bear?”
He noticed, then, the spots on her nose and cheeks. A few months ago, another student had died of measles. Though he’d never seen them, her skin matched the description. Startled, he stepped back.
She gave a sly smile. “What’s wrong? I ain’t gonna bite you.”
Samuel stammered, “Is Mr. Miller home?”
“’Course. He’s out in the barn.” She took a cloak from the hook inside the door and swirled it around her shoulders. “I’m Effie.”
“Samuel.” The spots on her face distracted him. Too late, he realized she already knew that.
A smile curled her lips. “I know, silly. C’mon.” She led him around the back of the house. A shaggy black and white dog bounded toward them, barking.
“Hush, Beau.”
Extending his hand, Samuel knelt to show the dog he meant no harm. It sniffed, then licked his fingers.
“That’s Beauregard. We call him Beau for short. He helps herd the flock.” Opening the barn door, she called, “Pa?”
After following her inside, a noise in the hay loft made Samuel incline his head.
The old farmer stood holding a pitch fork. “Hold on, I’ll be right down.”
Grinning, Effie’s gaze swept over Samuel, sending unexpected chills across his skin. He pulled his coat tighter.
Mr. Miller climbed down the crude ladder. “Go on back in the house,” he told his daughter. When she walked to the door, the farmer narrowed his eyes in assessment. “You’re from the Indian Industrial School in town?”
“Yes sir.” Why else, he wanted to ask, would a Lakota cut his hair and wear such clothes?
Taking off his hat, the old man scratched his head. “I thought you’d be younger.” He grumbled, “And shorter.”
The door creaked and Samuel glanced over. Effie hesitated in the doorway, gazing at him.
“Go on now!” Her father’s gruff voice propelled her out the door. “She’ll be the death of me yet.” He followed her outside, and she glanced back and lingered before going in the house. “You worked with sheep before?”
“No sir.” He’d never seen one before coming to Carlisle.
Miller squinted. “Tended chickens?”
Keeping his voice steady, he replied, “No sir.”
Taking off his wide-brimmed hat, the man scratched his head. “What the… why’d they send you then?”
“I learn quickly, and I work hard.”
With a scowl, Miller looked him up and down. “Let’s hope so. I don’t got time to spend doin’ all my work twice to show you how.”
Samuel braced for what would likely be another wasichu lecture. “No sir.”
Speaking louder, Miller went on. “I expect you to be on time, and work till the job’s done. I don’t care how long it takes.”
Straining his patience, Samuel said, “Yes sir.”
Miller spat. “Yes sir, no sir. Is that all you can say?”
Samuel had no response for that.
The farmer made a noise of disgust. “All right. I’ll show you where everything is. I already told Cap’n Pratt I need morning help, not afternoon. He said you’ll be switching your classes to afternoon?”
Samuel nodded. “Starting tomorrow.”
“Good. I’ll expect you at sunup. Come February, we’ll be shearin’. I don’t suppose you’ve sheared before.”
“Not yet.”
The man’s chuckle held a sinister edge. “Well, you will. Rest assured. The next two months after that, I’ll teach you lambin’. When we’re through, you might wish you’d never learned.”
Of that, Samuel had no doubt.
****
William led the march from academics to music practice. He called Rose over when the others filed into the room. “I haven’t had a chance to ask before.” Shuffling his feet, he cast his gaze to the floor.
“Ask what?” Could something be wrong? William Eagle Elk had never been so reserved before. Even during her stay in the infirmary, unexpectedly extended when she caught the influenza virus from the others, William’s boastfulness had overshadowed any tenderness. Too eager to inform her of Samuel’s leaving the school newspaper and schedule change, he’d inflicted more harm by further straining her already-stressed body. How could Black Bear abandon her? He hadn’t even come to see her, though he must know of her illness. The doctor had quarantined her for days until she’d sufficiently recovered, then allowed visitors to encourage her return to health. William had come every day, each time asking if she’d seen Samuel, and each time she said no, took pleasure in pointing out Samuel’s faults.
But now, William met her gaze with the innocence of a young one. “Will you go with me to the dance? It’s not for a few weeks. You’ll have plenty of time to build your strength.”
“Oh.” Someone had mentioned the dance, but Rose hadn’t given it a second thought. Between catching up on her class work and other activities, she’d have no time to worry about such things. Some part of her had hoped Samuel would ask, but she realized how foolish it was to wait for such an unlikely occurrence.
“You’d make me very proud if you would accompany me.”
At hearing his unaccustomed humility, her heart softened. “I’d be happy to.”
A smile spread across his face. “Thank you.” Backing away, he grazed the door jamb, and then fled.
With a chuckle, she settled back on the pillow. Seeing his excitement pleased her. It had been too long since a boy appreciated her company. Much too long.
Time for her loneliness to end. She would get well and go to the dance with William. And enjoy it.
****
Walking toward the barn, Samuel crouched and braced for the enthusiastic greeting from Beau, bounding toward him. The dog’s friendly companionship gave him a reason to look forward to working on Miller’s farm these past months. During shearing and lambing, he’d come to know the ways of sheep. Chickens, and roosters in particular, he found comical. He’d have loved to have taken Miller’s old draft horse out for a long ride, even if it could barely muster a trot. How he’d missed being close to animals. Working on the farm healed part of his spirit in that way. Also in allowing him time alone to think.
That is, when Effie left him alone. She was one companion whose presence he tried to avoid. No matter what he did or where he went, she made some excuse to follow. Her father scowled at him, and Samuel had discouraged her from hindering his work. Like this morning, when he readied to feed the flock. “Won’t your father be looking for you? You don’t want to anger him.”
The girl just laughed. “He’s had his coffee and cold biscuits. Anyway, I never pay him no never mind. I do whatever I please. And I like to do all sorts of things.” Her breathy tone left no doubt what she had in mind, and she sidled closer. “What about you?”
Loading the last of the hay onto the wooden wheelbarrow, he leaned the pitch fork against the wall. “I lik
e to stay out of trouble and finish my work on time.” He said it amiably, but hoped she understood. To further illustrate his point, he pushed the wheelbarrow outside toward the field, where the sheep waited to be fed.
Pursing her lips, she followed behind him. “You must like to have some fun once in awhile.”
Pleasure had no part of his world, and hadn’t been for a long time. Not since the time he shared with Quiet Thunder. His gut clenched, and he blocked the memory.
“While I was in the dry goods store, I bought a copy of your school’s newspaper. It says you drew the pictures. Is that so?” The spots on her face appeared brighter in the cold morning. Freckles, he’d learned, indicated no illness, but they still fascinated him.
“Not any longer.” He wished the girl would stop prattling and go about her own work.
“Why? You draw good.”
Her bad grammar made him cringe. “I needed a real job.”
“So you came to work for my daddy. But you still go to school?”
“Yes.” She must know all this. Why repeat it?
“The paper also said your school’s havin’ a dance soon. You takin’ anyone?”
“I probably won’t go.” He avoided most gatherings, especially those not strictly supervised. Situations where he might run into Rose socially. He couldn’t bear the pretense of having to speak to her so casually when his heart wanted to burst. They could never have here what they shared on the reservation.
Effie’s nasally whine cut through his thoughts. “Why not? Don’t you like to dance?”
Not the wasichu way, he wanted to say. He loved to dance at ceremonies, let the drumbeats pound to the beat of his heart. “Yes, but I’m very busy. Besides, I have no one to go with me.” He knew that to be untrue. If he asked Rose, she’d readily accept. A dance would give him an excuse to hold her close, something he yearned to do every time he saw her, even though it would leave his heart more shattered.
“I’ll go with you.”
Pausing to catch his breath, he glanced up. “What?”
“I said, I’d love to go to the dance with you.”
But he hadn’t asked. “I… couldn’t. Your father would object.”
“No, he wouldn’t, silly. He likes you.”
“He does?” The old man grunted in response to questions, and barked most orders.
“He won’t show it ‘cause he worries you’d try to take advantage of him.” She sidled close, her voice breathy. “You wouldn’t do that, would you? Take advantage of my daddy?”
“No.” He should draw back, stand an acceptable distance away. Somehow, he didn’t. Her large green eyes sparkled, and her lips pouted so invitingly, he found himself wondering if she tasted as sweet as she smelled. Like lilacs. At that, he stepped away and finished spreading the hay onto the field. He had no room in his life for such thoughts, especially about a girl who held no interest for him. A lazy girl who shunned work, and had no respect for her father. When he left Miller’s farm, his thoughts did not remain here with her. Never had she pretended to do any chore while speaking with him. Not that he’d allow her to do his work; he took pride in it, and saved every penny he made. Someday, he’d have enough to set out on his own. Before that day, he would have to decide where.
“I’ll ask his permission,” she said.
“For what?”
She clucked her tongue. “To go to the dance. You’ll take me, won’t you?”
Like everything else in his life of late, it seemed he didn’t have a choice.
****
Flutters filled Rose’s chest. Her dress appeared too plain. Putting up her hair helped a little, but she frowned at the image in the mirror. Why get so upset? Like any other school function, participating in the dance would please the teachers. She wanted nothing more than to do everything right during her time here, so she could go home.
A girl hurried in the dorm. “William’s downstairs.” She heaved a sigh. “You’re so lucky.”
“What do you mean?” Rose pulled on her cloak.
“He’s so handsome. And the captain of the guard!”
Forcing a smile, she brushed past. If she could only feel some of their enthusiasm. Dread filled her at the prospect of being alone with him. Until now, she’d forgotten how uncomfortable it made her. Since he’d become captain, his arrogance had multiplied.
At her descent, he puffed up like a cock of the walk. “Good evening.”
Her stomach twisted. He sounded like a wasichu. She nodded and took the arm he offered.
Without speaking, they walked to the hall. Inside the great room, violin and piano harmonized with chatter while they hung their coats in the cloak room.
“Shall we?” William smiled.
Candles and lanterns suffused soft light across the room. Couples swirled by, the rhythm oddly disturbing. Too slow and dreamlike, she thought.
They stood watching at the edge of the dance floor. When the song ended, they clapped. A waltz followed.
“May I have this dance?”
She took his hand and did her best to follow his lead. How strange these wasichu dances were.
William’s forceful movements made him appear stiff. He had none of Samuel’s grace, an ease of motion like that of an animal. He lacked much of what Samuel had. She dismissed the thought. If Samuel had asked her, she wouldn’t be here with William tonight.
As if summoned, Samuel appeared in the doorway, his hair combed back. Her heart pricked with hope. Had he come looking for her?
When his gaze met hers, his face held no emotion. A red-haired girl stepped beside him and linked her arm through his with a wide smile.
Rose choked back a gasp. He’d brought someone else! Though she knew how obviously she stared, she couldn’t tear her gaze away. How could he?
A teacher announced a square dance, and the students lined up. Rose’s stomach burned. No way to avoid either of them now. Concentrating on the steps provided no relief. She couldn’t keep from seeing exactly where Samuel moved at each turn. At the next do-se-do, he bowed to her according to the dance call.
She glared. How dare he treat her like any other girl? As if he’d never made her a sacred vow! Yet here he was with someone else. After she’d given up her Lakota life to follow him to this wretched school.
When Samuel glided past, visions of Black Bear at the Ghost Dance returned: putting his whole self into the dance as an offering. As Samuel, he moved like a shadow, not even a ghost of his former self.
Tearing away from the whirling crowd, she rushed to the punch bowl and downed a cup.
William appeared at her side. “Are you all right?”
“No.” How could she be? “I’m leaving.” Without waiting, she hurried to the cloak room and dashed outside. In her dormitory, an image haunted her: Samuel dancing, with Black Bear moving in his shadow.
Black Bear was no more. Samuel had killed him. How proud Pratt would be to know.
Part of Quiet Thunder died too. Maybe for now she should remain buried.
****
At lunch the next day, Samuel could not keep his gaze from following Rose. William sat beside her, glancing over frequently, his hard glare a challenge. How could she go to the dance with him? The boastful trickster might do well in his studies, but still lacked wisdom. Eventually, he’d harm Rose with his selfishness.
Samuel expelled a sharp breath. He couldn’t protect her, not when he couldn’t help himself.
When she stood and made for the door, Samuel found himself at her side.
“Did you enjoy the dance?” He’d tried to ask in a pleasant manner, but anger bubbled to the surface.
Pain crossed her face, then her features hardened. “Another pointless wasichu practice. They dance for themselves, as they do everything for themselves.” Pushing past, she lined up to march outside.
He scrambled to stand behind her. One advantage of William acting as student guard: his duties required him to stand apart from the rest. “But you dance very well.”
Stunned, he could think of nothing further to say. Any explanation would sound false.
The next morning, he made every excuse not to speak with Effie. Her loud talk and laughter drew her father’s sharp glances again and again. At every opportunity, she recounted their evening. How he wished he’d refused to go. He could have easily invented some obligation to prevent him from going, and she’d never have known he’d lied.
Lying went against Samuel’s nature. Even twisted with some truth, lies followed the liar like a curse, bringing their own particular punishments. Truth sometimes presented a challenge, but left no mark on his spirit.
His hands worked swiftly to remove the eggs from the hens’ nesting places. When the barn door creaked, he didn’t look up. By the silence, he knew Effie had come in. The silence had begun to feel like a warning.
Her skirt rustled as she approached. “I brought you some coffee.”
Glancing up, he continued to work, his back bent over the nests. “No thank you.”
“But it’s such a chilly mornin’. I didn’t want you to be cold.”
Something in her smooth tone set him on edge. When fingers lightly ran across his back, he jerked upward, fumbling the basket of eggs.
Matching his steps, she followed. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t think your father would like it.”
With a sly grin, she sidled closer. “He’s out in the field. He don’t have to know nothin’.”
“I have work to finish. I cannot be late for class today. I have tests.” The lie rolled off his tongue before he could stop it.
“Then come back tonight.”
“What?”
She whispered in a breathy voice. “After Pa’s asleep. I’ll meet you here in the barn and-”
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