Escape to Fort Abercrombie

by Candace Simar

  Every morning some would say help would arrive that day. At night the same folks would promise help would come the next day. Auntie Abigail felt in her bones that Governor Ramsey had everything under control. Mrs. Kelly found a four-leafed clover, which meant good luck coming her way. Mathilde Jacobs said she and her mother were praying a novena to St. Michael for deliverance.

  “I’m sick of this,” Sven said one day. “I’d rather be raking hay than listening to all these wild stories.”

  “I know what you mean,” Ryker said. “We’re not used to being stuck with strangers. I can’t wait to be home again.”

  As he spoke the words, he realized that he was homesick for their prairie home. Homesick, like Mama had been for Norway. He remembered Mama’s faraway look in her eyes as she told stories about the stabbuhrs, cheeses, and home.

  “Let’s sneak out,” Sven said. “Who would stop us?”

  “It’s not safe,” Ryker said. “We can’t risk being killed or stolen. Like it or not, we have to wait until the Sioux are whipped.” Ryker wanted very much to return home. “Besides, we have to find Mama.”

  “Then let’s just get away from these people,” Sven said. “Please. Just a little peace and quiet. I’m sick of griping women, fighting kids, and stinky soldiers. I’ve had enough.”

  Being forted up meant no relief from the constant pressures of people. Ryker knew of a quiet place alongside the horse barn. A guard stood nearby. It should be safe enough, even though it was strictly off limits for civilians. Of course, Captain Vander Horck couldn’t risk some child wandering off and being captured. There had been enough death.

  Ryker cornered Hannibal when he helped Auntie Abigail carry breakfast to the men. Hannibal said he would be guarding that corner all afternoon, and they were welcome to come if they wanted. “Just keep it to yourself. I don’t want to get in trouble,” he said.

  Ryker told Klara where they were going, but no one else. Then the boys pretended to leave for the privy and followed the inside of the perimeter. No smoke showed over Slabtown. Soldiers kept watch at intervals, shielded by stacks of firewood, barrels, or earthworks.

  When the boys reached a place secluded from view, they lay on their backs in the dried grass and studied the clouds. Blue sky and wispy clouds proved much easier on their eyes than a blockhouse filled with crabby refugees and crying babies.

  “Did I tell you how Beller watched over me that day I climbed the tree?” Ryker said.

  “You mean the day you fell out of that cottonwood?” Sven said with a giggle. “It would have been funny except we were so afraid you would be killed.”

  “The day I almost broke my neck,” Ryker said.

  “At least you can write a story about it,” Sven said. “Though you haven’t talked about writing stories since Papa died.”

  “Been too busy, I guess,” Ryker said. He hadn’t thought about writing anything, not a poem or a story or anything. He sighed. Maybe he never would write anything again. Their teacher was dead. No one to teach him how to do it anymore, even if they managed to return to their farm.

  “You fell out of that tree like a leaf falling off a branch.” Sven’s voice grew serious. “We almost died of fright. What would we do without you?”

  “You would have figured something out,” Ryker said. “You showed better sense than I did during our escape.” He took a breath. “Klara shot the Indian before it could hurt us.” He watched a stream of clouds move across the sky. “I should have left the woman’s camp earlier, like you said. Johnny would be alive if I had listened. Now Johnny is dead, and it’s my fault.” The clouds scampered like small mice riding the prairie wind.

  They talked about Johnny, remembering his clumsy ways, his kind heart toward Elsa, and the way he had changed his opinion of their mother. Ryker would have to tell Frank the sad news of his parents and brother’s death. He did not look forward to that.

  “Martin says Mama is a saint,” Ryker said. “She’s good to everyone.”

  “I wonder where she is,” Sven said. “If only she had been with us when we were captured that first time. I would have taken her with us, when we got away.”

  Sadness welled within Ryker’s throat. The baby would be born soon. He hoped it would not be raised as a Sioux.

  “Lately I’ve been counting the miracles we’ve seen,” Sven said. “Klara going to school for our birthday and being gone from home when the Indians attacked.”

  “She could have been killed, like Papa,” Ryker said.

  “And finding Elsa on the prairie,” Sven said. “A miracle beyond miracles. Do you think an angel dropped her in our path?”

  “We were lost,” Ryker said, “but maybe we were in exactly the right place.” The awe and mystery of the thought sent his mind whirling. “Maybe it was God’s plan all along.”

  A flock of geese honked as they flew south in a jagged arrow shape. More clouds tripped overhead. Ryker had rarely seen the sky so blue, the air so clear.

  “And Beller fighting off the bear,” Sven said, “and the old Indian woman watching us escape without hindering us.”

  “I’ve been thinking about Papa lately,” Ryker said. “Mama said Papa wasn’t cut out to be a pioneer. She said they would have been better off staying in Norway, where they at least had family support during hard times.”

  Papa would be alive if they had stayed in Norway. Mama would be baking flatbread. Martin would be a student, not a soldier. How different their lives would be.

  “Papa said I didn’t listen,” Ryker said. “You were smart enough to know how much we needed Beller.”

  They gazed upward for a long moment without speaking. The blue sky was dotted with clouds like small strokes from a paintbrush, a hundred small wisps, almost like . . .

  “Angel wings,” Sven said. “Look at them, hundreds of angels.” He jumped to his feet and pointed. “It means we’re being rescued.” He took off running for the blockhouse. “I have to tell Klara.”

  Ryker tried to imagine what being rescued would feel like. Reinforcements coming from Fort Snelling might mean it would be safe to go home. But how would he ever manage to care for his family alone. He had turned fifteen during his journey to Fort Abercrombie. The haystacks were gone, the cattle taken, their good dog gone forever, and the crop ruined in the field. There might be potatoes in the garden patch, and if they were lucky the deer had left the squash alone. No neighbors would be there to help in times of trouble. No firewood put up for the coming winter. No geese or chickens to give them eggs. The few coins in his pouch would not be enough to buy food for the winter.

  He counted the angel wings overhead. At least a hundred, maybe more. They needed every single angel to help them to endure the coming months.

  CHAPTER 43

  * * *

  On their way back to the blockhouse, Ryker overheard Hannibal and Elmer talking about the Sioux. It was good news, for a change, and Ryker could hear exultation in their voices.

  “They’re leaving Slabtown,” Elmer said. “Taking down their tipis, loading up the grandmas, and heading out.”

  “What?” Ryker said. “All of them?”

  “Don’t know,” Hannibal said. “Hope they all go and stay gone.”

  “They’re whipped,” Elmer said and patted his arm still in a sling. “And they know it.”

  Other soldiers commented on hunting season and the need to store provisions for winter. “Might be why they’re going,” Hannibal said. “But seems odd to leave when they have us pinned to the wall.”

  “Some heathen trick,” Hannibal said. “Give us the idea they’re leaving, when in fact they’re readying for another attack.”

  Ryker stretched on tiptoe to see over the barricades. No smoke showed over Slabtown. No sign of the Indians. The sky had cleared leaving only the bluest blue. A cool fall wind came from the northwest, blowing smells from the stable to where he stood by the earthworks. Leaves crunched underfoot.

  Maybe it was really over, and they could retur
n home. As wonderful as that sounded, Ryker knew it meant a new level of problems. He must figure out a way to support his family. He was too young to be a man, but he had no choice.

  He knew how to make hay. However, it wasn’t haying season. Ryker knew how to milk cows, feed pigs, harvest feathers, plant a field, and tend a garden patch. He knew how to go to school, write a poem, and read a book. Somehow he had to corral enough skills to provide for Elsa and the twins. He wouldn’t let them starve. He would die rather than see them sent to an orphanage.

  By mid-afternoon, the whole fort knew that the Sioux were gone. The rumors changed from talking about why the reinforcements hadn’t come to talking about returning to their homesteads. Most were sick of Fort Abercrombie and willing to take the risk.

  “No one is allowed to leave until we know what’s happening,” Captain Vander Horck said. He said the Indians might have left for a pow-wow or some other custom. They might be back the next day. “We’ve put up with each other this long; we’ll see it through to the end.”

  “But, why did the Sioux leave?” Auntie Abigail called out. “We saw them leave. They wouldn’t do it without a reason.”

  “We’ll send out a patrol in the morning,” Captain Vander Horck said. “Until we know more, it’s business as usual at Fort Abercrombie.”

  A shout rang out through the fort. “Soldiers coming! Reinforcements on the way!”

  The blockhouse emptied out, as everyone rushed to the earthworks for a look. Sure enough, a line of soldiers in blue marched toward the fort on the Abercrombie Trail. Ryker couldn’t count them fast enough. It seemed more soldiers were coming than were stationed at Fort Abercrombie.

  “See,” Sven said. “I told you.”

  Ryker told Mathilde about the angel wings. Soon everyone in the fort knew about the sign from heaven and of help finally coming. Soldiers fired their weapons, and the bugler sounded a cheery call. Elsa danced and clapped, surely not understanding the commotion but loving the excitement of smiling people. Hannibal put two fingers into his mouth and whistled. Auntie Abigail, who had been as strong as a lion throughout the whole siege, sat on the bench next to the wash stand and wept.

  “Don’t mind me,” she said to anyone who would listen. “I always cry at good news.” Tears rolled down the folds of her plump face. “Don’t mind me.”

  A scraggly line of soldiers marched toward them led by a commanding officer riding a horse. Ryker didn’t see a single wisp of smoke over Slabtown. No wonder the Sioux had left. They had known about the reinforcements.

  They were saved. The siege was over.

  Captain Vander Horck ordered a military salute. Hannibal and Elmer were put on guard duty. Captain Vander Horck knew better than to completely trust the Sioux. Someone had to keep watch for a sneak attack.

  The civilians were not to be left out. They formed a double line across the parade ground and made ready to welcome their liberators. The soldiers neared—a foot-sore and battle weary lot they were—and straightened their lines. They marched forward with squared shoulders, heads held high.

  They were sweaty, dirty, and covered with dust. More than one wore a bandage, proof of injury or attack along the way. Many limped, some holding each other up with clasped arms. It had been a long march across Minnesota. Behind them rolled supply wagons pulled by army mules.

  The soldiers marched into the fort as the bugler played “Rally Round the Flag” accompanied by a drummer boy and a young woman on the fiddle. The besieged solders and citizens cheered and sang until they were hoarse.

  Yes, we’ll rally round the flag boys, we’ll rally once again.

  The fiddle player played so hard she busted a string.

  Sounding the trumpet call of freedom.

  Tears dripped down Ryker’s cheeks, and he didn’t care who saw them. They were saved. The siege was over.

  The Union forever, hurrah boys, hurrah!

  “They’ll bring mail,” Sven said. “Maybe news of Martin.”

  Ryker must write to Martin with the sad news of their parents when they knew where he was. He would write about Mama’s kidnapping and their ordeal of escape to Fort Abercrombie. More letters were needed to relatives in Norway and to Papa’s cousin in Dodge County. Ryker sighed. His writing days were not quite over.

  “They’ll bring news about the war,” Auntie Abigail said. She stood with the crowd, waving a white handkerchief and yelling until red veins popped alongside her temple. “Maybe I’ll hear about Robert,” she said. She sprang forward to kiss a grizzly man with a ragged beard. Then she grabbed Captain Vander Horck and kissed him right on the lips.

  The captain pulled back in surprise, and Auntie Abigail twirled and danced a jig.

  She danced as if the war were over, as if all the boys were coming home. Ryker elbowed Sven in his side and pointed to Auntie Abigail, who had grabbed Captain Vander Horck by his arms and was dancing in time to the music. She whirled and flounced her skirts, her fat cheeks jiggling, as the captain struggled to keep up.

  No one had heard how the Union was doing since the Sioux went on the warpath. Ryker half dreaded knowing. It could be bad news. He might learn that Martin had died. That Frank Schmitz had been killed. That the Union had fallen.

  But now was time for celebration.

  “Horsy,” Elsa said.

  Ryker swooped her up onto his shoulders. He cheered with the others and bounced until Elsa giggled and grabbed hold of his ears.

  Oh, it was a grand sight, to see the boys in blue marching through the cheering crowd. The women and girls followed Auntie Abigail’s example and kissed every soldier within reach. The bugler lost his wind, but the crowd sang without him. They finished Rally Round the Flag and then switched to a new song, one that had become the battle cry of the nation. The Battle Hymn of the Republic’s words sounded over the parade grounds. Glory, Glory, Hallelujah, His truth is marching on.

  There was not a dry eye in Fort Abercrombie. How long they had waited, terrified they might never be rescued. What losses and depredations they had endured. And now, reinforcements. Ryker knew that if he lived to be a hundred, he would never forget the wonderful feeling of deliverance experienced that day.

  Later, after the men rested and ate, there would be time for the news. He would ask about his brother. Someone might know something.

  Captain Vander Horck saluted their commanding officer, still catching his breath from his exuberant dance with Auntie Abigail. He then grasped his hand in welcome. Their officer handed Captain Vander Horck a dispatch pouch. News! Pandemonium broke out again. It was as if the people could not welcome them enough. They touched them, shook their hands, kissed them, and cheered them as conquering heroes. They were their boys. They were Americans who would whip the Sioux for good and let the settlers return to their lives on the prairie.

  Ryker lifted Elsa on top of his head so she could see over the crowd. She pulled his hair and kicked her little feet against his neck. The twins climbed a stack of firewood for a better view.

  Mathilde Jacobs grabbed a young soldier around his neck and kissed his cheek. Ryker didn’t like it. They were just friends, but it seemed untoward for Mathilde to kiss a stranger. To make it even worse, the soldier turned and took her in his arms. He kissed her in return. Only he kissed her full on the mouth.

  Ryker’s heart thumped in his chest. It couldn’t be. He strained for a closer look. He lifted Elsa off his head and handed her to Klara. The soldier wore a beard, but only one person he knew had that mop of yellow hair and lopsided grin.

  Martin!

  CHAPTER 44

  * * *

  Ryker had to know for sure. “Martin!” He pushed through the crowd “Martin!” His voice was lost in the cheering crowd. Ryker shoved Mrs. Kelly aside and squirmed past Mathilde. He must find out if his brother lived.

  He ran after the soldier, who was now kissing Auntie Abigail. Or rather, Auntie Abigail was hugging and kissing him. Ryker grabbed his arm and jerked him around to face him.

 
; “What’s going on?” the soldier said. The voice was Papa’s, but the face was Martin’s.

  “Is it really you?”

  “Little brother?” Martin said. “Thank God. I’ve been worried sick ever since I heard about the Indians.”

  The brothers embraced. It felt like a dream, a good dream that Ryker hoped would never end. Martin alive. Martin here at Fort Abercrombie. It would have been enough to know that he lived, even to have known that he languished in a prison camp, but to have him home again . . . A miracle. Another miracle.

  “Your brother?” Auntie Abigail fanned her flushed face with a lacy handkerchief. “Lord have mercy!”

  “I knew you weren’t dead,” Ryker said. “You couldn’t be.”

  “Dead?” Martin said with a dismissive shake of his head. “Taken prisoner, not killed. Damn Rebs. Didn’t you get my letters?”

  The brothers hugged again. Martin almost crushed Ryker with his bulging muscles. He had grown into a man. He smelled of tobacco and stale sweat. Dirt and dust encrusted his uniform. A jagged scar stretched across his left cheek, mostly hidden by a heavy beard.

  The twins, with Elsa in tow, exploded onto Martin. The happiness that Ryker felt equaled the degree of sadness felt with Papa’s death, the Tingvolds’ massacre, Johnny’s torture, and Mama being taken. Ryker turned his thoughts away from the sorrows of recent weeks and focused instead on the pure joy of Martin’s return.

  “Look how you’ve grown!” Martin twirled Klara around and gave Sven a playful punch. “You’re almost as tall as I am.”

  “Horsy.” Elsa squealed and jumped up and down. She had been newborn when Martin left home. She clung to Ryker’s legs when Martin tried to pick her up.

  “Don’t give me that,” Martin said. He kissed Elsa and jiggled her to stop her crying. “I’m your older brother.” Elsa howled and stuck her finger into his nostril.