Charity

by Paulette Callen

  With surprising agility, Dorcas stepped up into the wagon seat and took up the reins. Gustie helped Jordis up and squeezed in beside her. Biddie pulled them off the fairgrounds out along the winding wagon path that would take them back to Crow Kills.

  Happiness played upon Jordis’s face. “I saw him,” she said.

  “Who did you see?” Gustie tucked the shawl securely around Jordis so she would not get a chill and kept an arm around her. The heat from Jordis’s body gave off the scent of sage.

  “He came down out of the sky like a bird, but he was a man, and his hair was long and stretched far behind him like a road to the ends of the earth.”

  “Who?”

  “My brother. And he was not a boy. He was a man. The age he would be now if he’d been allowed to grow. He is a man, and he told me to dance the Eagle Dance. He told me he was happy. He told me not to be afraid to dance the Eagle.” Jordis’s eyes were bright.

  Gustie tenderly pushed the damp hair off Jordis’s forehead. “Jordis, you laughed.” She spoke softly. “What made you laugh?”

  Jordis laughed again, a deep, chesty laugh, and her head came back against Gustie’s shoulder. She laughed. “Because he said he didn’t give a shit about my hair!”

  A cold wind swept off the lake. The trees creaked and branches scraped against each other. Leaves rattled under a swiftly darkening sky.

  “Smell the rain,” said Dorcas.

  As she helped Jordis down from the wagon, Gustie said, “I’ll take the tent tonight.”

  Dorcas nodded.

  “I’ll see to the horses,” said Gustie, finally giving Jordis over to her grandmother’s care.

  Gustie unhitched Biddie and brought her and Moon together down to the lake to drink. On the farther shore, a doe stepped gingerly down to the water’s edge. She gazed at Gustie and the horses without alarm, then disappeared into the blackness behind her. Gustie’s already full heart was moved almost to overflowing at the sight of her.

  She tethered the horses close together in the shelter of the trees behind the cabin and fastened a blanket over each of them—some protection if there was hail. She left them each a bucket of oats.

  When Gustie returned the cabin was cloudy with aromatic steam from some brew Dorcas had made Jordis drink.

  Jordis was already under a blanket on the cot usually occupied by Gustie. She looked half asleep.

  Gustie leaned over her and put a hand on her forehead. It was cool and dry. Jordis opened her eyes and whispered, “You going to play at being Indian?”

  Gustie smiled and nodded.

  “Good luck,” Jordis replied softly and drifted to sleep.

  “Take this.” Dorcas handed Gustie a hammer.

  “What’s this for?”

  “Pound the stakes more. Give ’em an extra whack. Otherwise, you blow away.”

  Gustie went out and did as she was told. The wind was now even stronger. Even though Jordis had pitched the tent under the trees, the canvas heaved and strained against the wind. The stakes held.

  Inside the tent, Gustie wrapped herself in a blanket and listened as Crow Kills crashed against its boundaries of rock and bank and slapped up against the trees that guarded its shore. She felt quite snug. The thunder rolled across the lake, and a sheet of rain covered everything, muting every other sound, except the voice she heard in her head just before she fell asleep. “When the potatoes boil dry, it means it’s going to storm.”

  “You’re back early.” Lena said. She appeared neither glad to see him nor reproachful of his absence. She sat at the kitchen table nibbling a slice of bread.

  Will hung up his hat and stamped the dust off his shoes before entering the kitchen. “Yup. Well... I rode Ole Tom pretty hard. I think it’s going to storm. Tried to beat it back.”

  He washed his hands and Lena poured his coffee and set a plate and knife before him. Will helped himself to bread and butter.

  They chewed and sipped quietly. The wind came up and battered the window panes. Will said, “It’s going to be a real corker.”

  Lena carefully brushed errant bread crumbs off the table onto her empty plate and pushed it aside. “Iver stopped by after you left. I gave him all my pies to take to the fairgrounds. Told him to leave them with Alvinia where the ladies were serving lunch. Kept one for us.”

  Lena took her plate to the sink, refilled her coffee cup, and sat back down while Will had a second slice of bread and jam. When he was through he said, “A piece of that pie might go good if there’s any more coffee.”

  Lena rose to accommodate her husband.

  Will began casually, “I don’t think that piker will be hangin’ around here anymore.” He chuckled and enjoyed the telling of Peter Madigan’s fear of the Indians as much as he enjoyed Lena’s pie. When he got to the part about the braying mule he laughed out loud. Even Lena had to smile.

  After a pause, he said, “Gustie’s a great gal. Been a good friend to us, all right. No question about that.”

  “No one could say any different.”

  “Those Indian ladies—they’re nice women. Met the old chief and his son, too. They seem like nice fellas.”

  Lena’s neck stiffened, and she felt her lips getting taut.

  “And they sure think the world of Gustie,” Will added for good measure.

  “Apparently.” Lena had listened to Will’s story, her hurt feelings equal to her interest in this part of Gustie’s life that her friend had kept hidden from her. “I guess she’s spent a lot of time out there with them.” She paused. “And never saw fit to mention it.”

  “Nope. I guess not.” Will rubbed his forehead and ran his hand over his hair, ending with a scratch behind his ear. “It was Gustie, you know, put up my bail and hired Pard.” Will had saved that for last.

  Lena opened her mouth but could say nothing.

  “I know you thought Walt and Oscar and maybe Ma had a part in that, but they never done anything like that for me and never would. I knew it wasn’t them. Dennis and me figured it out. Had to be Gustie. And when I asked Pard, he said that was confidential information. So I figured Gus had a reason to not tell us. I just figured she’d tell you when she got good and ready. Now, I guess I know why she didn’t tell us. But I haven’t got it figured out yet. Something about that woman she came out here with who died. That must have been a rough go, and she didn’t want to talk about it. I don’t know. But I’m tellin’ you now just so you have it in mind.”

  Lena’s spine became board straight. “We’ll pay it back. Every penny.” Her fingers traced the rim of her coffee cup.

  “Don’t think she expects that. No telling how long it would take me to pay back that kind of money.” Will peered out the dark kitchen window.

  Lena cleared her throat and was about to offer to take in washing to bring in extra money, but Will didn’t let her begin speaking.

  “You’re smarter than me, Duchy. Always was. I always knew it and was proud of you for it. You think about things—religion and all—things that don’t mean nothing to me.” Will drained his coffee cup and sat it down with more delicacy than she was used to seeing in him. “I seen people go to church on Sunday and do nothing but meanness Monday through Saturday.”

  “Medicine is for the sick, and church is for the sinner,” Lena affirmed.

  When she was in one of her righteous moods, Will was no match for her. But this time he gave it extra effort. With a sigh, he said, pushing his empty plate away from him, “Well, I never seen Gustie do anything but good by the people around here. She’s sure been a great pal to me. I know you don’t like Indians and now Gustie’s got them as her friends. Maybe that’s why she didn’t tell you. She knew you wouldn’t like it. Guess she figured what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you. Come to think of it, it didn’t either. As far as the Indians go, as far as I can see, they have their good ones and their bad ones
like everybody else. I owe her. And I’m not going to see her thrown to the wolves around here.”

  “You make it sound like she’s going to be taken out and tarred and feathered or something. That’s foolishness.”

  “Well, I know how people can get started on something around here and get carried away with it.”

  Lena’s gall was rising. “What would you know about that? You’re always drunk and out of your mind someplace while I have to face this town. Don’t tell me what people chew over. I’ve been chewed over enough! You don’t care about that, though, do you?”

  Will was confused. He had been talking about Gustie, and now Lena was in a fit over his drinking. He hadn’t had a drink since the night his Pa was killed, and he swore he’d never have another. That sip of Walter’s whiskey at the open house sure didn’t count for much.

  “It’s going to be all over town that Gustie is laying around with those Indians over on the reservation, and it won’t matter that they think the world of her or that she’s your pal or any other blame thing. Being your pal is no great recommendation anyway.” Lena threw her spoon down, and it clattered against her saucer. She almost tipped the chair over as she pushed away from the table and ran into the bedroom and slammed the door.

  Will rubbed his face hard and went outside to bed down his horse.

  Gustie had no idea of the time, but she thought she could not have slept more than two or three hours. The wind still strained the moorings of the tent, but she no longer heard the sound of rain pelting the canvas. She lifted the tent flap. The sky was very dark except for a star here and there twinkling through breaks in the clouds. She slipped outside the tent and felt the wind lift her hair, the earth wet and bristly under her bare feet. By instinct she found her footing up the incline, past the cottonwood tree by the grave, and beyond to where the land rolled in ever steeper undulations. She walked into the wind until she came to the crest of the highest rise.

  She stopped, put her hands on her hips and looked up. As the wind blew, more and more stars began to shine through until the sky became a patchwork of solid black and starry black. Occasionally there was even a glimpse of moon. Her loose hair blew wildly in a constant swirl around her head. She tucked her skirt beneath her to keep it from flapping and sat with her arms wrapped around her pulled up knees and became happily a part of the storm-swept prairie.

  Under the sound of the wind in her ears, she heard her name and she turned her head. “I didn’t want to startle you.” Jordis stood next to her, not looking at her but at the sky. She was wearing the clothes Gustie had first seen her in the day she appeared on Moon with the chickens for Dorcas. “Do you want to be alone?” Jordis continued to stare up at the sky.

  “No,” Gustie said simply.

  Jordis descended slowly to her knees and sat back comfortably, her hands resting on her thighs. “What are you doing up here?”

  “Watching the wind blow the clouds around.”

  The wind eased a little. Gustie said, “What are you doing here?”

  “I saw you...when the moon came out for just a moment...I saw you silhouetted here. I...” Jordis stopped herself.

  Gustie laughed softly, “...thought I might do some more scarifying?”

  “No.” Gustie thought she heard a smile in Jordis’s voice. “I was just curious as to what you were doing out in a wind storm in the middle of the night.”

  “I was wide awake. I like weather. I like feeling it. Not always being separated from it.”

  The wind filled their ears once more, then calmed a bit.

  “I’m sorry I rode away from you.” Jordis looked out over the dark prairie.

  Gustie replied, “I pushed. I shouldn’t have. It’s not my place.”

  A splash of moonlight tumbled over the edge of a cloud revealing Jordis’s face full of things unspoken, and her eyes, large, luminous, surprised in their sheltering darkness, unclothed—without that hard glint that dared anyone to see anything of her through them. The moonlight lingered, and Gustie looked away out of courtesy, not having been invited to see so much.

  “We could not sleep in your house. We made you angry.”

  “Yes.”

  Neither could give or expected an apology.

  The clouds made another effort to unite over the moon. They held for a few minutes before breaking up again, giving way before the insistent wind, and the high round moon shone whole.

  Jordis said, “Do you know that I can quote Shakespeare; I can even read French, but I can’t speak the Dakotah language with my people?” Not exactly a question. More like an invitation.

  Gustie turned toward Jordis, moving herself to a kneeling position so their eyes were on a level with each other. A thick strand of hair blew across her face.

  Jordis moved the hair away with two fingers and held it back with the side of her hand. Gustie’s hair blew about fiercely with a life of its own like the clouds, and Jordis brought up her other hand and softy brushed it aside. She kept her hands there lightly framing Gustie’s face.

  Gustie’s fingertips wandered over the backs of Jordis’s hands. Her left hand lingered, covering Jordis’s right hand on her cheek, while her right hand traced the outline of Jordis’s lips, her chin, her cheek bones, those heavily lidded eyes. “I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again,” she said.

  “You’ll always see me again,” said Jordis, so softly that Gustie didn’t know if she had heard her or merely read the words on her lips.

  The moon, fully liberated now, made silver the edges of the clouds most near to it and sailing away from it like galleons casting off from a light house—its beam flung along the shuddering grass to where Gustie and Jordis knelt and pulled themselves close together in a kiss as inevitable and surprising as a child’s first word.

  The kiss lasted a long time. Then they rose and walked, hand locked in hand, back to Jordis’s tent.

  That night, Gustie rode the eagle’s wing and cried hot tears on Jordis’s breast.

  The Eagle beats his wing upon the drum and Eagle children fly among the stars. Their wings hum the night music. And I, who had no voice, sing. I, who had no music, dance. I, who had no place, roam the land where Eagle flies.

  She brings the stars down from the skies and puts them in my hands.

  Harvest Moon

  After just a handful of summer, a cool breeze sifted through the hot winds of August, and every prairie dweller knew that there would be no lingering autumn to enjoy, but a quick freeze, hard ground, and heavy skies to contend with soon.

  Chief Good Wolf was dead, proving Dorcas prescient that he would not see another winter. Little Bull was chief. Winnie was nearing her time to bring forth a sibling for Leonard.

  Will Kaiser was released by a bored judge after a half-hearted prosecution by John Anderson and a meticulous presentation by Pard Batie on the shallowness of the evidence.

  Gustie got her money back, except for Pard’s fee, which was modest. She suspected he took less than his usual. She bought herself a saddle and a split skirt and in the remaining days before the start of school rode Biddie every day. She was not good at it. She laughed at herself and frequently apologized to the mare. Yet, somehow, they got along, and she became more and more secure on horseback.

  Gustie had to learn to ride if she was to shorten the distance between Charity and Crow Kills. Even so, the weather would soon be the biggest obstacle between Gustie and Jordis. Neither could leave where they were to live with the other. Gustie had her school; Jordis would not leave Dorcas, especially not during the winter. In the coldest months, Jordis shared Dorcas’s cabin; her small army-issue tent was no weatherproof tipi. Even if Gustie could make the trip through cold and snow, Dorcas’s cabin could not accommodate three people for long.

  While Gustie rode on and off the Red Sand at will, Jordis stole in and out of Gustie’s life at night. The only other visitors Gusti
e had were Orville Ackerman who did indeed build her a nice fence, and Will Kaiser, who gave her the lumber from the barn they had torn down—Ma’s old big barn. Gertrude had asked for it to be brought down. Apparently she didn’t want to look at the place where her husband had met his end. So the boys (even Frederick donned work pants and chipped in) dismantled it board by board. Will took what he knew Gustie needed for her fence, Walter and Oscar claimed the rest for their own purposes.

  Will stopped in two or three times a week for a visit and a cup of coffee. He was casual. Always just “passing by,” but Gustie knew he took special pains to see her. Lena remained conspicuous by her absence, and Gustie stayed away from Lena. Gustie knew that word had filtered back to Charity that she had been seen at the Wheat Lake pow wow, probably even that she had left the grounds with the same two “squaws” she had befriended in Charity. She knew that there were those in Charity who, if they knew, did not care, and there were those who cared very much. Gustie had little concern for what people said about her, but she did care what was said about Lena, because Lena cared so very much. So she kept away from her friend for friendship’s sake.

  Will sat at her table, sipping coffee, making the usual small talk. Gustie asked, “How is Lena, Will?”

  “Like a long stretch of bad weather.” He scratched the side of his jaw. “She’s doing good,” he said at length, with a little lopsided shrug of his shoulder. He reached for his coffee.

  Gustie thought he would end the subject there. In over two years with this stoical people, she had learned that that was frequently all anyone would say about anyone else, no matter what difficulties or feelings might lie beneath the surface.

  Will surprised her by continuing. “She’s a stubborn one. She gets things into her head—you don’t know what they are half the time, or where they come from—but it takes an act of the Almighty to move them out again. I’ve tried talking to her but she just...You see, about Lena, she’s got to understand everything. Explain everything. Be right about everything. Always been like that. She comes up against something she don’t understand, it’s like she comes on a house with a locked door. No, she’ll try with all her might to knock that door down, peek in the windows. She’ll try everything every which way, but if the door don’t open and the windows don’t give, she’ll never go near that house again. She’ll pretend the house isn’t there. She’ll go a mile out of her way around it so she don’t have to look at it. You know?”