Carrie shook her head. Her heart was pounding. “Yes, yes. I see. It’s a good idea. Thank you.” She began to descend the stairs and he climbed up beside her, awkwardly trying to take her arm, not knowing what to do. “If you’ll just take Ida Mae from under my arm, I can manage the rest just fine.”
Soaring Eagle took the bundle and put it under the wagon seat. He turned just as Carrie was stepping onto the log. It wobbled a little, and when he reached to steady her, he knocked one cane away. To keep from falling, she laid her hand on his shoulder. When she had climbed into the wagon box, she smiled down at him. “Thank you, Soaring Eagle. You’re very patient.”
Soaring Eagle retrieved the cane he had knocked away, tossing it into the wagon box. He walked back around and got up beside her. He picked up the reins and urged the team to a walk. “Thank you for bringing Ida Mae. It was a lovely surprise.”
“I didn’t want to interrupt the picnic.”
“How did you ever manage to get her on my desk without being seen?”
“The window.”
Carrie nodded. The wagon passed the osage hedge along the rode and crossed the creek before Carrie said, “Charity Bond wrote that you might be coming. I didn’t think it would be until later this spring.”
“I wanted—” He stopped in midsentence. “Dr. Riggs thought I should come now.”
“I’m sorry about the Cheyenne River work. I’m sure it will go better this spring.”
He shrugged. “I have given up trying to understand God’s ways.”
Carrie was quiet. It was a warm afternoon and she felt her palms sweating. She pulled off her mittens, hiding her hands by gripping the edge of the wagon seat.
“Isn’t J.W. a wonderful child?”
Soaring Eagle nodded. “He likes to pull my hair.”
Carrie chuckled. “Mine, too. LisBeth is such a good mother—” She broke off, suddenly uncomfortable mentioning motherhood in his presence.
“You seem well.”
“Yes, I’m fine.” She tried to fill the silence between them. “Except for riding Lakota, I seem to be able to do just about everything.”
“Why can you not ride Lakota?”
Carrie regretted having said it. Now she had to explain. She bit her lip. “I’m not strong enough to pull myself up. And with the fronts of my feet—” she stopped and then added. “Well, I just can’t seem to balance properly to mount. Anyway, if I ever fell off, which is a distinct possibility since I’m not the best rider, I’d be stuck, and,” she laughed nervously, “as you saw back at the school, I’m not quite ready for a three-mile walk.”
Soaring Eagle thought for a moment. “I can teach you to ride better.”
“Are you staying, then, at the Callaways’?”
“For a while. To help Jim with spring planting. To see Lakota’s foal.”
Carrie said softly, “I’d like to be able to ride better.”
Soaring Eagle began to think of a way to help Carrie Brown mount a horse without help. Conversation ended abruptly, but communication did not, for as they rode along, Carrie Brown and Jeremiah Soaring Eagle King were well aware that the space between them was filled with unspoken words.
Soaring Eagle began working with Lakota the next morning. He was up at dawn, putting the little mare through her paces until she flawlessly switched from one gait to another, changing leads on command, stopping, trotting, galloping at the first command she received.
On Saturday morning Carrie walked to the barn breathless with excitement. When Soaring Eagle lifted her into the saddle, she fumbled awkwardly with the stirrups, trying in vain to get her feet positioned correctly. Soaring Eagle draped the stirrups over the horn of the saddle. “I have been told it is not proper to say this word,” he smiled, “but I must. Grip with your knees, Carrie. Learn to ride without the stirrups.”
After the first lesson, Carrie groaned when she hobbled back to the house, but she was happily exhausted. As time went on, her young muscles responded to the new demands, and she found that she could, indeed, ride without stirrups, which meant that the problem her surgery presented in balancing her weight in the stirrups was solved. She barely put any weight in the stirrups, compensating instead with newly strengthened leg muscles.
“But I still have to have help to mount,” she said to LisBeth one evening after supper. “I don’t quite know what to do about that.”
“Jim doesn’t mind taking you to school, Carrie. By next year we’ll have a carriage. Then you can drive yourself.”
Carrie shook her head. “I know, I know, but I’d still like to be able to get myself there and back. I want to be useful, LisBeth, not a burden.”
“You’re not a burden, Carrie.”
At that moment Jim came to the kitchen door. “Come outside, ladies. We have something to show you.”
Soaring Eagle and Jim stood at the back door, with Lakota saddled and bridled. Carrie and LisBeth went outside. Jim motioned to Carrie. “Come over here Carrie, on this side, where you mount.”
Jim handed Carrie a riding crop. “Now, Carrie, touch her on the foreleg and say, “Down, Lakota, down.” Carrie complied and to her amazement, Lakota bent her foreleg and knelt down.
“Can you pull yourself into the saddle by yourself, Red Bird?” Soaring Eagle asked gently.
Carrie nodded and did just that.
Jim said, “Now, when you’re ready, touch her flank with the crop and say, “Up, Lakota, up.” The moment Carrie said the words, Lakota got up.
LisBeth clasped her hands under her chin and shook her head. “I never would have believed it! How did you ever get her to do that? Carrie always said Lakota was so stubborn!”
Soaring Eagle smiled. “I am more stubborn than Lakota. She didn’t like learning it, but she learned it. And she will do it, whenever it is needed.” He patted Lakota and looked up at Carrie. “Now you can ride to school. You don’t need help—except from Lakota.”
Carrie was fighting back tears. “I don’t know how to thank you,” she said in a half whisper. Abruptly, she bent over and kissed Soaring Eagle on the cheek. “Thank you, Soaring Eagle. Thank you.” Taking Lakota’s reins in hand she said, “Will you ride with me?” Soaring Eagle nodded and went into the barn. Quickly putting a bridle on his horse, he jumped astride bareback and joined Carrie for an evening ride.
When Carrie Brown and Soaring Eagle came back from their ride, Jim and LisBeth had gone to bed, leaving a lamp lighted in the window and hot coffee on the stove. Soaring Eagle reached for Lakota’s reins, but Carrie shook her head. “No, if you’ll give me time I’d like to brush her down myself.”
Together, they led their horses into the barn, currying and brushing and cleaning hooves without saying much, until Soaring Eagle went to check Bear’s hind feet. With one swift motion, Bear lifted Soaring Eagle off his feet and sent him flying. He landed with a thud and a look of surprise on his face that sent Carrie into gales of laughter.
“I’d say you’ve spent too much time teaching Lakota to kneel and not enough time breaking Bear’s bad habit.”
Soaring Eagle got up, rubbing his back and laughing.
Carrie perched on a bale of hay and watched while he insisted on picking up Bear’s foot, again and again, until Bear stopped trying to kick.
Together they walked back to the house. “They’ve gone to bed,” Carrie said quietly. “The lamp’s in the window.”
“Sit here with me,” Soaring Eagle invited, sitting down on the porch and leaning against the railing.
Carrie settled opposite him. Once again, unspoken words hung in the air. Soaring Eagle pulled a few down and said, “I have been angry with God about you.”
“About me?”
“I didn’t think it was right for Him to let that happen—in the blizzard.”
Carrie was quiet for a long time before she said anything. Finally, she answered, “I was angry for a while too. I didn’t think it was fair.”
“But you are no longer angry.”
In the gathering dark, Car
rie shook her head. “No. I’m not.”
“Why?”
She gathered her thoughts and said carefully, “Well, ultimately, of course, because of the Lord. But getting over the anger began with your mother.”
He was amazed. “My—mother?”
Carrie nodded and began to tell Soaring Eagle about her ride into Lincoln for her surgery, the realization of everyone else’s trials, and, finally, reading Jesse’s Bible. “Would you like to hear some of the things that spoke to me the most?”
It was Soaring Eagle’s turn to nod in the half-light. He was watching her with a curious look in his eyes. It made Carrie’s heart beat a little faster. She looked away and began to recite. “‘Who hath made man’s mouth? Or who maketh the dumb, or deaf, or the seeing, or the blind? Have not I, the Lord?’ I really didn’t like that verse. But there it was. I had to deal with it. Was He the Lord or wasn’t He? Could He have rescued me from that blizzard? Absolutely. But He didn’t. Why didn’t He? I don’t know. But I do know that He is Lord. He has a purpose and He is not obligated to tell me His purpose. If He didn’t explain the ‘why’ to Job—the most righteous man on the earth—He certainly doesn’t have to explain anything to little Carrie Brown.
“A passage that really challenged me was in Romans. It says, ‘Who are you, O man, who answers back to God? The thing molded will not say to the molder, “why did you make me thus?” Will it? Or does the potter have a right over the clay.” She laughed nervously. “I may have given up that ridiculous notion of the wild Sioux and the little redhead, but there was still a lot of Carrie Brown’s will that needed to be kicked out of me, I guess.” She reflected for a moment before saying softly, “It’s such a battle being pleasing to God. After the blizzard, I looked around me and there stood a multitude of people who had each one faced trials just as difficult as mine—if not more so—and come out victorious. They picked up the pieces of their lives, they sang praises to God, and they went on to live useful lives. I decided I wanted to be one of those kinds of people. So I’m trying to ‘humble myself under the mighty hand of God’ and get on with serving Him in the best way I can.”
Soaring Eagle reached across and took her hand. It was her left hand—without two fingers—and she unconsciously made a fist and tried to pull it away. But he didn’t let go and she stopped resisting. Gently, he pulled her fist open, bending to kiss each finger, and the scar. “Carrie Brown,” he said softly. “Jim Callaway was right. You are quite a little woman.”
He reached down and cupped her chin in one hand. “The man who finally wins your heart will have won something to be treasured.” Backing away from her, he turned and walked toward the barn.
Carrie made her way slowly to her room and stretched out on her bed. Why, Lord, is it happening now? Just when I was content to be a teacher. Just when I could say to his face that I had given up the notion of the wild Sioux, he kisses my hand, and my heart beats faster, and I still feel there is so much to be said. But the words just hang there. I can’t seem to gather them.
In the barn, Soaring Eagle picked up a curry comb and began to groom Lakota. When he had finished, he stepped out to look up at the stars and pray.
Chapter 32
My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, . . . Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
Song of Solomon 2:10–13
Well, are you?” Jim asked Soaring Eagle. They were working together on the team’s harness, preparing to plow a new field.
Soaring Eagle looked up. “Am I what?”
“Are you going to marry Carrie Brown?”
Soaring Eagle looked down at his work. He smiled. “The better question is, is Carrie Brown going to marry me?”
“No problem with that one, my friend. You ask. She answers yes.”
“Are you so certain?”
“You know, Soaring Eagle, at times I can’t decide if you’re trying to be the stoic, noble savage—trying to wait upon God—or just plain slow. You’ve been here for three weeks. You think I’m blind? You’re in love with her, Soaring Eagle. So get on with it,” Jim grinned and tossed him a rag, “and get out of my barn. Unless, of course you were planning to wait and see J.W. graduate from school.”
Soaring Eagle was suddenly very serious. “I am much older than Carrie.”
“And my father was older than my mother. And Rides the Wind was older than Jesse. It doesn’t matter. She loves you. I can see it. And if I were stupid enough not to have noticed, LisBeth has confirmed my suspicions.”
“Well,” Soaring Eagle offered, “I have been praying.”
“And how do you expect God to answer your prayer unless you ask some worthy female to marry you? Listen. Carrie Brown has loved you since she was a little girl. She lives, eats, drinks, breathes, and dreams you. She’s grown into a beautiful woman who has a sincere love for the Lord and a desire to serve Him. Now just what, exactly, is she lacking that you’ve been praying for?”
Soaring Eagle grinned. “A suitor with the courage to ask her.”
Jim grunted. “Let me get this right. You jumped off a cliff trusting two eaglets to land you safely. You fought alongside Sitting Bull. You went to school in Boston. You’ve stood before congregations made up of retired military men who hated you. But now, you’re suddenly afraid to ask a little redheaded girl who weighs less than a hundred pounds to marry you?” Jim tossed his rag down and stood up. “I give up, my friend. You’re going to die a lonely old man.”
Jim left the barn half angry, marched to the house, and stormed inside where he grabbed up J.W. and hugged LisBeth fiercely.
“Did you talk to him?” LisBeth wanted to know.
Jim nodded. “And a lot of good it did. For a brave man, LisBeth, your brother is a real coward.”
But Soaring Eagle was to overcome his fear. He spent the rest of the day while Carrie Brown was teaching school praying. Early in the afternoon, LisBeth and Jim saw him ride out of the farmyard on Bear. He had pulled on his ceremonial shirt and moccasins, and was riding bareback.
Carrie Brown had worn a cornflower blue calico dress to school that day. She stayed at her desk long after the children had departed, preparing an especially challenging vocabulary quiz for the next day. She was writing on the blackboard, her back turned to the door. In his moccasins, Soaring Eagle was able to climb the stairs, enter the schoolroom, and slide into a seat in the back row unnoticed. He sat quietly, watching her concentrate, becoming more aware of his own racing pulse. When she finally turned around, she started and then smiled an appropriately friendly smile that changed into something else when he stood up and she saw his ceremonial shirt.
He ran his hand across the beading on the chest of the shirt and said, “I have a story to tell you, Carrie—a Lakota story.” He cleared his throat and began to talk. “Once, there was a Lakota boy who was frightened and angry. He had lost his way in the world. But as he went along, a little red bird flew down from a tree. She whispered to him not to be afraid, and she led him through many things that frightened him. When she had to fly away, she left part of herself in the little boy’s heart. And whenever he was afraid, he would think of his friend.
“The Lakota boy grew up and saw this little bird, and she had changed into a young woman. She was so beautiful that he wanted to take her in his arms and keep her for himself. But he thought, you are too old. You are too poor. Your life is hard. You cannot ask such a beautiful thing to come down so low and live with you. So the young man went away. There were other women who tried to woo him, but he could think only of his friend.
“And then one day the Lakota man learned that the young woman was sick. She was far away, and he could not reach her in time to help her get well. By the time he found her, she was well again, and more beautiful than ever before. And the Lakota man still feared. You are too old. You are too poor. Your life is hard.
You cannot ask such a beautiful thing to come down so low as to live with you.”
Carrie walked to the edge of the desk and whispered, “And how does the story end, Soaring Eagle?”
“Well, the Lakota man did many things to show the woman that he cared for her. Still, whenever they were together, unspoken words hung in the air like fog. One day, the man’s friend reminded him that if he did not speak, then he would die a lonely, old man, never having known joy for fear of having pain.”
Soaring Eagle walked slowly up the aisle and looked up at Carrie. She had never seen the light in his eyes, the look on his face, and her heart began to thump as he said, “Tell me, Carrie Brown. If an eagle were to ask a red bird to share his nest, would the red bird accept? Would she stay when the winds blew, when there was little food, when the nest was poor, when the cliffs were high. Would she want to share such a life, or would it be too much for the eagle to ask? If she came to the eagle’s nest, what kind of children . . .”
The question about children was interrupted by the joyful cry of a tiny redheaded woman flinging herself into the arms of her beloved man of God. But it was answered in time.
Jesse Red Eagle King, tall and athletic, was thoughtful and quiet. He studied law.
Alfred Red Eagle King, wiry and strong, homesteaded in Wyoming.
Walter Red Eagle King, the brilliant one, was working his way through the University of Nebraska when he contracted diphtheria and died.
The well-known Lincoln hosteler Augusta Hathaway saw to it that Walter was buried in Wyuka Cemetery beside his paternal grandmother, Jesse King.
John Red Eagle King went east to his father’s alma mater, Beloit, later to become the pastor of a tiny church in Dakota.
Rachel Red Eagle King, the first girl, lived only three days.
LisBeth Red Eagle King accompanied her husband to China as a missionary.
And their parents lived and labored and loved in a tiny village on the Cheyenne River with few people knowing or caring about the battles waged and won and lost for the hearts of a few poverty-stricken Lakota Sioux.
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