by Connie Vines
I tried to turn my friend's thoughts to another matter. My feelings for Jacob, and my plans for the future, were still very confused. When I first came to the school I thought I could escape the white ways and return home. During the two years I've lived here, I learned that this was no longer possible.
“I do not want Jacob to join the army,” I said, voicing my fears.
Mary Billy frowned. “Sally Two-Birds told me Jacob's grandfather was very ill.”
“Yes. I know this is a great worry for Jacob,” I replied. “I fear that he will join the army. . .”
“And what, Tay?”
“That he will join the army and live far from his people. I am worried the army will not keep its promise and Jacob's grandfather will die before he is able to see him.”
At that moment, Jenny Blackhawk walked into the kitchen, placing a bowl filled with snap beans on the counter.
“I do not wish to speak out of turn,” she said, glancing at me. “But I saw Jacob Five-Wounds talking to Anna Thunder yesterday afternoon.”
Whirling around to face Jenny, Mary Billy said, “Jacob only has eyes for Tay.”
I felt my heart pounding against my ribcage at Jenny Blackhawk’s words. I swallowed my anger and remained silent.
“This may be so Mary,” Jenny said. “Still, he spoke soft words to the Comanche. I think Tay should know of this.”
“Jacob Five-Wounds has not declared his intentions,” I said, no longer able to still my feelings. I felt their eyes upon me and the heat of embarrassment climbed face. “It is Anna Thunder’s right to speak with him.”
Jenny Blackhawk started to speak, but Mary lifted her chin and the girl kept silent.
“Tay is right, Jenny. Jacob Five-Wounds is not pledged to her. He may spend time with any girl he chooses.”
It was at this moment; Doctor Joseph strode into the room.
The other girls, still in awe of the doctor, quickly rose to their feet and said their goodbyes.
Doctor Joseph smiled and wished them good evening in his usual calm voice.
“I have photographs for you to look at Tay,” he said.
Placing a leather-bound book upon the dining table, he motioned for me to take a seat.
Adjusted my skirt, I sat upon the chair, careful not to allow my back to touch the chair’s back. The wood was uncomfortable, but soon my thoughts were focused upon other matters. Doctor Joseph came and stood behind me, resting his palm upon my shoulder.
“See, Tay. There is another world out there. A world in the making for our people. These are photographs of the Cheyenne reservation.”
The comforting warmth of his palm against the fabric of my sleeve and the fragrance of sweet sage all around me. I felt the emotions churn inside me. Emotions I had long forgotten.
My feelings were not like the breathlessness I felt when Jacob Five-Wounds stood near. My feelings were of hope and joy and eagerness. These were things I had not felt since I was taken from my people two years ago.
Doctor Joseph made me believe there was a tomorrow. A tomorrow I would welcome.
I thought of Grandfather, of his hopes and his dreams. I wondered if he would lead his people to this reservation the doctor spoke of.
“What manner of tipis are these?” I asked, pointing at the unadorned homes. The planes tribes fashion their lodges from Buffalo skins the outside of which were painted with symbols of protection.
“Canvas, Tay. The government supplies canvas and lodge poles are gathered from the words. This is how the tipis will be made until the new homes are built.” He tapped his fingertip upon one of the pictures.
“The land looks very dry. How can land such as this feed so many people?” I listen to the reedy sound of my voice. The Cheyanne people in this picture did not look well-fed, nor happy. How could Doctor Joseph think reservation was good?”
“You are right Tay. it is a hard time for the Cheyanne people,” he replied, before taking a seat across from me. “The government supplies are brought in monthly and rationed to each family. It is not the best way, I agree. However, right now we are able to keep families alive. Agents are assigned to each reservation. It is their job to look out for the interest of the tribe. But these agents cannot do their job alone. They need help.”
I have frowned. I felt the doctor's gaze upon me and I glanced at the photographs. The album was separated into sections, the name of each reservation carefully printed in black ink at the first page of each section. Wind River, I read. Kiowa/ Comanche at Fort Sill. San Carlo--Apache. A knot formed in my stomach as I traced my fingertip over the word Apache.
“Do the Nde have a reservation?” I asked, looking at Doctor Joseph.
“Soon, Tay. The government is making arrangements and hopes to open San Carlos reservation within six months. The reservation will need teachers and nurses.”
I nodded my head and looked at the blank pages with the scripted words. San Carlos. Not understanding the excitement, that threaded through Doctor Joseph’s voice.
“Teachers and nurses are needed Tay. The government is looking for Indian teachers.”
Suddenly, I understood what he was saying to me. My hands became clammy and my head pounded. “You wish me to go to this place?” I asked.
For so many years I have dreamed of returning home to my people. To walk free upon the land of my ancestors. Now, when it was possible, I was filled with such foreboding. I thought I might become physically ill.
“How could I do this thing? I am no teacher.” I looked into his light brown eyes and I saw such kindness and inner strength.
“If you do not help your people, Tay, today who will? The government? The army? Who else will be the bridge between the Indian world and the white man's?”
“I do not know. . .”
“You are young, Tay. and frightened. But you are smart and you are bold. You have proved to all here that your counsel is wise. You cannot be swayed by pretty words to do what is wrong. The others know this and they respect you for it.”
“I know nothing of the ways of governments.”
Doctor Joseph smiled. “You know more than many people twice your years, Tay. You know to listen to the words of your heart and act upon them. You judge a person by their deeds and not their words alone. I have watched you over these many months. You possess such wisdom. I see it in your eyes and in your manner of speaking. Others see it in you also. This is why Mary Billy and the others look for your guidance and trust your direction.”
I worried my lower lip between my front teeth. What the doctor was asking of me filled my mind with fear. To leave the school, everything I now called familiar, and to go to a new place. A new world. He was asking me to be a teacher like Sister Kathleen or Sister Louisa.
“I know nothing of Europe or the Mississippi River,” I whispered. “How can I teach?”
The Great Spirit has given the white man much foresightedness; he sees everything at a distance, his mind invents and makes the most extraordinary things.
But the red man has made has been made short sighted. He sees only what is close around him and knows nothing except what his father knew. . .
--Crow Belly
Gros Ventre Chief
Chapter 15
“Tay, come and help me with the new arrivals,” Sister Kathleen called.
Leaving the album upon the table, I glanced at the doctor. “I will give your words much thought, Doctor—”
“Please, call me Simon.”
“Simon.” His name seemed strange and unfamiliar to my lips. Still, a small shiver of excitement captured my heart when I said the doctor's name.
“After turning on my heel, I gave Simon a quick glance over my shoulder.
He smiled and hurried out of the room.
“Yes, Sister Kathleen,” I said in a breathless voice when I joined her on the front porch.
The teacher gave me a searching look. “Are you well, Tay?” she asked her pale hand touching my forehead. “You are not feverish, are yo
u?”
“No. I am well,” I assured her, glancing down at my feet. It would not do for me to let Sister Kathleen know of my uncertainty. I was not ready to give words to my fears. I loved Jacob Five-Wounds, but when Doctor Simon Joseph spoke to me today, my heart fluttered like a small sparrow's wings. What was happening to me? Why did I feel like a whirlwind held me firmly in its grasp?
“I need for you to help me calm the young ones. Can you do this?” Sister Kathleen asked. “I know this may bring back bad memories for you. If—”
“No. I can do this,” I replied, and stiffened my spine. “The young children will be frightened. It is better that I am here to help you.”
“I am proud of you. I told you that, Tay?” she asked, her hand clasping my chin.
I felt a lump rise in my throat and I swallowed hard as I met her gaze. “Yes, many times Sister Kathleen.” I had felt her eyes upon me and known her approval.
She cleared her throat and I watched her bright blue eyes cloud with tears.
With a start, I realized I felt love for this white woman. A love that was as strong and as true as the love I had felt for my grandmother and my aunt's. Sister Kathleen had found a place in my heart.
As we walked to the incoming wagons, I felt a knot in my chest. Was Simon, right? Could I be a teacher and help these children? Or was it Jacob who spoke the truth-- we could not live as Indians if we wished to survive.
My worries were soon forgotten as a cloud of dust and dirt covered us. A second team of horses pulled up beside the first. The sound of crying children filled my ears and the stench of sweat and horse filled my nose. Suddenly, I understood why Sister Enid had insisted all the children were bathed!
It was as if Sister Kathleen read my thoughts.
“Not everything about Sister Enid was evil,” she said. “When she first arrived at the school, she raised the standards of cleanliness and made certain the children were fed. It was only during the past four years she became cruel.”
I did not reply. I could not imagine Sister Enid being different than the hateful woman I had known.
Perhaps Sister Kathleen was right, even Sister Enid could not have been born evil.
“Have everyone line up here,” Mary Billy said, rushing from the bathing area. She held an apron in her hands as she rushed toward us, her boots kicking up dirt as she ran. “Sister Bernadette knocked over a tub of water and there was mud everywhere. No. No. Not over there, Tay. Stay over here. If the children get muddy, Sister Louisa will throw a fit.
I felt a smile curve my lips and tried not to laugh. The image of Sister Louise acting in such an undignified manner brought a bark of laughter from my lips.
Sister Kathleen also was struck by the humor and she began to laugh.
Soon, Sister Kathleen and I were leaning against each other for support. Our stomachs hurting from our continued laughter.
Mary Billy stood next to us stomping her foot. “What type of example are you setting for the children?” she asked.
“A very poor one,” I managed to say.
Mary Billy cracked a smile, then helped the children climb from the wagon.
When I turned my attention back to them, I saw their faces were covered with wide grins. The youngest of the Kiowa girls clutched my hand and stopped crying.
“Do not be afraid,” I told her. “I will take care of you.”
Sister Kathleen smiled as she greeted each girl. Most did not respond, they simply stood, staring at her flaming red hair.
Mary Billy herded her charges to the front of the line and prepared them for their bath.
It was quite different from the day I arrived, I thought looking all about me. The teachers were singing a Sunday school hymn as they bathed the girls.
After they were given new clothes the children would be taken inside and fed. I knew a hearty soup was simmering on the kitchen stove.
It wasn't home. Still, the children would not go hungry or be mistreated. Jacob was right, with time life had become better for us.
Later that evening, as I walked beneath the star-filled skies, I thought of the reservation. Of the hardships such a life would bring. It had been so many moons since my feet had felt the soft leather moccasins, my skin the buttery warmth of elk skin dress. I longed to listen to the music of the gourd dance. The heavy beating of a drum, and the soft sounds of a wooden flute.
I could almost smell the fragrance of acorn soup and deer roasting over a fire. I wanted to go home.
Where was home?
My home, my future, I suddenly discovered was a choice I, alone, had to make.
I could speak to Sister Kathleen, but she could not tell me what to do. Doctor Simon Joseph thought my future was on the reservation. But my heart, my heart told me my life was with Jacob Five-Wounds.
“Jacob,” I whispered.
Suddenly, he was there.
“Tay why do you sit alone in the darkness?” He asked sitting beside me on the soft grass.
“I have many thoughts. I must sort through them. I need to make sense of. . . the future.”
Jacob pulled a blade of grass from the ground and feathered it across my wrist.
“Ah, Tay. I watch you thinking. I see how your dark eyes cloud with worry. I listen to your voice as you calm the cries of sick children. What is it your heart cries for, Tay? Does it cry for freedom? Or for love?”
“I do not know Jacob. Simon speaks of a reservation. Sister Kathleen tells me I will always have a home in the school.”
Jacob rose to his feet and reached for my hand with one graceful movement, he brought me to my feet.
“Do you love him?” Jacob asked.
“Who?” I questioned, though I knew he spoke of Simon the doctor.
“Are you in love with Doctor Joseph? His voice gruff with emotion.
“No,” I replied, and I knew I spoke the truth. “I care for him just as I care for Sister Kathleen. But I do not love Simon.”
Jacob relaxed and moved a step closer to me. “I felt his warm breath feather across my cheek.
“Do you love me as much as I love you?”
“Yes, Jacob. I love you. I think I have loved you since the first time I saw you. From the moment you climbed on the fence and asked for your baseball.”
“I loved you before then, my strong-willed girl. I knew I would have you for my wife when I watched you stand up to Sister Louisa.”
“Your wife?” I asked, bemused by the word as it rolled from my lips.
“Yes. A warrior needs a wife, Tay. If I cannot have you, my life will be empty. I would choose no other woman as my wife.”
I looked into his eyes and knew his words were true.
“The army---”
“What path should we walk, Tay? Do you wish for our children to live among the whites? Or do you wish to go to the reservation Doctor Joseph speaks of?”
In my mind, I pictured Jacob wearing a buckskin shirt, leggings, and moccasins. His thick raven- black hair wore long with a single eagle feather for adornment.
I could see him mounted atop a brown and white horse, racing down from a hilltop, his hair tangled by and angry wind. A broad smile parting his lips as he spied the wiki-up.
He was coming home-- coming home to me.
A nation is not conquered,
Until the hearts of the women are on the ground.
Then it is finished,
No matter how brave its warriors
Or how strong its weapons.
-- Cheyenne proverb
Epilogue
Season of Red Grass, 1892
I felt my daughter, Nizhoni’s, small fingers grip my palm. Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, I said, “Come upstairs and meet my friends. I am certain they will have prepared tea and cookies for us.”
” Cookies?” she asked in a soft lisp.
Looking down her chubby face, her brown eyes filled with excitement and her grin all the more enduring with its missing front tooth. I smiled.
“I told Sister Be
rnadette that sugar cookies are your favorite.”
“You did? Is this place where you and Papa went to school? It is so very big.”
“Yes. It is much larger than your school on the reservation isn't it?”
“Will I go here, too, Momma? When I am older?”
“Yes, dear one, when you are older.”
I heard the attic door open and a woman wearing a black dress stepped into the hallway.
“Anna Thunder,” I cried. I felt joy fill my heart as I hurried to her side. “How have you been? I have missed you so.”
The weariness was no longer present in the Comanche’s eyes. Anna Thunder greeted me with a friendly smile, clasping my hand in hers. “I am well, Tay. I am so happy you came for a visit.”
Anna Thunder gave me a hug and then knelt down in front of my daughter. So, this is Nizhoni. Your mother's letters are always full of the stories about you and your sister. I didn't know you had such a lovely smile. You look like your father, has anyone ever told you that?”
“Yes, Ma'am,” Nizhoni’s head bobbed up and down, her eyes widening as she spied a plate piled high with sugar cookies.
Anna Thunder chuckled. “Go on. Help yourself. Your mother and I have much to talk about.”
I watched my daughter scamper into the attic. She climbed onto the wicker rocking chair, a cookie clutched in each chubby fist.
“Many things have changed over the years,” I said. “Even our friendship.”
Anna Thunder nodded. During those early times, neither of us thought we would become lifelong friends. Or return to the attic without being afraid.”
“The attic certainly isn't the scary place of our childhood, is it Anna? Why, look at it now. It's such a lovely room. You have made many improvements. All of them are good.”