Full Circle

by Rosanne Bittner

  It was those things Wild Horse had awakened in Margaret Gibbons, his own free spirit helping hers to soar into new joy. He had taught her about the Indian spirit, Indian beliefs, a beautiful way of looking at life and nature. The woman had almost lost her heart to him, until the tragedy of his death helped her open up to her husband and brought a new closeness to their relationship. Edward Gibbons had been a changed man ever since, and after another sixteen years together, losing his wife had been very hard on him. She was only forty when she died.

  “I’m sorry to leave you now, when you’re still missing Mother so,” Evelyn told him.

  He breathed deeply in an obvious effort to force back his emotions. “I always said you were just like your mother, free-spirited, determined to do what you will do, no matter what anyone else thinks about it. If you feel this calling, Evy, I suppose you should act on it. I just hope you realize what you’re getting yourself into. The Sioux have not been settled in for very long. Don’t forget the massacre that took place not even two years ago at Wounded Knee. Some of them are still quite hostile, I’m told. Getting through to them is going to be a very difficult task. Your biggest problem will probably be getting them to send their children to school.”

  She nodded. “I know, but teaching is not the only reason I am going.”

  Edward studied his daughter’s lovely blue eyes, her mother’s eyes. She was almost a replica of the woman, and seeing her only made him miss Margaret more. “You know what I think about those dreams, Evy.” His theory was similar to the one Steven had espoused. “Your mother has only been gone for six months. I think it just has something to do with you missing her. You were so close. I know how hard it was on you losing her. I think the dreams are just memories… of when you were a little girl, and you and your mother used to go to that pond and talk with Wild Horse.”

  Evelyn saw the hurt in his eyes, knew he could not help but feel resentment and jealousy whenever he thought about Wild Horse. She closed her eyes and sighed. “I think it’s more than that, Father. It’s like… like someone, maybe Mother, is trying to tell me something.” She faced him again. “At any rate, I feel I won’t know the answer if I don’t go to Standing Rock. There has to be a connection between the dreams, and Janine Phillips coming here to tell us how badly more missionaries and teachers are needed out there. In the dream an Indian man reaches out to me, as though to ask for help. I wouldn’t think so much of it if I hadn’t had the same dream so often.”

  Edward studied her lovingly, hating to see his beautiful daughter leave the comforts of a settled life and a good teaching job right here in Waupun for the rugged, perhaps dangerous life she would face in the Dakotas. Besides that, she had broken her engagement with a fine young man who would have made a good husband. But then, just like her mother, she would not choose a husband for the reasons most women did, just because the man was stable and settled. Like Margaret, Evelyn Gibbons needed something more, a man with a vision, a man of great passion, who saw far beyond a simple home life and babies. Evelyn was a woman with great spirit, a quest for drama in her life, a passionate woman who was also compassionate, very determined, brave, and with enough temper to make sure she got what she wanted. He hoped that temper and determination would not get her into trouble eventually.

  He stepped closer, putting his hands on Evelyn’s shoulders. “You do what you have to do, Evy, and don’t worry about me. The congregation has bent over backward helping me, keeping me company. The women have brought me food, offered to help with the house. I’ll be just fine. You’re the one to worry about.”

  Evelyn reached out and embraced him. “I’m not afraid Father. I know I’m doing the right thing. I feel like Mother is with me. Does that sound silly?”

  He stroked her long blond hair. “No. Knowing your mother, she would find a way to come back and keep us hopping. Heaven knows she had enough spirit that it couldn’t all have died with her.”

  Evelyn smiled and kissed his cheek. “I’ll write as often as I can. And if I think I have found the answer to the dream, I’ll tell you what it is. I’ll let you know everything that is happening. For all I know, I’ll be back in a year.”

  Edward’s smile was sad. “I have the very distinct feeling you’ll never come back, except to visit. I hope I am wrong, because you are the light of my life, Evy. I will miss you terribly, but I wouldn’t dream of forcing you to quell your passion and your desire to help others or to do what you feel God is calling you to do. I tried doing that with your mother, and I almost lost her.” He squeezed her hands. “God be with you, Evy, just as I will be, in spirit.”

  “And I will be with you in the same way. Maybe you will end up coming out there to help.”

  He shook his head. “I’m getting too old to get involved in that kind of life again. I intend to stay right here and preach as long as they want me.”

  “They’ll want you as long as you’re willing to stay. The congregation loves you.”

  He laughed lightly. “Well, the point is, you can concentrate on whatever it is you have to do in South Dakota without worrying about me.”

  She kept hold of his hands. “I’m glad.” Their eyes held for a moment in love, and in the pain of parting. “I’ll wake you up early tomorrow and we can have a nice breakfast together before I leave.”

  He kissed her forehead. “I would like that.” His eyes teared. “God bless you, Evy, and keep you safe.”

  “He will, Father, because He wants me to do this. I know it in my heart. I will find the cause of these dreams and maybe I can finally get rid of them. I’m tired of waking up in a cold sweat, with the terrible feeling that someone needs my help.” She turned away, walking to the clock again. “Maybe I’ll find the man on the spotted horse at Standing Rock, and then I’ll know what to do.”

  “Maybe. Just be careful, Evy. The heart and the mind can sometimes play tricks on us, you know; sometimes they can lead us down the wrong pathway.”

  Evelyn could see the man on the horse so clearly, except for his face. Was it the spirit of Wild Horse who visited her in the night? She was tired of wondering and guessing. The visit from Janine Phillips could not be a better sign of what she must do. “I only know I have to go there, Father, and I’m not afraid. She faced him again. “I’m not afraid.”

  Two

  “You made quite a sacrifice, Miss Gibbons, breaking an engagement and all.” The Reverend Greggory Evans and his wife, Beverly, sat in seats that faced Evelyn and Janine Phillips. The Union Pacific coach in which the four of them traveled rattled across the Iowa prairie, much of which was now broken up by plows and planted into crops. It was unbearably hot, and Janine had opened the train window, which helped little. Not only was the air that came through miserably humid, but also filled with smoke and soot from the rumbling black engine ahead of them. Evelyn felt sticky and dirty, but there was nothing to be done about it until they reached a place where there was time to get off and find a bath house.

  “I just felt I was meant to do this,” she answered Evans, her miserable condition making her wonder now if maybe she had made the wrong decision. The fact that there would be few comforts where she was going was becoming more real, but she was not going to give up on what she felt was her calling until she knew the meaning of her dreams. She had not told these people any of this. They would probably think she was insane. “I don’t really think I was ready to get married anyway.”

  “Well, that’s good,” Janine spoke up with a smile, “because there is a definite shortage of white men where we’re going, except for a few soldiers, most of whom are already married or terribly un-Christian and not worth considering.” She blushed a little. “There is one soldier, Lieutenant Teller, who does seem to be a decent Christian man.” She leaned closer to Evelyn. “He comes to church whenever he can, and he’s been making sure he manages to sit next to me.”

  She giggled like a schoolgirl, and Evelyn smiled, wondering if by leaving civilization and Steven she
would end up an old maid with no prospects of marriage. Janine was herself already twenty-six years old and just now finding a man who might be interested, but then, marriage had not been something she was interested in till now, Evelyn knew. Her work with her brother, John, had been her most important concern. She was a devoted Christian, and John was the preacher at the small Methodist church on the reservation. He had sent Janine to Wisconsin to give talks at various churches and urge people to give to Mission Services and send donations of clothes and money to the reservation. Janine was a persuasive speaker, and Evelyn surmised her brother must also be very good at what he did. He would be very pleased to find out Janine was bringing two missionaries and a schoolteacher back with her. Now that he would have help, she could give more serious thought to finding a husband.

  Janine took a handkerchief from her handbag and pressed it to her forehead. “Oh, it’s so hot, and it’s only late June. We have the whole summer ahead of us, and the heat in the Dakotas can get quite unbearable at times.”

  Evelyn noticed the woman always wore dresses with long sleeves and high necklines, in spite of the hot weather. Her plain, round face was unpainted, her light-brown hair pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Looking at her made Evelyn think about her mother, who all her life had valiantly gone against the rules of what was expected of a preacher’s wife, including refusing to dress primly when it was hot. She remembered Margaret letting her swim naked in the cool water of their secret pond back in Oklahoma. Back then such a thing was considered sinful, even for a four-year-old, but her mother had insisted it was not. Sometimes she went into the water with Evelyn, but as far as she could remember, she had never undressed, although Evelyn was sure now she had wished that she could. It had been daring enough of her to take off shoes and stockings and unbutton the bodice of her dress and lift her skirts to go into the pond and splash water on herself.

  She would never forget those days of secret pleasure at the pond, or the day Wild Horse was shot down by soldiers when all he was doing was helping her. She had not told these people about her experiences as a little girl in Indian Territory. It seemed too personal, and it still hurt to remember Wild Horse falling, his body riddled with bullet holes. Maybe that was the reason for the dreams. Maybe it was just her own guilty conscience over the fact that if she had not become lost, if Wild Horse had not been so kind as to come looking for her, he would not have run into those soldiers who thought he was stealing her away. Maybe he was coming after her in the dream because it was her fault he had died… or maybe her mother was with Wild Horse now, in some beautiful place where they could ride free together. Maybe Wild Horse was just trying to tell her everything was all right.

  “Miss Gibbons?” Reverend Evans, a short, stocky man who was already balding in spite of being only thirty-four, was leaning forward as though to get her attention. He waved a hand in front of her face. “Did you hear me?”

  “What?” Evelyn realized she had been so lost in thought that she had not been aware the man had asked her a question. She met his gray eyes in embarrassment. “Oh, I’m sorry! I was just thinking.”

  The man smiled, revealing one missing tooth at the left side of his mouth. “We can see that!” He put two fingers between his neck and the stiff collar of his shirt, stretching his chin to adjust what was apparently an uncomfortably tight shirt neck. Like Janine, he seemed to think a person had to dress a certain way no matter what the weather—shirt and bow tie, vest and suit jacket in his case. His wife was as stiffly dressed as Janine. Both women were very plain and rather colorless, although twenty-eight-year-old Beverly Evans had a natural beauty about her. She and her husband had no children, and Evelyn had not pried. Perhaps the woman had a physical problem… or perhaps her marriage had no passion.

  That was another thing her mother had taught her, that a marriage should be for more than convenience or having children. She had sometimes felt flutterings of desire for Steven, but she knew deep inside it had not been enough. She could hardly imagine allowing a man to do to her what was required between a man and a wife, had wrestled with the thought of letting Steven do those things to her. She supposed that if she did not feel comfortable with even the thought of letting him touch her that way, then she had been right to break off the engagement.

  Someday a man will come along who will sweep you off your feet, Evy. You won’t give a second thought to wanting to belong to him. Wait for the right man, one who will set your spirit free and awaken a passion in you that is so beautiful…

  “I was asking about your education,” Evans was saying.

  Evelyn forced herself to stop daydreaming and pay attention. She wondered if any of her fellow travelers thought less of her for wearing a light cotton dress and only one slip. The dress was yellow, and it had short sleeves and a scoop neckline. A straw hat was perched on her head. She did not wear her hair in a bun. She had simply pulled it back at the sides with combs, and the long tresses hung down her back in a cascade of waves. Right now she wished she had put it into a bun, just to get it off her neck. She supposed the others thought the way she was dressed was probably fine, since she was not a missionary or a preacher’s wife.

  “You got your degree from Ripon?” Evans continued.

  “Yes. Ripon is a coeducational, liberal arts college. I attended year-round with a full load of courses so that I could finish sooner. I have degrees in literature and history and social science.”

  “I wish you had also studied music,” Janine spoke up. “There is a piano in my brother’s church, but no one knows how to play it.” The woman opened a pink paper fan and waved it in front of her face to help cool herself off. Evelyn thought how, if she were alone and near water, she would strip and dive right in. It would feel so wonderful right now.

  “My wife plays a little piano, but then we’ll be at the Oahe Mission, too far away to help,” Evans told Janine.

  “I wish I could play for you,” Beverly told them.

  “Well, it’s a shame,” Janine answered. “We have a piano and no one to play it, and you play, but there is no piano at Oahe.”

  “Yes. I shall miss being able to play once in awhile. Playing hymns soothes me,” Beverly answered.

  Evelyn saw a strange longing in the woman’s blue eyes, and suspected she was not totally happy. Beverly could be truly beautiful, if she were allowed to let her dark hair down, put a little color on her eyes and cheeks, wear prettier clothes. The few words she had just uttered were almost the only ones the quiet, shy woman had spoken since they boarded the train, and it struck Evelyn that Beverly Evans never smiled. Right now the woman was studying her intently.

  “A pretty young woman like you, educated and all, it seems you would want to stay in more civilized places, Miss Gibbons,” she said then, a kind of longing in the words.

  “I suppose I could take the easy way,” Evelyn answered. “But my parents never did, and I guess I take after them. They worked among Indians when I was small, and I never forgot some of those experiences.” How could she explain about the dream, or about what had happened to Wild Horse? “God speaks to us in many ways,” she added. “When Janine came to our church to talk about the situation at Standing Rock and how badly teachers were needed, I just knew I had to go. The fact remains that all of us can leave whenever we want, but the Indians can never leave. They have been forced into that life and told they must stay on that land. I feel sorry for them. The way they live now goes entirely against what is in their hearts, against their basic beliefs and needs. I think I understand them sufficiently so that I can be of assistance to them. Maybe by teaching, I can find a way to help them adjust to this new life.” She took a handkerchief from her handbag and dabbed at the perspiration beading her face. “I have studied the Sioux and Cheyenne tongue. I learned some Cheyenne while living among them in Oklahoma. There aren’t many books on Indian languages, but I managed to find a source on Sioux through a university in New York City. Once I get to the reservation
, I intend to learn more.”

  “Oh, that isn’t necessary, Miss Gibbons,” Evans replied. “The government has mandated that we teach only English, you know. They don’t want the Sioux using their own language. The objective is to erase all the old ways and get on with the new.”

  Evelyn felt her temper begin to rise. “I am afraid I disagree with that, Reverend. The way to reach the Indian is to first understand everything about them, their beliefs, religion, way of life. For years my parents practiced that very thing. We must respect their ways, honor their beliefs, learn their language so that we can communicate more easily. When we do those things, they begin to trust us more, and through that trust, they will listen to what we have to tell them. We cannot order them to begin living like white men overnight. It just doesn’t work.” She could see the irritation in Evans’s eyes.

  “Well, we certainly differ there, Miss Gibbons.” He looked her over, for the first time showing disapproval of her appearance. “You have a lot to learn, but you’ll manage. I would suggest, however, that you keep that pretty blond hair twisted up on your head and covered with a bonnet, and that you wear clothes that cover your arms and neck. I don’t mean any disrespect, but there is no telling how the Indian men will react to seeing such a pretty, unmarried white woman with light hair.”

  Evelyn felt her cheeks flushing with even more anger. She suspected the deliberately embarrassing remark was made only because she had challenged the man. “I spent most of my growing-up years among the Cheyenne, Reverend. The men were most respectful of me and my mother. She was a lovely woman, with light hair like mine. The Cheyenne men and women both respected her because she genuinely cared about them. She learned their ways and then taught them that their own beliefs were very similar to our own Christianity.” She took a deep breath for self-control. “At any rate, I have no fear of the Sioux men. They are no different from white men, and in some cases I would feel safer among Indians than among whites.”