Katy turned toward the kitchen. “Maybe,” she said quietly.
“Good. Life can be right good for you and your sister around here if you just do like I say. Besides that, you’ll have a friend to talk to and play with. I just don’t want either of you goin’ off with her. You make sure she always comes here. I want her brother to know she trusts us. Then he won’t give me no more trouble. Understand?”
Katie and Lucille looked at each other silently, both still suspicious. Katy decided that for now, if making friends with Many Birds would keep Seth from hurting Lucille, then she would do as he asked. Besides, she already liked her, and ever since Lucille had threatened to tell on him about the whiskey, he had been different. Other than the beating he gave Lucille, he had not been quite so demanding, and he had left Lucille alone at night. They could only hope that the soldiers’ raid had put enough of a scare in him that maybe he would be more careful from now on.
Thank God for Miss Gibbons, Lucille thought. It was the schoolteacher who had prompted the raid, and she was glad for it. Seth would have to be careful from now on.
Evelyn adjusted her shawl before writing several spelling words on the blackboard. She was full of hope for the future of the school. Now that Little Fox lived with her and came every day, and his aunt, Many Birds, also attended, a few more Sioux had begun sending their children again. John and Linda Adams, who now lived with their uncle, Dancing Cloud, since their father, Big Belly, died of the cholera, had been allowed to return, as had He-Who-Hunts, William Eagle, whose mother, Red Foot Woman, had also died. Falling Eagle still had not allowed his son, Fast Arrow, to return, but Many Hands’s sons, Tall Buffalo, Prairie Runner, and Flying Horse were all back, as were four new students: ten-year-olds David Bigfeather and Marie Fox, and Howard and Jack Longtooth, twelve and nine. Counting Small Fox and Many Birds, that brought her total students to twelve, nine boys and three girls.
She turned and watched them all copy what she had written on the board, her heart swelling with joy at the sight of so many children coming to learn. Her only problem now was getting more girls to come. Most Sioux parents did not feel that learning was important for girls. Their role was to learn to clean and skin animals, to cook and sew, do beadwork and make moccasins. Schooling was of no use to the females, who usually married young and needed to stay home and care for their babies. The only reason the boys were allowed to come was for the same purpose Black Hawk had learned and wanted his son to learn, so that the white man could not fool them with written words.
The biggest teaching problem was to make them all sit still and listen. They were so restless, hating having to sit inside, away from fresh air and sunshine. Their spirits longed to run free, to chase the wind, learn to hunt and make war. It was not their nature to sit inside all day working only with their minds, and she was not sure all of the boys would make it through several weeks of schooling. She had to pack in the lessons as rapidly as possible, for winter was coming, and she had already been told that here in South Dakota the temperatures could be so cold and the snow so deep that there would be days when no one ventured forth from their homes. School would most likely have to wait until early spring. Already the weather was much colder, and she’d had to make a fire in the heating stove this morning; but it had warmed toward afternoon to more comfortable temperatures.
She watched Little Fox, who in spite of his own restlessness was surprisingly diligent in his schoolwork, so smart… like his father. Every bone in her body ached for Black Hawk. It had been nearly two weeks since her two precious nights with him, two nights of exotic touches and bold lovemaking that had left her breathless, and so hungry for more, longing to express her love for her Indian warrior in the fullest sense. She still could hardly believe what she had done, lying with him on the floor of her cabin, and again in the shed. Not quite five months ago she never would have given thought to such wild abandon with any man, certainly not with Steven.
There could be no Steven now. She had never wanted him the way she wanted Black Hawk, had never felt such passion, such an aching desire so intense that she could hardly sleep. More than ever she wished she could talk to her mother. There was no one to help her with the guilt of what she had done, but that guilt was eased by knowing how deeply she loved Black Hawk, be it right or wrong. She didn’t even want to imagine what her father would think of her actions. She was certain he would not be so much against her marrying Black Hawk, when and if that day ever came; but he would not be pleased that in the eyes of the Sioux, she was already his wife. She liked the feel of it, told herself that in God’s eyes they were just as married as if they had stood before a preacher. What difference did a little piece of paper make? Could the absence of it make a person love another less? Did having it make people love each other more? The love was there, no matter whether a marriage ceremony had taken place, and she was convinced God had meant for her to find Black Hawk, to love him and to accept his love in return.
She was so busy now with school and with recruiting new students in her spare time that there had been no chance to go to Black Hawk’s camp and meet with him there. She would have to wait for him to come back, and she had no way of knowing when that would be. How would they both know when the time was right to tell the whole world about their love? When would the vision be truly fulfilled?
Black Hawk at least understood why having to stay here and teach was so important to her, and she in turn understood why he needed to go back to his own camp. There was much for both of them to think about. In the meantime, if Black Hawk did not come to her soon, she knew she would have to find a way to go to him, not just because of her own need to see him again, but because Little Hawk missed his father. That would at least give her reason to go to him…
Janine was gone now, married and off to Fort Leonard with her new husband. All teaching duties fell on her, and she was anxious for help to arrive. She reviewed the words with the students, asking them one by one to pick a particular word, spell it, and tell her what it meant That finished the lessons for the day, and she sent them all home with instructions to leave behind their slate boards but to take home their reading books. Tomorrow was the Sabbath, so they did not have to come back until the day after. “Be sure to bring the books back with you,” she reminded them, hardly able to get the words out before they had all scrambled to charge out of the little one-room school.
“I want to go and practice shooting the bow my father made for me,” Little Fox told her. Every day he worked with the small bow and arrows Black Hawk had sent him through Many Birds. Reverend Phillips had set up a target made out of bales of hay, and Little Fox was becoming quite adept with his new weapon, still the little Indian at heart. Evelyn watched him run off, realizing she loved him like her own. He was eager to please, obedient, bright, a joy to have around. It could not have been easy for him to be away from his father, but he was doing what he knew his father wanted him to do, and that was good enough for him.
She began studying each slate left on the wooden tables in front of the crates still used for chairs. Each child had written his or her name in the corner of the slates. She smiled at the way Many Birds had of signing: several birds drawn in the right corner. The clatter of a buggy interrupted her thoughts, and she turned curiously toward the entrance door of the little school. Thunder rumbled in the distance as she looked down to brush chalk from the skirt of the plain gray dress she had worn today. Someone had come visiting in a buggy. Had help from Mission Services arrived?
She wrapped her shawl tighter and folded her arms, frowning at the thought of a chilling November rainstorm approaching. She hated rain this time of year, wondered if it would turn to snow overnight. She looked out a window at the front of the school to see a woman dressed in black setting baggage at the front of the building. She was helped by old Dancing Eagle, who often drove outside visitors about the reservation for the agency. At first she did not recognize the woman, for she wore a wide-brimmed black hat, with a veil o
ver her face. She was apparently in mourning. It seemed strange that Mission Services would send someone who had obviously just lost a loved one. And why bring her directly to the school instead of to Reverend Phillips at the church? She walked to the door and opened it, and the woman straightened facing her. “Hello, Evy.”
“Beverly!” Evelyn was astounded at how thin the woman was, at the deep circles under her eyes. Both women just stood there looking at each other for a moment. It did not take Evelyn long to realize what had happened to Beverly Evans. Just as she had feared, Beverly’s handsome circus man had turned her out like excess baggage.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” Beverly said quietly. She turned and thanked Dancing Eagle, telling him he could take the buggy back to the agency. “May I come in?”
Evelyn stepped aside. “Yes. Bring your things. A storm is coming.” She reached down and picked up a carpetbag and hat box, carrying them inside.
Beverly followed, bringing one small and one larger suitcase. “I couldn’t bring myself to go to Reverend Phillips first,” she told Evelyn. “I needed to talk to a woman. I need a friend, Evy.” She set the bags on the floor and closed the door. “Not someone who is going to say ‘I told you so.’ I need a friend more than I need to breathe.” Her voice broke, and Evelyn walked closer, reaching out and taking her hands.
“Come and sit down, Beverly. Tell me what happened.”
“As if… you can’t guess,” the woman replied, taking a handkerchief from a pocket of her dress and blowing her nose.
Evelyn led her to the crude crates, noticing the dress she wore looked expensive. Its black taffeta and the many organdy and taffeta slips under the skirt rustled noisily as Beverly sat down. This was not the way the Beverly Evans who first came here would dress, nor would that woman wear such a fine hat, with her dark hair underneath pulled back at the sides and worn loose in back. “Why here, Beverly? Why didn’t you just go back to Illinois, back home?”
The woman shook her head. “I have no home. My family there is just as stern and unforgiving as Greggory was. I really didn’t know what to do.” She wiped at her eyes. “Herbert kept me with him as far as Denver. I had every reason to believe he intended to marry me when we got there.” She sniffed and turned away. “What a fool I’ve been! He took me on a shopping spree, bought me beautiful dresses, wined and dined me, got me… into his bed.” She swallowed, staring at her lap. “I had shared that much with him several times by then. He had a way of… touching me… saying just the things I needed to hear; and he was so utterly handsome.” She sniffed back tears again, shaking her head in wonder. “One morning he handed me a wad of money, told me to use it to go wherever I wanted to go and make a good life for myself, said he wasn’t the marrying type and that the circus was no place for a gentle woman like me. He announced that when the circus left town, he was not taking me along. Just like that… no emotion, no regrets. He paid me off like a… like a harlot! God knows I behaved like one!”
She broke into sobs, and Evelyn put an arm around her shoulders. The story frightened her. What if Black Hawk just wanted to prove an Indian could have his way with a white woman? No, not Black Hawk. He was too honest, too straightforward… but then, he hated most whites, enjoyed getting the better of them and making them out to be fools.
She shook away the thought, telling herself she could not compare Black Hawk to a man like Herbert True. Black Hawk was incapable of such treachery. Only a white man could talk out of both sides of his mouth like that. “Beverly, this is not your fault. It all came from being forced to hold in your passion and joy all your life. You found someone who could free those things inside you that needed to be let go. I worried this would happen. Men like Herbert True care only for themselves. You’re much too good for him.”
The woman’s whole body jerked in a deep sob. “I didn’t know where to go. I bought this black dress… to mourn the innocence I lost. I didn’t want to wear a pretty color or look pretty. I didn’t care about anything… if I lived or died. I loved him so, Evy!” She cried harder for several minutes. All Evelyn knew to do was keep an arm around her. It seemed strange, Beverly being older than she, that she should be the one to do the comforting, to try to give soothing advice. She needed so badly to talk to someone about her own predicament. Who was she to judge or give advice to this woman, when she had herself shared her passion with a Sioux Indian man? Was she also in love with the wrong man? What would Beverly—indeed, what would everyone in Mission Services do or say if they knew?
“I hated it here,” Beverly sobbed. “I didn’t want to come back, but where else could I go? I came here with a train of wagons bringing supplies to Fort Yates. They left me off at the agency, and Dancing Eagle brought me here. I thought perhaps… Oh, little did I know I would truly need this dress for mourning a dead husband! When I reached the agency, they told me about Greggory dying from cholera. I should have been here with him, Evy! Now he’s dead, and Mission Services will surely ostracize me as a terrible sinner, running off on my husband like that. I am not sure how much everyone knows about what happened. My guilt over all of this is enough that I would end my life if not for the fact that I… I think I am with child.”
Evelyn’s eyes widened in surprise. “Beverly! Are you sure?”
She looked at Evelyn with a tear-stained face. “Pretty sure. I only came back here thinking perhaps Greggory would take me back so I could have a father for the child and could say it was his. I don’t want my baby to be called a bastard, Evy. I want this baby, no matter how much I hate the father now. All these years of marriage to Greggory, I thought I was the one who couldn’t have children. Now I know something was wrong with Greggory, not me. I want this child. Someone to love… to love me back. I want to raise it to be joyful and free, but I can’t raise it alone. What am I to do, Evy?”
Evelyn rose and paced, thinking. “I really don’t think Mission Services knows, Beverly. Your husband never told them. In fact, he did not talk about you at all when he was here helping with the cholera victims. I know Reverend Phillips has said nothing. You could stay on here, let everyone back East think the baby is Greggory’s. We need the help, Beverly. Anita Wolf died from cholera, and Janine is gone now. She married Lieutenant Teller, and he was transferred to Fort Leonard. The agency has asked for Mission Services to send out new people for the Oahe Mission, and I know for a fact that Reverend Phillips asked Agent McLaughlin to simply state that your husband had died and you had come here rather than be alone at Oahe.”
“He did that? Why?”
Evelyn faced her. “I asked him to. I… had a feeling you might be back. I saw no reason to tell Mission Services the truth and risk having your good name blackened back home. I thought, if you came back, there would be no loss. If you didn’t, eventually they would have to be told.”
“Evy! I don’t know what to say… how to thank you…” More tears came then, and Evelyn walked over to kneel in front of her.
“Beverly, stay here, help me with the school. You can stay in Janine’s cabin. We’ll go talk to Reverend Phillips together. I’m sure you don’t want to face him alone. I think he’ll be understanding about it. We’ll all be here for you when the baby comes. The child will grow up thinking Greggory Evans was his father, a respectable man who gave his life in mission services, someone he can be proud of. Did you ever tell Herbert True you were carrying his child?”
Beverly shook her head. “I was going to… the same morning he handed me the money and bid his farewell.” She swallowed and breathed deeply to control more tears that wanted to come. “I saw no sense in telling him then.”
“Good. Then he will never know and never try to come for the child.” Evelyn grasped her hands and squeezed them. “I’m so sorry, Beverly. You must not blame yourself or feel that you’re bad. Blame the parents who raised you to so stifle your emotions that the moment you had a chance to release them, you got carried away. Blame Greggory, for being so cold and unfeeling.” Sh
e bowed her head. “Blame me, for not stopping you when I knew I should try.” She met Beverly’s gaze again. “You were so happy, I didn’t have the heart, and I don’t think you would have listened to me anyway, just like I don’t always listen to the advice of others.” She wanted to tell her about Black Hawk, but now was not the time. Maybe at least Beverly would understand. “Let’s go and talk to Reverend Phillips.”
Beverly shook her head. “I’m too ashamed.”
“Don’t be, Beverly. You were crying out for help, and there was no one to hear you, not even your own husband. Herbert True took advantage of that. I’ll help you explain to the reverend.”
Beverly finally nodded, and thunder boomed louder. A light drizzle began to fall, the chill in the air giving hint to the winter that was just around the corner.
“The rain is so fitting for the way I feel,” Beverly told Evelyn sadly.
Their eyes held, and then the two of them embraced. Evelyn did not know how to tell her that she felt the same way, afraid for the future. In spite of the circumstances, she was glad Beverly was back. It would be comforting to have a woman around, someone in whom she could confide once Beverly felt stronger.
“I’ll never raise my baby the way I was raised,” Beverly told her as she pulled away.
Evelyn thought about her own mother, how she had strived to allow her daughter to be free with her emotions. She had had a happy life, but that freedom of emotions had led her to give herself and all her passion to a man she might never be able to keep.
The thunder rolled louder, the sky growing very dark. “Let’s get over to the church before it pours,” she told Beverly. “Everything will be all right, Beverly.” She put an arm around her and led her to the door.
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