Heart of the Sandhills

by Stephanie Grace Whitson

  Seven

  Hatred stirreth up strifes …

  —Proverbs 10:12

  Leighton Hall

  May 5, 1867

  Dearest Genevieve and Daniel,

  There is no easy way to say this: measles is making the rounds in New York and has stopped at Leighton Hall. Meg has been very ill. She has recovered but has a long convalescence ahead of her. God spared everyone else. But we cannot come to Minnesota, dear ones.

  Elliot sends his love and has departed once again for Washington where he feels he can do more good than in coming to you. He is determined to be a member of the new commission visiting Niobrara this summer and, if God wills, may come in the fall to gather up Aaron for the return to New York. That is the good news in this letter. Aaron is coming to Minnesota. We have just returned from sending him off at the railway station. And now a word from Meg.

  Looking at the child-like scrawl that slanted awkwardly across the page, Genevieve frowned. She read:

  Dear Mama-Gen and Daniel,

  I am so sorry not to be coming with Aaron, but he promises that if I work hard this summer and through the year to adjust, that he will certainly bring me to see you next year. I have asked Aunt Jane to let me tell you myself. My eyesight was affected by the measles. But I can still see light and dark and I am learning to get around the house very well. Grandmother is getting a tutor who works with the blind and he will be teaching me to do all kinds of things, even making my own tea. It is very hard, but when I remember all that you have suffered and how brave you have been, it helps me to be brave, too. I have seen roses and the sunset, and I know how eyes change when a person looks at you in love. I think that is quite a lot to have seen, don’t you? I love you both very much. Meg

  At the bottom of the letter, in inch-high letters, Gen read,

  Hello Ma. I am five. I can write my name see? HOPE.

  Daniel and Glen had come to their favorite place on the farm to read the letter, a rock ledge that jutted out from the ground behind Jeb Grant’s barn where a spring bubbled out of the earth. More than once they had removed their shoes and dangled their feet in the cool water while they talked at the end of a hot summer day. But this spring evening their attentions were drawn more to the graves beneath the cottonwood tree that shaded the rock than to the music of the bubbling spring. Death had nearly taken Meg. And although defeated, death had left its mark and Meg was blind. And so, Daniel Two Stars gathered his wife into his arms while she wept.

  “Why?” Gen sobbed. “Why would God do that to Meg? I don’t understand.”

  Daniel sighed. “More and more I don’t understand the God we serve, Blue Eyes,” he paused, “but I trust Him.”

  “It hurts,” Gen sobbed.

  “I love you, little wife,” Daniel said, “I don’t know what else to say. I am here. God is here. We both love you.”

  “It doesn’t seem fair. For Meg to have to—suffer.”

  “It is not fair,” Daniel said gently. “But it is, and God will work it for good. He loves Meg more than we do.”

  “How did you get to know so much?” Gen muttered grudgingly.

  “I tried doubting His love. It didn’t work very well,” Daniel said, hugging her fiercely. “He just kept on pulling me back.”

  Gen sighed and kissed his cheek. “I’m glad He did,” she said. “I needed to hear those things. And I need you.”

  Daniel returned her kiss. “See that you remember my wise words for the times when you must remind me of the things I know:”

  “Do you think it’s all right for Aaron to come? I mean—with all the trouble here.”

  Daniel thought for a moment. “Jeb says things are better with the Quinns and the Baxters. If Aaron is anything like Elliot or Simon, he will be all right even if there is some trouble. He’s nearly a man now anyway.”

  “Pray for Meg,” Gen said.

  Daniel leaned back against the tree. Gen moved so that she was facing him, seated inside the circle of his legs. And they prayed.

  Abner Marsh crouched down behind his plow and, taking a handful of the freshly turned black earth, inhaled deeply. Nothin’ smells better than fresh plowed dirt. And this was his dirt. His farm. He stood back up, admiring the color and texture of the soil before dropping it and wiping his palm on his soiled overalls. Taking off his hat, he wiped his brow with his forearm before standing a moment and looking across the field toward the house. His house. His wife. His girls.

  Girls. Abner sighed. He loved his girls but wished to the gods almighty that Sally could give him at least one boy. She’d have done it, too, if it hadn’t been for the murdering Sioux. Sally had lost their baby boy right after they hightailed it off their old place up by Acton. She hadn’t wanted to go. Said she was feeling poorly and afraid what a long wagon ride would do. But Abner had insisted and, as it turned out, their place was burned to the ground the night after they left—at least that was what the neighbors told them a few weeks later. And nothing had been the same since. Sally lost the baby, and in the ensuing months she became thin and pale and hard. She didn’t complain and Abner never saw her cry, but she was nothing like the woman he had married. He’d come to accept that neither of them was anything like the doe-eyed couple in their wedding picture. Probably never would be again. As for Sally, all the quilting bees and understanding women in the world couldn’t change what had happened to her inside. Her religion, weak as it was, hadn’t been much comfort either.

  Plopping his crumpled hat back on his head, Abner shrugged the sadness off his shoulders by lifting the reins he’d draped over the plow handles and hollering to his mules to “gid-ap.” Walking the long, straight furrow revitalized him. When he turned the corner and headed back toward the house, he got a glimpse of the two men he’d hired to give Sally her railing and the other useless stuff she wanted on the house. He’d fought her on it, but not much. Sally hadn’t showed much interest in anything new in years. If it gave her pleasure to think on fancying up the house, Abner didn’t mind. He could afford it. Maybe granting Sally’s wish would give him a glimpse of the girl in the wedding picture. He wouldn’t mind seeing her again. He’d tell her all this was for her, that he was born to farm and he loved the land, but it wouldn’t mean much without someone to share it with. He’d tell her he was glad she stuck by him all these years. If the old Sally reappeared, that’s just what he would –

  The mules turned up a larger-than-usual rock. Something about its color or shape made Abner holler “Whoa!” Loosely tying the reins over one plow handle, Abner reached around and picked it up. It was a human skull. Catching his breath, he stared at it for a long time before noticing other, smaller bones scattered along the freshly turned split in the earth. Walking to the end of the furrow, he emptied his water bucket and returned to the plow, collecting bones and thinking: Red Cloud. Little Crow. Wabasha. Fetterman. Shakopee. Uprising. Massacre.

  When he had finished collecting all the bones he could find, Abner set the skull atop the pile in the bucket. He walked back to the edge of his field and set the bucket under a tree. Crouching down, he stared at it, shuddering when he realized that he might have just dug up all that was left of some little girl like his Polly or Pris. He was clutching the last thing he found—a tomahawk. Looking toward the farm, he saw the two Indians working on Sally’s porch railing. His grip on the tomahawk tightened until his knuckles were white.

  “That’s terrible, Abner,” Thomas Quinn said. He shuddered as he looked down at the bucket sitting at his feet. “I’ll help you bury them.”

  “I didn’t bring ‘em here to get your help buryin”em,” Marsh snarled. “I brung ‘em to bring you to your senses. Both of you.” He looked from Quinn to Baxter and back again.

  Quinn scratched his beard. “I don’t want to make any more trouble for Jeb Grant, Abner. I already told you that.”

  “So did I,” Baxter interjected. “What’s done is done.” He looked down at the bones. “Poor little thing.”

  “I’m not tryi
ng to make trouble for Jeb Grant,” Marsh insisted. “I’m trying to save his thick, Injun-lovin’ hide. Can’t you fellers see that?” Marsh reached into his back pocket and withdrew his final piece of evidence. He thrust the tomahawk at Quinn. “Found that with the bones. Guess that says it all.”

  Quinn pushed the tomahawk away. “Look, Abner, I read the same newspaper you do. I read all about Fetterman. I been readin’ all the news about Red Cloud and all. But, Abner, those things are happenin’ a thousand miles away. They got nothin’ to do with me. Nancy Lawrence has been real nice to Violet and my Lydia.”

  “Harriet don’t say nothing bad about them women. Says they’re real hard workers,” Earl offered, adding as a last thought, “and one of ‘em’s about to have a baby.”

  “Nits make lice,” Marsh said, “birthin’ another warrior right under our noses.” He swore. “And you’re both too stupid to stop it.”

  Quinn scratched his beard. Smoothing it, his finger landed on the open spot next to his bottom lip—the spot Lydia liked to kiss. He cleared his throat. “Look Abner. I’m sorry if it makes you mad to hear this, but the truth is, even if Daniel Two Stars and Richard Lawrence did do something bad during the outbreak, I got to think they’ve paid ten times over. Two Stars was nearly hung and the both of them spent months in prison. We got to move on, Abner. It isn’t healthy, brooding on something that happened years ago. It just isn’t healthy and it doesn’t do anybody any good.”

  Baxter, a man of few words, climbed aboard his wagon. “I agree with Tom,” he said quickly. He nodded down at the bucket.

  “You want me to take them into town and see to the buryin’? I got to pick up Harriet’s new sewing machine at Ludlow’s.”

  Marsh bent down and snatched up the bucket. “I’ll see to it,” he grunted, and headed inside his barn.

  Quinn mounted his mule and trotted after Baxter. “That man’s gone a little off in his head. We better keep an eye on him.”

  Baxter shrugged. “Oh, Abner’s all right. He’s just bullheaded. He won’t do anybody any real harm.”

  Quinn clucked to his mule and headed off toward home, lifting his hand and waving to Baxter as he disappeared over a rise in the distance.

  Having faced his demons, both literal and imaginary, having won against challenges to his new Christian faith, having followed the example of his biblical name-bearer Daniel and lived among the lions without being devoured, Daniel Two Stars was finally to be beaten by a threadbare shirt. He was seated on an upended tree stump sanding one of the rungs for Mrs. Abner Marsh’s new porch railing when a horsefly began to torment him. Slapping at the horsefly, Daniel dropped the porch rail. Bending over to retrieve the porch rail, he felt the shoulder seam of his worn red shirt give way. He trotted behind the barn to inspect the damage. When he took off the shirt, he let out a sigh of frustration. It was beyond repair. He pulled it back on and returned to work.

  “Two Stars!” Abner bellowed when he and Robert drove in later that day. “Lend a hand here.”

  Daniel followed the wagon behind the barn. While he and Robert unloaded the lumber, Abner clomped up to the house and disappeared inside. By the time he came back, Daniel and Robert had nearly finished unloading the wood.

  “Had the missus get this for you,” Abner grunted, tossing a shirt at Daniel. “Won’t do to have my girls watchin’ a half-dressed Indian work on the place.” At Daniel’s look of surprise, Abner shrugged. “Fool girls seem to think you two men are a subject to be studied.”

  Daniel was shirtless for only a brief second, but it was long enough for Abner to notice the scars. He grabbed Daniel’s left hand and inspected the old wounds across Daniel’s left shoulder and down his forearm. “Didn’t think the scouts did much fightin’,” he said, peering into Daniel’s eyes. “Thought you boys said you were on the peace-keepin’ side of things back in ‘62. Jeb Grant vouched for you.” He pointed at Daniel’s shoulder. “But that’s a bullet hole if I ever saw one.”

  Daniel pulled his hand away. While he buttoned Abner’s gigantic shirt he said quietly, “I owe my earthly life to a white woman who took care of a foolish boy who got hurt. I owe my eternal life to white missionaries who told that same fool about God.” He stared up at Marsh. “I am no longer a fool, Mr. Marsh. I only want a peaceful life.”

  “Abner! Abner!”

  Marsh spat tobacco juice and looked away. “You want a peaceful life, boys, don’t marry a woman with a voice like a coyote howlin’ at the moon.” He sent another stream of brown liquid at the barn wall and stomped away. “You boys go on home. There’s not enough daylight left to accomplish much.” He paused and looked back at Daniel. “That shirt makes you look like a scare-crow flappin’ in the wind. If your missus can make it fit, you can have it. Otherwise bring ‘er back tomorrow.” With a nod at Robert, Abner headed for the house.

  “I can’t come back here,” Daniel said. “He’s going to recognize me sooner or later.”

  “I’ll tell him Jeb Grant needed you to plow a new field,” Robert said, slapping the reins against his team’s rumps and heading them up the road toward home. “That’s the truth. Jeb is trying to help us by letting us work for Marsh, but he’s measuring new fields in his head all the time we’re here. I heard him tell Mrs. Grant he about has Quinn talked into selling him some more land.” He paused. “Don’t worry about it. It’s been five years since you were a horse thief.” He forced himself to laugh. “Come to think of it, you never actually were a horse thief. Didn’t you tell me Marsh got all three animals back?”

  Daniel nodded. “But if he decides I was the one who tried to take them, I don’t think that will matter very much.” He gripped the side of the wagon seat. “Tell me again what you know about the new reservation in Nebraska.”

  Sally Marsh was dreaming of inviting Marjorie Grant to tea in a brick house with a carved mahogany staircase when her husband Abner sat straight up in bed and began to curse. The string of epithets flying around the darkened bedroom was like nothing Sally had ever heard before. So vile were the things Abner was saying that Sally was momentarily silenced—until Abner jumped out of bed and his oaths were slowed as he clutched his foot in a vain attempt to make his stubbed toe stop hurting.

  “Abner Marsh!” Sally hissed. “What on earth is the matter with you?”

  “I can’t believe it,” Abner muttered. “I can’t believe I was so stupid.” He pulled on his pants. “When I get finished with them—”

  “With who, Abner? When you get finished with who?”

  “Robert Lawrence. Daniel Two Stars. Jeb Grant. He was probably in on it, too. Probably laughing his beard off thinking how he put one over on Abner Marsh.”

  Sally slipped out of bed and pulled on her duster. “What’s this about Robert and Daniel? What have they done? Their work is beautiful. The porch is coming along fine. I certainly don’t have any complaints. Why, Eulalie Gibbons was up today while you were in town, and she is just green with envy to see how the place is coming along.”

  Abner appeared not to have heard his wife. “I knew I’d seen ‘im somewhere before,” he muttered. “I knew it.” He pulled on his shirt. “Those scars.” He snorted angrily. “And all he could say was how much he loves white people.” Abner swore again. “I’ll show him love!”

  Sally shook her husband by the shoulder. “If you don’t tell me what you’re talking about, Abner Marsh, I’m going to assume you’re having a nightmare and wake you up with one of my iron skillets!”

  Marsh stood up and pulled his suspenders over his broad shoulders. Finally, he answered his wife. “Daniel Two Stars is one of the young bucks that stole our horses up at Acton. Maybe Robert Lawrence, too, although I don’t think so.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Abner,” Sally retorted. “That was years ago. Whoever did that is either dead or out West with the other hostiles.” She shook her head. “Let it go, Abner. All these years you’ve never let it go. It eats at you all the time.”

  Abner stood up. “When I th
ink what might have happened to you and the girls …” Abner clenched his fists and stared down at his wife, suddenly more precious to him than she had been in months.

  “They were after the horses, Abner. That’s all,” Sally said sensibly. “If they had been after us we wouldn’t be standing here having this ridiculous conversation. And maybe Two Stars looks like one of them, but you can’t prove he is one of them. And besides,” her voice dropped, “they both do wonderful work.”

  “Wonderful work,” Abner repeated. He grasped his wife’s shoulder. “Can’t you see, Sally, what they’re doin’? Just gainin’ our trust. All of us. Waitin’ until we think they are law-abidin’ citizens like the rest of us and they can call their friends from the West to come back home and do it all over again. And when they do, you know what they’ll do to the Abner Marshes and the Jeb Grants?”

  “Stop it,” Sally said, twisting away from him. “You’re frightening me.”

  “Good,” Abner said. “We been too complacent, lettin’ them live right here among us.” He charged out of the bedroom with Sally following close behind. Snatching up the rifle stored over the back door, he ordered Sally to “stay put” and headed outside. By dawn he had rounded up several of his neighbors, terrifying them with prophecies of midnight attacks and scalpings.

  Eight

  Blessed are the peacemakers …

  —Matthew 5:9

  The scrawny man behind the counter at Ludlow’s Variety Store in New Ulm, Minnesota, chewed on his cigar while he eyed the newcomer suspiciously. Things had been slow all day. Here was news. There wasn’t a man in town who wouldn’t be interested to know about a white boy from the East looking for the Injuns down on Jeb Grant’s place.

  The front door creaked, a bell rang, and a lanky man with a thick black beard ducked inside. “Quinn,” the clerk nodded.

  “Maybe you can help me, sir,” Aaron said, abandoning the clerk. He offered a handshake to the man named Quinn. “I’m trying to locate Jeb Grant’s farm. Actually,” Aaron said quickly, “I’m trying to locate Daniel and Genevieve Two Stars. They live on the Grant place.”