Heart of the Sandhills

by Stephanie Grace Whitson

  She stood up. “Now get yourself back onto the bed. There’s some blood on the bandage and we didn’t bring you this far to get a new infection and to start all over again. Elliot and Aaron and Robert and Big Amos say they won’t start for home until you are ready to come with them. So you owe it to them to take care of yourself. I’m going to go get some fresh water. When I get back, you need to be back up in bed.”

  When Gen returned with the fresh pail of water, Daniel was waiting in bed. When she began to unwrap the bandage, he braced himself. He watched her while she worked, waiting for the quick breath, the moment when she would look away and break his heart.

  When the last strip of cloth fell away from the wound, she did indeed take a deep breath. And she did look away from the stump … to look directly at him. Her eyes were shining with tears, but still she smiled. “I don’t think you really even need a bandage anymore. The blood is from a little tear where there was a stitch. It’s nothing.”

  He didn’t realize how tense he’d been until he relaxed and slumped back against the pillows. His hands were shaking as he brushed his hair back off his shoulders and clasped his hands behind his head. “Elliot—Elliot thinks we might be able to think of a better way for me to walk.”

  “I know you can,” she said.

  He took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking I can probably ride a horse whether I can walk or not. I mean,” he said, looking down at his legs. “Most of the gripping is done with the knees. I’m weak, but I think I might be able to do it on a gentle horse.”

  “You’ve always liked a horse that had spirit,” Gen said.

  “What if I fall off and land on my bad leg?” he said.

  “Then you get up and try again. And again. And again. Until you find a way.” She busied herself with the bandages, with smoothing the blankets at the foot of his bed, with lighting the lamp beside the window. She positioned her chair beside the lamp and lay her Bible on the table.

  “I’m going to walk over to the mess hall and see if it’s too late to get you some supper,” she said.

  When she walked by the bed, he grabbed her hand. She caught her breath and waited, her heart pounding.

  “I’m not hungry,” he said.

  “All right,” she said. “Then I’ll—I’ll read to you?”

  “That would be nice,” he said gently. “In a minute.”

  She looked down at him. With his free hand he motioned with his index finger. “Come here, Blue Eyes. If you don’t mind a kiss from a one-legged coward.”

  As it turned out, she didn’t mind. And it wasn’t just one kiss.

  The next morning when Elliot stopped in to visit, Daniel ordered Gen to go away. “Don’t go away angry, best beloved,” he grinned. “Just go away. I need to talk to Elliot.”

  “Mrs. Grainger is making a new dress for the Thanksgiving ball,” Gen said. “I’ll see if I can help her with any handwork.”

  When Gen was gone, Daniel swung his leg over the edge of the bed and sat up. “I’m weak as a newborn foal, Elliot. But I’m wondering …” and he laid out a plan.

  Elliot smiled. “We can do that,” he said. “But let me get Robert and Big Amos and Aaron over here. They might have ideas, too.”

  The men spent most of the morning together. Then they summoned Picotte and gave him a new carving assignment. As soon as he left, Daniel began to practice walking with a crutch. He was dizzy and he almost fell more than once, but Big Amos kept up a hilarious running commentary, and by the time Gen returned, Daniel met her at the door smiling. He put his arm around her and pulled her to his good side. “How’s that?” he asked, grinning at Aaron.

  “Seems like old times,” Aaron said.

  Gen blushed.

  Over the next week Daniel began to eat more. He headed outside with his crutch and finally was strong enough to walk all the way to the stables and back on his own. Every day he grew stronger and better able to balance on one leg. When the infirmary beds began to fill with soldiers with various complaints, he and Gen moved into the room offered by Dr. and Mrs. Grainger.

  “I think you’ve walked a few miles today,” Gen said one evening. She ran her hands over his shoulders and arms and commented on the muscles. “That’s the man I fell in love with,” she whispered, leaning close to kiss him. He returned the kiss. She closed her eyes and wished for more. It was not given.

  He stayed away longer during the day. The grayness disappeared from his face, and by the end of the second week, when they joined the Graingers at their supper table, she looked across at him and realized every trace of what had happened was gone … except for the crutch.

  There was talk of returning to Fort Laramie. Robert and Big Amos wrote letters saying they would be home for Christmas. Aaron and Elliot wrote the same news to New York. But Daniel said nothing about what might happen with the two of them after Fort Laramie. Gen tried not to question. She thanked God for his healing and the strength returning to his body. And she longed to tell him her secret … but held back. She didn’t know what she was waiting for, but it was a gift for a special moment. She would know when the time was right. And it was not right. Not yet.

  Thirty

  To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under the heavens … a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.

  —Ecclesiastes 3:1, 4

  They were leaving. Going to Fort Larmie, and then through Mitchell Pass again eastward to Fort Randall. From Fort Randall, Robert and Big Amos would head home to Nebraska. Aaron and Elliot would board one of the last steamships to navigate the river headed for St. Louis—if the river wasn’t frozen over by then. If it was, they would head out on horseback to Sioux City and the railroad. Either way, they would be home for Christmas and Miss Amanda Whitrock would have her bearskin rug.

  But Daniel didn’t say what they were doing. When she asked, he shrugged. “Be patient, Blue Eyes. All things come to those who wait.”

  “But what comes after Fort Laramie?” she finally asked. “We’re leaving tomorrow, and I don’t know where we are going.”

  “We are going to Fort Randall,” Daniel said.

  “I mean after that.”

  He smiled. “Well, after Fort Randall you are spending the rest of your life with me.”

  She stamped her foot in mock anger: “Tell me.”

  “I can’t. Not today.” He pulled her down onto his lap and kissed her. “Just wait until later. I’ll tell you everything then.”

  “All right. I’ll wait,” she said. “But I just want you to know you are not the only one in this family with a secret.” She jumped up. “And I’ll bet mine is better than yours.”

  Elliot appeared at the door. Daniel grabbed his crutch and went out. And Gen packed. It didn’t take long to collect her clothing and Daniel’s and tuck them into a bag. She left the red dress for last, fingering the lace at the neck and remembering how he had teased her about it. She’d never worn it. She had begun to fear she never would.

  There was to be a dance that evening. This was nothing new, for the post band often provided music for entertainment on Friday nights. The men lamented the lack of women. Sometimes drawing straws relieved the shortage. Those who drew short straws began the evening as surrogate women, tying yellow ribbons on their sleeves and agreeing to follow rather than lead for half the evening. When the band took a break, the armbands were traded and the “men” spent the rest of the evening dancing as women. It was cause for good-natured joking and not a few fights. But then a fight or two provided entertainment, too, and no one appreciated good entertainment like men about to spend a winter alone in “the howling wilderness.”

  Gen and Daniel had never participated much in the normal fort activities—Gen because she was taking care of her husband and Daniel because he couldn’t. So when Robert Lawrence came by after lunch and told her Daniel wanted her to get ready for the dance, Gen was surprised.

  She donned her blue calico for the dance and waited.
And waited. She could hear the band tuning up and see people headed for the empty barracks where the dances were always held. Still, there was no sign of Daniel—or the others, for that matter.

  Mrs. Grainger and her husband left for the dance, but they didn’t ask her to join them. Instead, they suggested she enjoy the sunset from the rocker on the front porch. And they smiled mysteriously.

  She had gone inside to get a book to read when there was a knock at the door and Aaron called out, “Ma, you there?”

  Gen headed for the door, worried when it was only Aaron with Big Amos and Elliott. Daniel was nowhere to be seen.

  “Where’s Daniel?” she asked. “Is something … ?” She stopped in midsentence, for Daniel was there after all, riding toward them astride a spirited chestnut gelding. Riding. So that was the secret he had kept from her. He had overcome his fear of falling and learned to ride again. A horse with spirit. Just the kind he liked.

  He was wearing a bright blue shirt with a scarf knotted at the neck and thigh-high leather boots. He looked wonderful, and when he smiled at her, there was such joy in his eyes she wanted to cry. She started down the steps, but, as it happened, there was more to Daniel’s surprise for his wife.

  He held up his hand. “No. Stay there. I’ll come to you,” he said and, pulling the horse up, he dismounted—carefully, but without help. When his wooden foot hit the ground, he wobbled a little. Gen held her breath when he grabbed the stirrup to steady himself and the chestnut sidled away. But he regained his balance in time, handing the reins to Aaron before taking a deep breath and heading for the porch.

  Gen watched him approach, her hands clasped beneath her chin. Her Daniel was walking. Walking without the crutch. Without even a cane. When he stepped up on the porch and put his arms around her, she began to cry.

  “I can’t dance yet,” he whispered, “but I still want to take you over to hear the music.”

  “You never could dance, best beloved. At least not the way white people do.”

  He chuckled. “Come to think of it, you’re right about that. All right, then. No dancing. Just walking. Together.”

  Robert and Big Amos, Elliot and Aaron went on ahead. Daniel took Gen’s hand and together they walked toward the barracks on the opposite side of the post. Daniel explained how Picotte had carved three legs before they found wood light enough for him to manage. “The real inspiration, though, was when Aaron had the idea of these high boots. They seem to help me balance.”

  “What about riding?” Gen asked.

  “That came back immediately,” Daniel said. “The only thing that bothered me was maneuvering a foot I can’t feel into a stirrup. I have to put it in with my hand, which is a nuisance. But I can bear with that.”

  When they arrived at the barracks, he put his arm around her waist as they went through the door. Doctor and Mrs. Grainger greeted them. Someone else offered punch, and before long they were standing in a corner talking with Robert and Big Amos about the journey home.

  “Which one of you is to be the woman tonight?” Daniel teased, holding out a yellow ribbon.

  Big Amos took the ribbon, but then he gave Robert an odd look before making some strange excuse and disappearing. Robert followed suit.

  “Good to see you up and around,” a familiar voice said. Daniel turned around just as John Willets walked up and held out his hand.

  Daniel shook it and thanked him, aware of the slight pressure on his back as Gen moved her hand up and down between his shoulder blades. Don’t make a scene. Please.

  “Mrs. Two Stars,” Willets said. “I hear you are leaving in the morning.”

  Gen nodded.

  Awkward silence followed, until Daniel cleared his throat and said, “I suppose you came to ask my wife to dance.”

  Willets blue eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and concern.

  “No—I only—”

  “I’m glad you did,” Daniel said. “Dancing isn’t quite on my menu yet.” He looked down at Gen. “How about it, Mrs. Two Stars? There’s a shortage of women. Why don’t you help out? It’s been a long time since you used what you learned at Miss Bartlett’s back in New York.”

  Amazed, Gen looked up at him. She frowned slightly. “Are you—are you sure?”

  “I’m sure,” Daniel said. He held out his hand to Willets. “You’ve been a good friend, John. Thank you—for everything. Now go dance with my wife.”

  He bent down and kissed Gen on the cheek. “Just one dance, Blue Eyes.”

  “But it’s only just started,” Aaron protested when Daniel and Gen got ready to leave. He was wearing a yellow ribbon around his sleeve and had been a good-natured partner to several half-drunk soldiers that evening.

  Daniel knew Aaron was right. The band was just taking its first break of the evening, and the music would likely last until long past midnight. And in the morning more than one soldier would mount watch with a splitting headache from too much punch and too little sleep. “I’m getting stronger, but my leg—”

  “I’m sorry,” Aaron said quickly. “I forgot about the leg.” He looked down at Gen. “Good night, Ma.” He hugged her and went back inside.

  Moonlight flooded the parade ground with light so bright they could have seen the flag at the top of the flagpole, had it still been flying. As it was, the flagpole cast a long shadow in the general direction of the battery and the mountain howitzers.

  Daniel was limping slightly by the time they reached the Graingers. A wagon waited outside already loaded with provisions for the trip south. “We’ll be at Fort Laramie before snow falls,” Daniel said as they made their way alongside the wagon toward the Graingers’ front porch. He grunted with the effort to climb up on the porch and sat down with a sigh of relief in one of the two rocking chairs the doctor’s wife had brought with her to her husband’s new assignment a few months ago.

  “I hope you didn’t overdo tonight,” Gen said gently.

  “I did,” Daniel said. “But it was worth it. I’ll likely be sore for a few days … but I’ll be in the saddle for most of the next few days anyway. That will help.” He laughed softly. “Although I suppose my backside will be sore from that. And who would have ever thought Daniel Two Stars would get saddle sore like a fresh recruit.”

  Gen was standing behind him, rubbing his shoulders. “That feels good,” he said, reaching around for her hands. He pulled her around and down onto his lap. Tracing the line of her jaw down her throat he lifted her chin and kissed her. “Don’t you think it’s time you told me?” he asked, nuzzling her ear.

  “Told you—what?” she gasped softly, closing her eyes, praying he wouldn’t stop.

  He lifted her free hand and kissed the Palm. “Blue Eyes,” he said softly, “earlier today you said I wasn’t the only one with a secret.” He kissed her lips gently. “You even hinted your secret was better than mine. Well, now you know mine. I can ride a horse again. I can walk.” He put his hand on her waist. “There’s nothing I can’t do, Blue Eyes.” He looked into her eyes and whispered softly. “Nothing.”

  She caught her breath and returned his gaze. When she saw the answer to her unspoken question in his eyes, her heart leaped with joy. She could feel her face grow warm as she blushed, and she laughed nervously.

  “I think I know your secret,” he said.

  “You do?” Her voice wavered.

  “You brought the red dress … the one I teased you about the day I left Fort Laramie.” His hand traced the line from her chin to her waist. “The one without too many buttons.”

  She shook her head. “That’s not what I was talking about.”

  “What then?”

  She sat up straight, stroking the back of his hand while she spoke. “That night when we camped in the Sandhills by the spring-fed lake. You remember?”

  He laughed softly. “Of course I remember.”

  “Well … you … we … started something.”

  “We—what?”

  She pressed his open palm against her waist.
“We started a family.”

  Daniel took in a sharp breath. “Are you—sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure.” When he didn’t say anything more she began to worry. “I know it isn’t the best time. I—I’m sorry if—”

  “Sorry? Don’t say you are sorry, little wife.” He pushed her off his lap and hobbled to the edge of the porch, leaning against the railing while he stared up at the sky. “Come here,” he said quietly, pulling her into his arms. “I think,” he whispered, “that I must be the happiest man beneath the moon this night of nights.” He kissed her. After a few moments he asked, “Do you still have that red dress?”

  Her heart thumped. “Of course.”

  “Good,” he said, leading her across the porch and inside the darkened house. “It will come in handy.” He stopped at the door to lean down and kiss her once more before muttering, “Another time.”

  November 3, 1867

  Dear Amanda,

  This will be my last letter from the frontier. We are in Fort Randall, and if all goes as planned we’ll be on board the steamship Belle and headed home tomorrow morning.

  Captain Willets stayed at Fort Phil Kearney, as did Picotte. It’s been snowing, and we made the last day of our journey across Nebraska with a cold wind at our backs. I think we must have left Fort Phil Kearney just at the right moment to keep from getting snowed in. Behind us in the distance, a wall of dark gray clouds promises winter is coming. Picotte told some truly hair-raising stories about winter storms … but there will be time for those once I am back in New York.

  I don’t think Gen will mind if I tell you some wonderful news, and that is they are going to have a baby. Gen says in the spring. They have gone to Santee with Robert and Big Amos, and so will be with friends when the baby is born. But I know they won’t be staying—Daniel could never be happy farming.

  When we were crossing Nebraska earlier this year we camped at a veritable oasis in the sand hills. Daniel thinks there is a future in those hills for anyone who cares to raise cattle. It’s an interesting idea. Everyone seems to think Nebraska is a wasteland. Some of the maps label the very place where we found an oasis as the Great American Desert. I wonder what future generations will think.