Chapter 28

Bless the Lord . . . who redeemeth thy life from destruction; who crowneth thee with lovingkindness and tender mercies.

Psalm 103:2, 4

L isBeth awoke feeling numb. Then she remembered and tried to make sense of it. But there was no sense to be made. The sounds of children’s laughter caught her attention. She quickly scrubbed her face and arranged her hair, and then made her way carefully out of the family quarters and into the Birds’ Nest. Supper was in process, and twenty young Dakota girls were eating and chattering and passing food. LisBeth wondered which platter held the hapless rooster. Charity sat at one end of the table, Rachel at the other. Jim Callaway had been invited to join them and had managed to fold his long legs under the table at Charity’s right.

Conversation was held in a mixture of Dakota and English. Hesitating in the doorway, LisBeth noted with wonder that Jim was conversing in both languages with equal facility. Just as he reached over to serve more cornbread to the child sitting next to him, Jim noticed LisBeth. He was on his feet immediately and at her side, taking her elbow and guiding her to the table.

The group at the table maintained an awkward silence for a few moments, then Jim began telling a story and the meal was resumed with its usual clatter. The Dakota girls stole curious glances at LisBeth which she returned with a mechanical smile. She managed two bites of cornbread before her stomach warned her that further assaults would be refused. She turned to coffee and drank three cups, appreciating both the warmth and the stimulation the caffeine offered her dulled senses.

When the meal was over, the girls divided into teams and cleared the table, scraped the plates, and took over washing. One of the older girls politely encouraged “Miss Charity” and “Mrs. Rachel” to entertain their company and let the girls finish the evening chores. Charity and Rachel accepted the offer with relief and turned to LisBeth. Another uncomfortable silence ensued.

Agnes Bond spoke first. “LisBeth, dear,” Agnes said, nervously dabbing at her upper lip with a napkin. “Charity and I have talked, and I feel that it is necessary for me to assure you that I—um—” Agnes cleared her throat nervously. “Well, dear, we both know that I have a reputation of—” Agnes paused again. “What I wanted to say, LisBeth, is, that any revelations about your past that have been made here at Santee will stay here at Santee. Only those things which you yourself decide to share with others will go beyond the reaches of this mission.” Agnes blinked rapidly and looked over at Charity, who smiled and nodded with satisfaction. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I promised Carrie that I would help her finish weeding the beans.” Agnes made her exit quickly.

LisBeth put her elbow on the table and leaned her head on her open palm. She stared at the scarred table and said to Jim, without looking up. “I didn’t know you could speak Dakota, Jim.”

Jim waited a minute before answering carefully, “You don’t know a lot of things about me.”

Charity interrupted, “LisBeth, we need to—”

LisBeth held up her hand and fairly barked, “No. I can’t talk about it yet. I’ve got to sort it out, think it through.” Jim reached for her. Taking her hand gently, he pulled her to her feet, wrapped her hand about his arm, and covered it with his own.

“May I request the honor of your presence on an evening walk, Mrs. Baird?”

With relief, LisBeth nodded and allowed herself to be led through the door of the kitchen and along the road that led over a gentle rise. Jim held his hand over LisBeth’s and didn’t say a word as they walked along. Finally, LisBeth repeated, “I didn’t know you spoke Dakota.”

“Guess I left that part out the other night. It was part of my duty in the army. I speak Lakota, too, which is the language you should learn if you want to know about your people. Learn the language and you go a long way toward understanding—not just what they say, but the way they say it. Even the things they don’t have words for.”

Once again, they were quiet until LisBeth asked. “Can you tell me about it? About how you learned?”

Jim took a deep breath and stopped walking. He studied the dust and then raised his serious eyes to LisBeth’s. Behind the gray-green, a light flickered. They had walked down the road and found the steep path that led down to the creek. Jim guided LisBeth down the path, and they settled by the creek. “After Slim Buttes, I was so full of bitterness and blind hatred—for life, for a God who would allow those things to happen, for men who do such things—and that included me. I groped through the miles and had decided to die when a bunch of Lakota found me. I told you about all that already.”

Jim looked down at LisBeth. She was listening, fascinated. “But I didn’t tell you the details about when I was in the village. One of them was called Soaring Eagle. He wore a locket and a cross and chain about his neck. He told me he had a white mother and a sister somewhere.”

LisBeth gasped and clutched at his arm. Jim answered. “God only knows how he made his way this far east. He saved my life—even gave me a horse from his own herd. I rode it south until it gave out. Then I walked until I stumbled onto your homestead in the dead of night. You know the rest. Joseph found me and took care of all the things that haunted me. I got a new life.”

LisBeth spoke low, “I wish I could find my way through the muddle, Jim. I wish there was someone to show me the way out.”

“He’s there, LisBeth,” Jim said confidently. “He’s there. You just have to ask.”

“This—situation.” LisBeth said. “What should I do? Where do I belong now? Everyone will know—”

“Do you want to meet Soaring Eagle?”

LisBeth frowned. “I don’t know.”

“If you don’t, we can leave now. Tonight. I’ll take you home.”

“We can’t do that. Agnes hasn’t had any chance to visit with Charity. Rachel Brown needs time to pack, to take leave of the children. We promised to distribute the clothing personally.”

“Then I’ll find him and keep him away.”

“Do you think he wants to meet me?”

“I can ask him.”

LisBeth considered the idea. “Do you think he really killed Mac?”

“What if he did?”

LisBeth shook her head from side to side in bewilderment. “I can’t quite fathom it. It’s too bizarre to be believed.”

“Unless there’s a supernatural force at work.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, maybe God is at work in both your lives. Maybe he’s using all this craziness to work out some plan for your good.”

LisBeth sighed. “I’m too tired for a theological discussion. I don’t know how I feel about it. I wish I could be like you—get over it—get on with things.”

“I had supernatural help.” Jim put his hand on her shoulder. “LisBeth, you have a hole in your heart. Only God can fill it I’ll always have to come back to that until you’ve come to realize that only God has the answers to your questions.”

LisBeth avoided the spiritual direction of the conversation. “I don’t think I can bear to see him. I have this recurring dream of an Indian brave on horseback pounding at me, wearing that locket.” LisBeth shivered. “I don’t think I can bear to see him, even if he is my brother.” LisBeth shivered again, and they got up to go. They had only taken a few steps when she stopped abruptly and looked up at him. “Does it make a difference to you that I’m half Lakota?”

“I thought we already settled that. Why do you ask?”

“Well, it seemed to bother David Braddock quite a lot when I told him.”

Something flickered in the gray-green eyes. There was anger in his voice when he asked, “What did he say? Did he do something to hurt you?”

LisBeth shook her head and Jim relaxed. He took a deep breath, and said firmly, “It’s a big responsibility, knowing another person’s innermost hurts, LisBeth.” I know some of yours because they’ve been made sort of public, whether you wanted it to happen or not. That kind of knowing forms a bond between folks, but sharing the hidden hurts, that forms a bond that’s even stronger. I vowed I’d never let anybody know about my hidden hurts. But I’ve discovered that I can trust a few people.

“So when I tell you these hidden things about me, you got to realize that I’m saying something powerful about how I feel about things.” His eyes sparkled as he looked at her. “I’ve shared some things with you, and now you own a piece of me that no other woman on earth owns. And I gave it to you knowing full well about who your brother is.” Jim changed the subject abruptly. “We better be getting back.”

The two walked back to Birds’ Nest where Charity and Agnes, Rachel and Carrie waited anxiously. LisBeth bid Jim good night and went inside to face them.

Soaring Eagle was working James Red Wing’s black mare when a stranger drove a wagon into the farmyard and stopped near the corral. Climbing down, the stranger walked slowly toward the corral and leaned lazily on the fence, watching Soaring Eagle as he taught the black mare to change leads in midair. The mare was feisty and swift, but she was also intelligent. The moment she understood what was expected of her, she went through a dazzling set of flying lead changes. Pulling her to a halt, Soaring Eagle dismounted and patted her neck, praising her and watching with amusement as she tried to ignore him.

“You think I believe that you are evil. But I see your ears turning to hear me. You do not wish to admit it, but you enjoy doing what pleases me.”

The stranger shouted out. “Perhaps she is also one of a strange people, Soaring Eagle.”

Soaring Eagle stared at the stranger carefully. Jim took off his hat and smiled. Slowly, recognition shone in Soaring Eagle’s eyes. He smiled back. “She is among a strange people, Jim Callaway. How could she act any other way?” Soaring Eagle unbridled the mare, who trotted away, snorting and bucking playfully. As he walked to meet Jim, Soaring Eagle reached out to grasp his hand in friendship.

“I am glad to see that you have found your way back to life.”

Jim nodded. “I, too, am glad to see that you have found a way to live.”

Soaring Eagle shook his head. “I am not living yet, my friend. I am watching these people to see if they can show me the way to live. It is a hard thing.”

Jim pointed to the locket. “You still wear your war trophies.”

“They have become part of me.”

Jim leaned on the fence and scratched the back of his neck. Soaring Eagle pressed him. “You must say whatever it is that makes your hand shake, Jim Callaway.”

Jim grinned sheepishly and pointed to the locket. “One of the women you carry inside of that locket is here. I have brought her here. Your sister.”

“How do you know it is my sister?”

“Carrie Brown told us. The minute she saw LisBeth—that’s her name, LisBeth Baird—the minute she saw LisBeth, her eyes got big and she just blurted it out. Said she was the pretty lady in Mr. Soaring Eagle’s locket.”

Soaring Eagle pondered the revelation. He took the locket from around his neck and handed it to Jim. “You look.”

Jim complied. Looking from the locket to Soaring Eagle he nodded his head. “That’s her. LisBeth King Baird. She was married to a soldier. MacKenzie Baird. She said he was killed at the Little Big Horn—the Greasy Grass. She said he had this locket on.”

“She told you this?”

Jim nodded.

Soaring Eagle said sadly, “I am sorry I have brought pain to my sister.”

“Her people brought much pain to you as well.”

Soaring Eagle looked at Jim. “I would have killed them all if I could. Now I look for a better way to victory. They want to keep us all on the reservation. I will learn from them. Then I will leave the reservation and show them that the Lakota are men.” Soaring Eagle learned against the fence and folded his arms. “I would like to know my sister.”

“She’s very confused about things right now.”

Soaring Eagle turned to face Jim. “Tell my sister that I will not make her look upon my face.” Jim nodded, and then Soaring Eagle added, “Wait.” He trotted to the barn and came back clutching a yellowed quilt. “Tell her that I give her this to say that I grieve for what has caused her sorrow.”

Jim asked, “What about what her people—my people—have done to you ?”

Soaring Eagle looked at Jim and said slowly, “In my village there were bad Lakota. They did evil things. Here I have learned that there are villages where there are good whites. People who wish to help. What is happening to my people is bad, but not all the whites are bad. When you give this to my sister, you must tell her that what was done to her husband was a bad thing. But not all the Lakota are bad. Her father, Rides the Wind, was a good Lakota. Tell her that her brother, Soaring Eagle, is trying to be a good Lakota.” Soaring Eagle ran his hand over the surface of the quilt.

“This was made by Walks the Fire. Jesse King. The story was told of this blanket, that when it was brought into our camp, Jesse King’s friend, Prairie Flower, owned it. Prairie Flower kept it with her even after Jesse King left our people. It has remained with us and we have remembered that not all the whites are bad. Now you give it to my sister and tell her that I wish her peace. I hope that she will live in peace.”

Soaring Eagle walked back to the corral and whistled low. The black mare came trotting over. Soaring Eagle turned to Jim. “When this mare was wild, she kicked at me. But then I showed her that I was kind, and now she comes to me willingly. When I was wild, I kicked and fought the white man. But I have seen that the white man can be kind. And so I stay among them willingly to learn their ways. It is better than killing.”

Jim nodded in agreement, and then smiled when Soaring Eagle added with a shrug. “There are too many of them. We cannot kill them all.”

“Do you regret that, Soaring Eagle?”

Soaring Eagle smiled ruefully. “I have spent much time wishing that things were different. That way brought only unhappiness. Now I am trying to learn to live with the things that are different.”

“And has that brought you happiness?”

He pondered the question before answering. “It makes my heart hurt less to stop hating. Sometimes I think that I will never be what you call happy. That is gone forever. But I am learning to live. I do not ask to be happy. I am from the old ways. The young ones who go to the mission—if they learn new ways, then happiness will be for them. That is good to watch. And I can live with the emptiness in my heart.”

Soaring Eagle motioned to Jim. “You go back to my sister. Tell her that I am going hunting tomorrow with John Thundercloud. I give her this gift and I ask her to remember me without hatred.”

Jim drove the wagon back to the mission alone, a yellowed quilt folded neatly beside him on the wagon seat.