Tildie stood behind the chair, marveling that she was doing so without hurting. She let go and stood with her hands out to her sides.
“Very good,” said a voice in back of her. She jumped and grabbed for the chair as she lost her balance. Strong arms caught her and swept her up. Jan held her against his chest. “Does this mean I finally have a bride?” He kissed her nose.
Tildie giggled. “Put me down. I want to try a step.”
Boister, Mari, and Evie gathered around. Evie clapped her hands as Jan set Tildie on her feet and steadied her. When he let go she started to sink, so he wrapped his arms around her middle and stood close.
“Okay, Tildie, I’ll support your weight, and you walk. Right foot first.” She felt his right thigh pushing against the back of her right leg. She concentrated and managed to work with him, moving the heavy leg forward in a slow, dragging step. For some reason, her toes didn’t want to lift off the floor.
“Great. Now the other side,” urged Jan.
Six steps and she was exhausted. He kissed the back of her ear as she slumped against him. “We’ve got all winter. Before spring we’ll have you turned around, facing me, and we’ll be dancing.”
Tildie laughed softly at his optimism. He made it seem possible.
“Dancing!” Evie squealed.
“You don’t even know what dancing is,” scoffed Boister.
“She saw the Arapahos do the Sun Dance,” said Mari in defense of her little sister.
“She never saw a square dance.”
“You never saw a square dance either.” Mari’s jaw set in a defiant line.
“I did,” said Boister. “You just don’t remember.”
“That’s enough. You’ll have little imps dancing all over the house with your contentious words.” Jan’s voice interrupted their debate. “Let me put your cousin in her chair, and I’ll tell you an Arapaho Indian tale.”
Boister pushed the chair they had padded with deer skins over closer to the fireplace, and the girls pulled their pallet over as well. Instead of placing Tildie in the chair, Jan sat in it and kept her in his lap.
“Many years ago, the buffalo left the Arapaho. The women of the Arapaho frowned with worry. The children of the Arapaho cried with hunger. The chiefs of the Arapaho turned to Black Robe, a medicine man of great power. Black Robe didn’t have the magic to call the buffalo back to the plains without at least one buffalo to use his magic on. He decided to ask Cedar Tree for help and sent the mighty warrior west to hunt the buffalo.
“Cedar Tree hunted for many days and finally he saw black forms upon the horizon. He traveled eagerly toward what he hoped would be buffalo, but as he got closer, he began to doubt that he had found the buffalo. Then one of them spread wings and flew into the sky. Soon all the black forms sprouted wings. Clearly, they were ravens taking flight.
“Discouraged, Cedar Tree returned to the village and told Black Robe what he’d seen. The medicine man was greatly displeased.
“‘Don’t you know, Cedar Tree, that you have been tricked by your own thoughts. You did see buffalo. If you had remained firm in your belief, you could have walked among them and slain the biggest to save our tribe from starvation. Instead, you let them trick you into thinking they were black birds. You allowed them to fly away.’
“The Arapaho village suffered. One old woman took off her moccasins and boiled them to make soup. Her uncle, Trying Bear, an even older Indian, did not like the taste of his dinner and set off to find something else to put in the pot. He was so old he did not even have weapons.
“Trying Bear passed Black Robe sitting on a rock. Black Robe gave the old man a bow and arrow and told him he was to hunt until he found something, even if it was only the carcass of a buffalo long dead with only scraps of dried flesh clinging to the bone.
“Trying Bear hunted a long time and did find a dried buffalo carcass. He had no need to shoot it with an arrow, so he shot the arrow straight into the sky in celebration. The arrow landed back in the camp and Black Robe knew the old man had found what was needed.
“Black Robe painted his black pony white because this was part of his magic. Many Arapaho warriors followed Black Robe because they wanted to see what he would do. The medicine man traveled until the sun was high in the sky, then he came upon Trying Bear waiting patiently beside the dead buffalo. Black Robe took his magic eagle feather and threw it, point first, into the bones of the dried buffalo. Immediately, a live buffalo rose out of the dead one.
“Black Robe turned to Trying Bear, impatient because the old man just sat there.
“‘Shoot it,’ he commanded.
“Trying Bear shot it.
“Black Robe turned to the Arapaho who had followed him. ‘Do you see the ravens flying down to land in the field beyond the hill? Go shoot the buffalo you find there.’
“The men went over the hill and found the buffalo that had so long hidden from them. There was a great feast of thanksgiving in the village lasting many days.”
“Did they see the dead buffalo turn into the live one?” asked Boister.
“They said so,” answered Jan.
“Is it real?” asked Mari.
“What do you think?” asked Jan.
Marilyn turned to her big brother for his verdict.
“Only God can do a miracle. It’s a story.”
Jan nodded. “What truth is in that story? Why tell it?”
Boister scrunched up his face while he thought. “If you want to help, you can help even if you aren’t the best hunter. You have to do what you’re told to do.”
Jan smiled and roughed up Boister’s hair. “Right, and I told those Indians who told me that tale that God has many stories in His Book that says that God uses the weak to dumbfound the mighty.”
“Like Joshua,” said Boister, “at the Battle of Jericho.”
“And Gideon leading a handful of men to defeat an army,” added Tildie.
“David,” said Mari, “and Go-li-uff.”
“Jesus,” Evie said and clapped her hands.
“Yes,” said Jan. “Even Jesus came as a poor baby, not a mighty warrior. That confused the Jews.”
Evie stood up and went to stand beside Jan. She pushed at Tildie with her little hand.
“My turn,” she said, sticking her lower lip out in a pronounced pout. “Tildie, get up!”
Jan laughed. “You don’t really want to sit tamely in my lap.” He stood up and gently placed Tildie in the chair. “Since Tildie can’t dance yet, why don’t you and I do a jig?”
He lifted the little girl into his arms and twirled her around the room while singing a lively song in Swedish. Boister grabbed Mari by the hands, and the two spun around and ‘round, not really keeping step to the music.
Tildie clapped her hands and hummed along. Happy, she considered the many good times between them. Now, if she could only get up out of the chair and help more in the cabin.
Their days began to take on a routine. Jan carved shallow trays from a slab of wood and filled them with sandy dirt. Daily, Tildie taught the children to write their letters in the trays. Jan read from his books or told stories. Tildie exercised her legs with Jan’s help, then with two crutches Jan and Boister made for her. Slowly, she gained enough strength to stand on her own and walk.
“I’m going down to Fort Reynald to get some supplies,” Jan announced one night as they lay in bed, he on the pallet, and she on the pine needle mattress.
“How long will you be gone?” Tildie didn’t like the idea, and a plaintive tone invaded her voice.
“About a week.”
“Jan, what do we need so badly?”
“Flour, salt, and I’ll try to get Christmas presents for the children. Maybe there’ll be some material and you can make dresses for the girls.”
“Is it really necessary?”
“I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t think so, and I trust you’ll be all right. The weather’s been so warm, there’s little snow on the ground. It’s best that I go now, while I still can.” He reached up and patted her hand reassuringly. “Boister’s become right handy. You’re strong enough now almost to walk without those crutches. I’ll even leave Gladys with you.”
She grasped his hand. “Jan, come up here. Please. I don’t want to talk to you when you’re so far away.”
“All of two feet.”
“Please.”
“No, honey, it’s not a good idea.”
“Jan,” she pleaded.
“Enough, Tildie. Be quiet, or I’ll go to sleep with the horses.”
“They’d step on you.”
“As you’re stepping on my heart right now. Don’t ask such a thing of me, Tildie.”
“I’m sorry.”
He rose and gathered her in his arms to kiss her with all the longing that drove him crazy. He released her and sat back as far away from her as the tiny space would allow. “Do you understand, Tildie? I’ll be wanting us to marry just as soon as I get back.”
“I understand.”
“I’m going to sleep out with Boister and Gladys.” He quickly rolled up his pallet. “Good night, honey.”
“Good night, Jan.”
In the morning, they helped him get his things together. He readied Horse and Greedy Gert. He would ride on Gert and use Horse to pack out furs they had ready, but didn’t need to use themselves.
He kissed Tildie and the girls good-bye, then gave Boister a sturdy hug. “Take care of them for me. If the weather turns bad, it may take me a little longer to return. You’re not to worry, and don’t let the women worry either.”
Boister grinned, accepting the responsibility eagerly.
Jan rode off into the sunshine, following the path that led to a game trail down the mountain. The fine day begged Tildie to bring her chair outside, so they did their letters and sums in the dirt together. Evie drew pictures with her stick beside her older brother and sister. They were so peaceful in their endeavors that two chipmunks scampered on a log near the door with no fear.
Tildie gave thanks for the beauty that surrounded them and prayed safety for Jan.