Anna Thunder sobbed, “Little Fawn.”
“Who stole the silverware? Answer me!” Sister Enid continued to shake the Comanche.
The teacher seemed to have lost all self-control, gritting her teeth and breathing heavily. Anna Thunder turned blue. And couldn’t catch her breath. Several moments later, I watched the Comanche’s eyes roll back and her lids closed. Her thin body went limp and she slumped to the floor.
Though my hatred for Anna Thunder ran strong and deep, it was a horrible sight. The vengeful way Sister Enid fell upon the Comanche filled my heart with anger—an anger that was impossible for me to conquer. Sister Enid’s actions and her words sickened me.
With a Nde war cry, I hurled myself at the teacher!
I didn’t blink when she brought her fist against my temple. My skull was tough. Nor did I flinch when she screeched in my ear.
There was something unnatural in the way Sister Enid looked at me. Her eyes were washed-out blue-green, like that of a dead owl. Unfocused. Unseeing. Yet fixed upon me.
I heard the sound of running footsteps.
Someone grabbed me by the collar and dragged me, feet flying, to the corner of the room. Once there, she threw me against the wall. I saw it was Sister Sarah when she grabbed a handful of my hair and pounded my head against the wall.
Slapping my face again, and again, Sister Sarah’s hand covered my cheek, until I thought I would pass out.
I asked the Creator to stop my tears, for they were pushing behind my eyes. I refused to let my enemy see a weakness in me.
I tried to stand, my weight supported only by the wall behind me as I edged myself to the corner. I breathed the smell of moth balls, of chalk clinging to Sister Sarah’s dress as she stood over me. Her teeth bared, the veins on her forehead bulging.
What was that sound?
It filled the room, filled every corner and spilled over into my mind, the high-pitched animal wail of despair, hopelessness. I didn’t know the voice was mine until Sister hoisted me to her camphor smelling lips.
“Shut-up, you little heathen. You’ll pay for this, girl. I promise you!”
My head throbbed hard against my temples and white flashes, like summer lightening, danced in front of my eyes.
“Sister Louisa! Sister Bernadette!” The head-mistress bellowed. “Come here!”
Sister Bernadette grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me into the pantry. Her large cumbersome body held the door fast against any attempt I might make to escape.
“Take the Comanche upstairs,” Sister Enid ordered.
“I’ll deal with the Apache girl later.”
Soon the noise and memory of Sister Enid and Sister Sarah seemed to fade away, leaving me in a dark world filled with quiet numbness.
I must have fainted, because the next thing I remember was standing at the top of a long stairway, supported by Sister Louisa and Sister Bernadette, while Sister Enid looked on.
You think you’re smart, like all you thieving, murdering Apache kind. But you’re not smart.” Sister Enid said. “You’ll end up in jail or on a reservation bearing some no-good Indian’s brats, or die like a dog. There’ll never be a place for you in the white world. Remember that girl!”
Hatred and unspeakable evil twisted Sister Enid’s thin face. Even Sister Louisa seemed taken aback by the cruelty of her superior’s words.
“The girl’s trainable, Sister. She’ll be able to earn her keep,” Sister Louisa said.
Sister Enid didn’t seem to hear the teacher. Instead, she looked at Sister Bernadette and said. “Did Sister Sarah take care of the Comanche?”
“Yes, Ma’am, the young teacher stammered. “She told me to hold her down. . .She hit the girl. . .That’s not right. . .just like hitting Jenny Blackhawk wasn’t right.”
“You stupid, hulking woman. Who are you to tell me what’s right?”
“They’re only children. Girls. It’s wrong, Sister Enid. Wrong.”
“Wrong? It seems I was wrong to accept you here, Sister Bernadette. To give you a home. Have you forgotten it was I who let you come here, I who accepted you when no other school would have you. Have you forgotten this?”
“No, Ma’am.”
“Not only do you question my wisdom, my authority—”
“Ma’am, I do not. . .understand.”
Sister Enid sneered. “You are incapable of understanding anything. That is why you are here. Now take the girl to the attic and leave.”
“Sister Enid, is this wise? The doctor is coming.” Sister Louisa said, taking a step toward the wall.
“Are you, too, questioning me? Defying me?”
“If we are discovered, our actions may not be understood by the others,” Sister Louisa cautioned her superior.
“Understood? Do you think that I care what an Indian doctor thinks, what he reports? They all have to be punished, don’t’ you understand? They have to be punished for what they did.”
“Punished? Why?”
“For the murders. Everyone last one of them must pay.”
“Sister Enid, perhaps we should take this girl back down stairs. The Comanche is the one you really want to punish, isn’t she?”
Sister Enid was no long listening. Her grip tightened on my arm. I could no longer feel my hand or my fingertips. I wanted to scream. I wanted to laugh. This could not be real, my mind cried out. This could not be happening to me again.
If I closed my eyes, I could make it all go away. I would be back home. Grandfather would tell me a story. There would be fresh game roaster over a camp fire. If I tried very hard, my mind could force it all to go away.
Still, even when I closed my eyes, I heard only Sister Enid’s voice. Dripping with hatred.
“I watched. I saw it all,” she said. “Mother told me to hide under the wagon where I would be safe. When it was over, she would come back for me. Only she never came back. . . the Indians rode down the hill, their war lances heavy with human scalps. First, I watched the Comanche kill my father, then my mother. The leader, he wiped my mother’s blood on his face and laughed.”
“Saints help us all,” Sister Louisa whispered, releasing her hold on me.
“I still see it. Every night. Every day. Each time I look into one of their faces. All of them must pay. They will all pay.”
“Sister Enid, the Indian Wars are over. The killing was done on both sides.”
Sister Enid laughed. It was a cruel, demented wave of sound. Sister Bernadette turned and ran down the stairway leaving me alone with Sister Enid and Sister Louisa.
I was more frightened that I was the night the Uniforms had burned my village and taken my prisoner.
Sister Enid turned the door and took a key from her belt. It was a giant key, gleaming sliver.
I stared at the large wooden door. A hot wind roared from beneath it. The hinges creaked as the door was yanked open.
“Bring the girl here,” Sister Enid ordered.
“I—”
“Do as I say!”
“No,” she replied.
I stiffened in surprise and my gaze flew to Sister’s Louisa’s face. I saw her hard-gray eyes clouded with compassion.
Sister Enid grabbed my wrist and jerked me to her side, then shoved me inside the dark room. Rooted to the floor, I watched the door slam behind her. Heard the key turn in the lock.
I knew with absolute certainty that Sister Enid was leaving me here to die!
I would die, alone, in the attic.
Friendship is held to be the severest test of character. . .
It is easy we think, to be loyal to family and clan, whose blood is in our own veins.
But to have a friend, and to be true under all trials is a mark of a person!
--Ohiyesa (Dr. Charles Eastman)
Santee Sioux