Heart of the Sandhills (15 page)

The troop left Fort Randall the next day, going overland and stopping at various Yankton lodges in the vicinity. Elliot kept careful records of every visit for the benefit of Senator Lance and his committee back in Washington. He wrote that all the bands he had met thus far were “very friendly and well disposed toward the whites. They like agriculture and seem to be cheerfully about planting crops with the assistance of their agent and farmer.”

At each group of lodges, the troops stopped and waited. While Elliot smoked peace pipes and took notes, Daniel and Robert rode ahead scouting the area. A week after they left Fort Randall on the Missouri, they rode into Fort Thompson where more than one hundred Indian lodges were camped. With Zephyr Picotte’s help, Elliot interviewed Brules, Two Kettles, and more Yanktonais. He assured them of the Great White Father’s peaceful intentions toward them and impressed upon them the absolute necessity of their keeping away from the hostile bands to the north.

Several chiefs, among them Iron Nation and Two Lances, made speeches assuring Elliot of their peaceful intentions. ‘White Bear concluded the meeting with a moving speech in which he declared that he was getting too old to fight anymore and that his many children wanted only peace. “We only wish to stir up the ground to feed our wives and children. We will trust our Great White Father to take pity on us and to help us. Send us tools for working the earth. Help us grow corn.”

While espousing their intention to become farmers, the chiefs reminded Elliot that they were often visited by their more warlike brothers to the north, and that while they themselves were content, they could not promise that some of the younger warriors would not be induced to join the trouble to the north. “We cannot this year grow enough for all our families. We will still need to hunt, but we will do so in peace with all white men we may meet. We only want to find buffalo. Our women will dig roots and gather berries. We will not fight.”

Robert Lawrence caught up with the party after two days into their trip up the Niobrara. That was the day Picotte’s horse tossed him next to a rattlesnake hole. The trader was eye to eye with a huge rattler when Daniel blew its head off. Picotte scrambled to his feet only to hear the sound of another rattler nearby. Two more were crawling out of the hole. He clubbed one and Daniel got the other. The two men stood side by side clubbing snake after snake after snake. When the last rattler was dead, the two men stood in the center of a circle of nearly fifty dead rattlesnakes. Picotte decided Two Stars—and by association, Robert Lawrence and Big Amos—were exceptions to his rule about the Dakota Sioux, after all.

To him that is afflicted pity should be shewed from his friend . . .

—Job 6:14

“Enlist? In the
army
? You can’t be serious!” Genevieve Two Stars stared past Aaron to where his Uncle Elliot stood looking uncharacteristically nervous. They had been traveling up the Niobrara for a week now and were about to descend into what Zephyr Picotte called “the most God-forsaken land you’ll ever see. Makes the
Mauvaises Terres
look like Paradise.” This was where Gen had expected Aaron to head back to Fort Randall and board a steamboat for St. Louis. He would visit family friends before taking the railroad home to New York. But Aaron had other ideas.

“I can’t officially enlist,” Aaron said. “Not until I’m twenty-one. But Captain Willets said he would treat me just like one of his soldiers and give me a taste of real army life. Civilians go along with army units all the time as volunteers. I’d be a volunteer.”

One look at Daniel and Elliot told Genevieve Two Stars she was defeated and there was no reason to begin a campaign that could only be interpreted as being overprotective. She had been around military men long enough to know better than to burden Aaron with the moniker, “Mama’s boy.”

“You know I’ve wanted to be a soldier for a long time, Ma.”

“You always call me
Ma
when you are set on getting your way, Aaron Dane,” Gen snapped. “I don’t appreciate it one bit.”

“Well,” Aaron said smiling coyly, “a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. And besides that, it usually works.” He tapped his foot nervously. “I don’t want to displease you. But I can’t see any better time or place to learn soldiering than now and here, with Daniel and Uncle Elliot to teach me. And Captain Willets is willing to put up with a raw recruit. At least I can ride. That’s more than Pinky could do.”

Pinky
. Poor Pinky. He had met them in Fort Randall with a commission but no assignment to a specific company. The day he reported to Captain Willets for duty, he was outfitted in his version of what a half-breed guide would wear—tomahawk, sheath-knife, Colt revolvers tucked in a red sash around his waist, a Springfield rifle lying across his saddle, and enough blankets and coats piled up to nearly hide what appeared to be a very good horse. Daniel and Robert had recounted Pinky’s demise so many times the troop had begun to call one another Pinky every time they made a mistake. The first time he gave chase after a buffalo, Pinky had left a trail of belongings across the prairie. When Daniel shot down a calf and it bleated with pain, its mother charged Pinky’s horse. Pinky was picked up half-conscious and taken back to camp. The next day when they broke camp, Pinky was gone. Yes, Genevieve considered, Aaron Dane was a good deal more prepared to soldier in Indian country than Pinky. She wondered if Pinky had a mother that worried about him. At least, Genevieve thought, she was not sitting back East worrying about Aaron in the West.

“All right,” Gen heard herself saying. “I won’t fight you on this. But –”

“Thanks, Ma!” Aaron smothered her with a hug, and she was suddenly aware of just how tall he was becoming.

“You have to write Aunt Jane and tell her how you roped me into agreeing.” She smiled at Elliot. “And
you
, my dear Captain Leighton, have to write Jane and tell her why this is such a wonderful idea.”

Elliot removed his hat and ran his hand through his long silver hair. “I’ll handle Jane,” he said quickly. “She’ll understand.” He did handle Jane. Lucky for him, Jane was too far away for her husband to witness her blustering response when she finally read his letter. And, after considering all the options, Jane Leighton arrived at the same conclusion Genevieve had, and she understood. She didn’t like the idea of Aaron soldiering. But she looked at Meg and Hope and realized that, do what she would, the children were going to grow up. And if God had called Aaron Dane to serve Him in the military, He was certainly providing excellent training for a successful career. Jane didn’t need to know about Pinky to know that.

June 15, 1867

Dear Amanda,

I am an expert now, for I have killed a buffalo with bow and arrow. It’s true. At first Daniel and Robert would not listen to my pleas to be taught to hunt like the Sioux, but when they finally believed I was sincere, they said all right. It took them a while to find the right feathers, the right wood the right sinew to create a true bow and arrows as their fathers taught them to make, but when it was all finished I think they enjoyed it. At least they enjoyed laughing at me and my poor attempts at target practice. But then I began to improve and finally, today, we have chased down a small herd and would you believe it, I brought down one of the old fellows.

We are traveling through some of the strangest country. Zephyr Picotte calls it “God-forsaken” and says that it is worse than the Badlands up in Dakota. Everyone agrees that no one will ever live here but Indians and buffalo, who seem to thrive on the strange grasses that cling to the sandy earth. We call this land the Sandhills. At times it seems we are in the middle of a vast desert. Our horses’ hooves sink into the sandy soil, and they labor so to get up the hills that at times we must dismount and lead them and then we all flounder along. Then at the top we may have to take a different route because on the other side of the hill there is a crater, like God reached down from heaven and scooped a huge amount of sand up. The wind creates these “blow-outs,” and there is plenty of that.

Gen rides in the cook wagon, and lately we have left most of the cook’s things on the pack mules so the wagon will be lighter and the wheels don’t sink so. Zephyr Picotte says that when we reach the Platte we will have a road so wide to travel that we will think the Corps of Engineers has gone ahead of us to make a perfect wagon road.

We have not seen a tree for three days now. That should tell you something about how dry it is. The horses and men suffer greatly from alkali water and the dust and grit blowing in our faces.

I will post this letter when we reach Fort Laramie. When you receive it, Miss Whitrock, I ask that you think fondly of the one who sent it, who today carved your name into a rock jutting out of the sand above our camp here in the Sandhills of Nebraska
.

“He did
what?!
” Stephen Bannister dabbed his barely visible dark moustache with the corner of his napkin.

“He carved my name,” Amanda said, tossing her blonde curls.

“Rather impertinent, don’t you think?”

“Impertinent?! Indeed not,” Amanda said. “I think it’s romantic.” She fluttered her eyelashes and glanced sideways at Stephen, sprawled on the silk chaise in her parent’s drawing room. Pretending to shiver she said, “Just think Stephen . . . some
savage
all done up in feathers and war paint could be looking at it right this minute. Wondering what it means.” She gave a sigh. “I do miss Aaron. I wish he’d come home.”

Stephen stood up and stretched lazily. “Oh, I expect he will sooner or later. With all sorts of stories to entertain the ladies this winter.” He smiled at Amanda. “And the rest of us poor, boring New York lads will have to take a back seat. For a while.”

“
Ladies?!
” Amanda sputtered. “He’s
my
beau, Stephen Bannister, and you know it. Aaron’s not the kind of boy to be simpering around all the
ladies
.”

“Forgive me, Miss Whitrock.” Stephen bowed stiffly. “I was not aware that your interest in Master Dane was quite so intense.”

Amanda tossed her curls again and looked out the window. Her lower lip trembled and a tear gathered in the corner of her eye. “I do hope he’s safe,” she said. “It sounds dangerous, what he’s doing.”

“I doubt it’s very dangerous,” Stephen said, reaching for his hat. “Mrs. Leighton would have her husband’s head if she thought her dear, sweet Aaron were in any real danger.”

“Don’t, Stephen,” Amanda ordered. “Don’t make fun. I like Mrs. Leighton. I like
both
Mrs. Leightons. In fact,” she said, getting up, “I think I’ll just call on them this afternoon. I’ll read Meg a story. And play with Hope for a while.” She smiled. “You can escort me over there on your way home.”

Stephen put his hat on and went out into the hall. “Whatever you say, Miss Whitrock.” He leaned against the sideboard beside the front door while Amanda pulled a short cape over her shoulders and perched a hat atop her head.

“I’ve a letter from Aaron,” Amanda said when Jane Leighton appeared at the front door of Leighton Hall. “I thought I’d share it with you. With Meg. If that’s all right.” Amanda shifted nervously from foot to foot beneath Jane Leighton’s no-nonsense stare. “And I wondered if it would be helpful to you if I played with Hope for a few minutes. In the garden? I’ve been so busy this summer, but mother finally let me off some of the chores, and—”

“Miss Whitrock,” Jane said firmly, “you are welcome in this house anytime you wish to pay a visit. You don’t need an excuse. We’re happy to have you. But please don’t insult my intelligence with all that babble about chores and your mother.” She stepped aside. “We both know better. Now come in.”

Amanda stepped into the entryway of Leighton Hall. Her eyes swept up the wide staircase to the Palladian window above. Once again, she was surprised at the grandness of the house. The Leightons kept their elegance to themselves, that was for certain. Passersby on the street would never have guessed the interior of the plain old house was so exquisite. Amanda removed her hat and cape and handed them to Betsy, who had been with the Leightons since she was a girl. Glancing in the gilt-edged mirror opposite the stairs, Amanda could not resist the thought that anyone would be happy to be the mistress of the grand old house, although a fresh coat of paint on the walls would liven things up a bit.

“Would you like some tea?” Mrs. Leighton was saying. She didn’t wait for a reply but instead guided Amanda toward the back of the house. “We’re out in the gazebo today. Meg enjoys the fresh air and the scent of the flowers.” Together they stepped out onto the back porch. Mrs. Leighton closed her eyes and inhaled. “I must say the gardens here at Leighton Hall are a delight.” She turned to Amanda. “I know you are uncomfortable around Meg, Miss Whitrock. May I suggest that you forget she cannot see and simply treat her like any other one of your friends. She does get lonely, and now that her strength is returning, she is learning more and more how to manage things for herself.”

They were at the gazebo. Amanda took the two steps up onto the wood platform. Meg was seated opposite her in a blue plaid dress, her hair done up in an intricate braid.

“Oh, Meg!” Amanda exclaimed. “Who did your hair? It’s stunning!”

Meg reached up to lay her open palm on the back of her head. “Why, I did it, Amanda. And thank you.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“My ears work just fine, Amanda.”

“I’m sorry, Meg. I always seem to say the wrong thing, don’t I?”

“Don’t be silly.” Meg reached her hand out into space. Amanda took it and Meg squeezed. “Sit down. I haven’t seen you in ages. What have you been up to? Aunt Jane, do get Aaron’s letter. I’m certain Amanda would love to hear it.”

“I’ve got a letter too,” Amanda said. “That’s why I came. I thought you’d like to hear it.” She looked over to where Hope sat playing quietly with a tea set nearby. “And then I thought I could play with Hope. Or read to you. Or—” She fumbled with her small drawstring bag. “But first, I’ll read.”

“I’ll have Betsy bring you girls some tea,” Jane said abruptly. She got up and went into the house. After instructing Betsy to take tea and muffins out to the gazebo, she headed upstairs to check on Mother Leighton. When she found the older woman standing on the landing staring down into the garden, she paused.

“Is that Amanda Whitrock?” Mother Leighton demanded. When Jane nodded, the older woman snorted. “What’s she up to do you suppose?”

“She’s gotten another letter from Aaron. She wanted to read it to Meg. And she’s going to play with Hope for a while.”

“Amanda Whitrock came over to
play
with Hope?” Mother Leighton shook her head. “What’s come over that girl?”