taking these boys with you.”
“Listen, you Kraut—” DiMarco began.
“No, you listen. You let go of that boy right now and you leave this dormitory. And if I hear that you have harmed Odie or Billy or any other boy, I will find you and beat you within an inch of your life. Do you understand?”
For a long moment, DiMarco’s hand still dug painfully into my collarbone. Then, with a rough shove, he let me go.
“This isn’t over between us, Herman.”
“Go,” Volz said. “Now.”
DiMarco walked past me. Volz and my brother and Mose stepped aside to let him exit, then closed ranks again.
In the quiet after DiMarco’s departure, I heard Billy Red Sleeve sniffling. I picked up the corncob doll and returned it to him.
“Best keep that out of sight,” I said. “And don’t ever let yourself get caught alone with Mr. DiMarco, you understand?”
He nodded, opened the trunk at the end of his bed, and dropped the doll inside. Then he sat down with his back to me.
“You okay, Odie?” Albert was beside me now. “Christ, look what he did to your throat.”
I couldn’t see it, of course, but I could tell from the expression on his face that it must be bad.
“That man,” Volz said. “A coward, and worse. I’m sorry, Odie.”
Mose shook his head and signed, A bastard.
I’d been strapped before enough to raise welts and leave bruises, but there was something about being choked almost to death that was different. It wasn’t punishment, which everyone knew DiMarco enjoyed meting out. This was a personal attack. I’d hated the ugly gorilla before and been afraid of him. Now there was no fear, only rage. I swore to myself that DiMarco’s day would come. I’d see to that.
“Where were you all day?” I asked Albert.
“Busy” was all he said, and it was clear he didn’t want me pressing the issue.
I turned back to Billy Red Sleeve. “You okay?”
He didn’t reply. He sat slumped, staring at the floor, gone deep inside himself.
I had Albert and Mose and Mr. Volz. I thought maybe Billy Red Sleeve believed he had no one, and I couldn’t help thinking what a lonely place that must be.
But for Billy it would only get lonelier, because the next day he vanished.
CHAPTER SIX
SUNDAY MORNINGS AFTER breakfast we were required to attend the worship service, which was held in the gymnasium. We had two sets of clothing at Lincoln School, one for everyday wear and one just for Sundays and for whenever someone outside the school, usually someone well moneyed, was coming to look at the operation with an eye to donating. We sat in our Sunday clothes on bleachers. The service was conducted by Mr. and Mrs. Brickman, who occupied chairs behind a podium. The music was supplied by a portable pump organ, which Miss Stratton played. Mr. Brickman claimed to be a minister, though ordained in what church I never knew. He did the praying and preaching. His wife read the Bible lessons.
Christianity was the only religion allowed observance at the Lincoln Indian Training School. Some of the kids had gone to church on the reservations, Catholic more often than not, and a few of the girls wore little crosses on chains around their necks, the only form of jewelry tolerated at the school. But the Catholic kids didn’t go into town to the Catholic church. They sat in the bleachers along with the kids who’d grown up in isolated areas where the spirits they honored had Indian names.
Many of the staff were in attendance. Mrs. Frost was there every Sunday with Emmy, looking clean and fresh. I don’t think it was because she found the services particularly comforting in any spiritual way, but more that she wanted as much as possible to be a part of the lives of the children at Lincoln. I, for one, appreciated her there. Her presence was a reminder that the Brickmans were not everything, and that maybe even in the fires of Hell there might be an angel walking around with a bucket of cool water and a dipper.
When he preached, Mr.
“Listen, you Kraut—” DiMarco began.
“No, you listen. You let go of that boy right now and you leave this dormitory. And if I hear that you have harmed Odie or Billy or any other boy, I will find you and beat you within an inch of your life. Do you understand?”
For a long moment, DiMarco’s hand still dug painfully into my collarbone. Then, with a rough shove, he let me go.
“This isn’t over between us, Herman.”
“Go,” Volz said. “Now.”
DiMarco walked past me. Volz and my brother and Mose stepped aside to let him exit, then closed ranks again.
In the quiet after DiMarco’s departure, I heard Billy Red Sleeve sniffling. I picked up the corncob doll and returned it to him.
“Best keep that out of sight,” I said. “And don’t ever let yourself get caught alone with Mr. DiMarco, you understand?”
He nodded, opened the trunk at the end of his bed, and dropped the doll inside. Then he sat down with his back to me.
“You okay, Odie?” Albert was beside me now. “Christ, look what he did to your throat.”
I couldn’t see it, of course, but I could tell from the expression on his face that it must be bad.
“That man,” Volz said. “A coward, and worse. I’m sorry, Odie.”
Mose shook his head and signed, A bastard.
I’d been strapped before enough to raise welts and leave bruises, but there was something about being choked almost to death that was different. It wasn’t punishment, which everyone knew DiMarco enjoyed meting out. This was a personal attack. I’d hated the ugly gorilla before and been afraid of him. Now there was no fear, only rage. I swore to myself that DiMarco’s day would come. I’d see to that.
“Where were you all day?” I asked Albert.
“Busy” was all he said, and it was clear he didn’t want me pressing the issue.
I turned back to Billy Red Sleeve. “You okay?”
He didn’t reply. He sat slumped, staring at the floor, gone deep inside himself.
I had Albert and Mose and Mr. Volz. I thought maybe Billy Red Sleeve believed he had no one, and I couldn’t help thinking what a lonely place that must be.
But for Billy it would only get lonelier, because the next day he vanished.
CHAPTER SIX
SUNDAY MORNINGS AFTER breakfast we were required to attend the worship service, which was held in the gymnasium. We had two sets of clothing at Lincoln School, one for everyday wear and one just for Sundays and for whenever someone outside the school, usually someone well moneyed, was coming to look at the operation with an eye to donating. We sat in our Sunday clothes on bleachers. The service was conducted by Mr. and Mrs. Brickman, who occupied chairs behind a podium. The music was supplied by a portable pump organ, which Miss Stratton played. Mr. Brickman claimed to be a minister, though ordained in what church I never knew. He did the praying and preaching. His wife read the Bible lessons.
Christianity was the only religion allowed observance at the Lincoln Indian Training School. Some of the kids had gone to church on the reservations, Catholic more often than not, and a few of the girls wore little crosses on chains around their necks, the only form of jewelry tolerated at the school. But the Catholic kids didn’t go into town to the Catholic church. They sat in the bleachers along with the kids who’d grown up in isolated areas where the spirits they honored had Indian names.
Many of the staff were in attendance. Mrs. Frost was there every Sunday with Emmy, looking clean and fresh. I don’t think it was because she found the services particularly comforting in any spiritual way, but more that she wanted as much as possible to be a part of the lives of the children at Lincoln. I, for one, appreciated her there. Her presence was a reminder that the Brickmans were not everything, and that maybe even in the fires of Hell there might be an angel walking around with a bucket of cool water and a dipper.
When he preached, Mr.
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