tepee, her heart racing. They joined a group of women on a foraging expedition. Unaccustomed to the weight of a cradle board on her back, Jesse stumbled along, fascinated by the women’s knowledge of what grew on the prairie. They dug up roots and gathered berries until their skin bags bulged. Jesse began to see the prairie in a new light. On the trail, she had admired the flowers, but the wide expanse of scenery had soon taken on a sameness. Indeed, once or twice even Homer had fallen asleep while he drove, lulled by the monotony of the land. He had sworn about the worthless land.
“Just look at it, Jess. You see anything worth lookin’ at? No woods for lumber—how’s a man to build a house out here? Nothin’ to build a decent fence, neither—not even enough rocks fer that! No rivers to float yer crops to market. No way to build up a trade. It’s a desert, Jess—a worthless desert. Let the Injuns have it, I say!”
Homer, Jesse thought. She wondered at the lack of emotion she felt at the thought of him. He had been her husband, but he was gone now, and she found herself in such an unbelievable situation that all her energies were used to cope with it. The Indian obviously meant for her to stay and feed his child. Surely the others will look for us, she thought. But perhaps not. Except for George and Lavinia, we had no friends there… and the storm… Her thoughts whirled round and round, until the child in the cradle board cried to be fed, and she stopped to nurse him.
The women stood about her in a circle, watching and giggling. One insolent girl poked Jesse’s arm, prodding at each freckle that dotted the wind-burned skin. Old One finally came hurrying up and scolded them all, shooing them away and sheltering Jesse from their curious eyes with the cradle board. Jesse looked up into the wrinkled face. “Thank you,” she said. Old One could not understand the language, but the appreciative tone meant much. Old One pointed to the child and said, “Wablenica.” Jesse repeated the word. Old One pointed a finger at herself. “Wakanka.” Jesse parroted the word.
Prairie Flower witnessed this scene, and something stirred in her. The white woman was trying. Was she lonely? She certainly looked bewildered. Yet, she had not flinched when they poked and prodded her strange white skin with the brown spots. She had looked back at them with her cool, gray eyes.
When the child finished eating, Old One helped Jesse rewrap the baby and take up the cradle board once more. Prairie Flower left the group of women who laughed and giggled at the white woman’s clumsy ways and approached Jesse to offer her digging tool to her. Jesse took it, but looked about in confusion. She had no idea what to dig. Prairie Flower walked along, indicating plants, showing Jesse where and how to dig. Jesse was soon finding her own plants and roots. Prairie Flower nodded her encouragement
“Tinpsila,” she said, pointing to a root already in her own bag. Jesse tried to say the word, but the new sounds were difficult. Prairie Flower went on patiently. Digging up another root she said, “Pangi.”
Jesse found one and called out, “Pow-gay!” The women looked up and laughed at her, but Prairie Flower corrected her and smiled encouragement.
Jesse remembered only one thing from that first day among the other women. They could be unbearably cruel as they laughed and made fun of her. But Wakanka—the old one—was kind. And the beautiful one with the gentle eyes seemed to like her.
That night Old One showed Jesse how to cook what they had collected. Rides the Wind arrived, ate, and departed without a word to either woman. He seemed not to notice Jesse at all, except to grunt with satisfaction when he saw her feed his son.
It was late when the door flap opened and he entered the tepee. Jesse, who had been asleep, woke when he touched her shoulder. She sat up, her heart pounding, but the Indian only moved to another part of the tepee, opened
“Just look at it, Jess. You see anything worth lookin’ at? No woods for lumber—how’s a man to build a house out here? Nothin’ to build a decent fence, neither—not even enough rocks fer that! No rivers to float yer crops to market. No way to build up a trade. It’s a desert, Jess—a worthless desert. Let the Injuns have it, I say!”
Homer, Jesse thought. She wondered at the lack of emotion she felt at the thought of him. He had been her husband, but he was gone now, and she found herself in such an unbelievable situation that all her energies were used to cope with it. The Indian obviously meant for her to stay and feed his child. Surely the others will look for us, she thought. But perhaps not. Except for George and Lavinia, we had no friends there… and the storm… Her thoughts whirled round and round, until the child in the cradle board cried to be fed, and she stopped to nurse him.
The women stood about her in a circle, watching and giggling. One insolent girl poked Jesse’s arm, prodding at each freckle that dotted the wind-burned skin. Old One finally came hurrying up and scolded them all, shooing them away and sheltering Jesse from their curious eyes with the cradle board. Jesse looked up into the wrinkled face. “Thank you,” she said. Old One could not understand the language, but the appreciative tone meant much. Old One pointed to the child and said, “Wablenica.” Jesse repeated the word. Old One pointed a finger at herself. “Wakanka.” Jesse parroted the word.
Prairie Flower witnessed this scene, and something stirred in her. The white woman was trying. Was she lonely? She certainly looked bewildered. Yet, she had not flinched when they poked and prodded her strange white skin with the brown spots. She had looked back at them with her cool, gray eyes.
When the child finished eating, Old One helped Jesse rewrap the baby and take up the cradle board once more. Prairie Flower left the group of women who laughed and giggled at the white woman’s clumsy ways and approached Jesse to offer her digging tool to her. Jesse took it, but looked about in confusion. She had no idea what to dig. Prairie Flower walked along, indicating plants, showing Jesse where and how to dig. Jesse was soon finding her own plants and roots. Prairie Flower nodded her encouragement
“Tinpsila,” she said, pointing to a root already in her own bag. Jesse tried to say the word, but the new sounds were difficult. Prairie Flower went on patiently. Digging up another root she said, “Pangi.”
Jesse found one and called out, “Pow-gay!” The women looked up and laughed at her, but Prairie Flower corrected her and smiled encouragement.
Jesse remembered only one thing from that first day among the other women. They could be unbearably cruel as they laughed and made fun of her. But Wakanka—the old one—was kind. And the beautiful one with the gentle eyes seemed to like her.
That night Old One showed Jesse how to cook what they had collected. Rides the Wind arrived, ate, and departed without a word to either woman. He seemed not to notice Jesse at all, except to grunt with satisfaction when he saw her feed his son.
It was late when the door flap opened and he entered the tepee. Jesse, who had been asleep, woke when he touched her shoulder. She sat up, her heart pounding, but the Indian only moved to another part of the tepee, opened
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