Wild Thunder (28 page)

Her neck is like the swan,
Her face it is the fairest
That e'er the sun shone on.

—W
ILLIAM
D
OUGLAS

 

 

 

A chill wind blew across the river. The trees were bare of leaves. Autumn was gone. Winter was quickly taking a firm grip on the countryside.

A large crowd of Potawatomis were assembled, their eyes wide as they watched the final stages of the children's schoolhouse being completed.

The children were not as frisky as usual. They stood as quietly and poised as the elders. They had something now that usually only belonged to the children of white people. They were eager to learn, especially since they adored Clara, their teacher. They admired and respected her.

She was so kind and generous to them all; to them she was almost like a second mother.

Clutching a warm shawl around her shoulders, a bonnet protecting her head from the wind, Hannah stood back with her sister Clara as the last shingle was hammered into place on the roof of the new Potawatomis schoolhouse.

Hannah reached for Clara's hand and clung to it as she so proudly watched Strong Wolf climb onto the roof.

Struggling and groaning as he lifted a bell one inch at a time up the ladder, White Beaver climbed up after Strong Wolf.

Finally there, White Beaver handed Strong Wolf the large bell.

As Strong Wolf steadied the bell against the roof, White Beaver scrambled onto the roof beside him.

Hannah held her breath as Strong Wolf and White Beaver inched their way to the small steeple that had been built on the very top center of the roof, where the bell would ring every school day morning.

“I hope they don't slip,” Hannah said, giving Clara a nervous glance.

“Lord, if they do . . .” Clara gasped, eyes wide as she watched them.

Hannah's gaze held on Clara for a moment, warmed through and through to see her sister so healthy. Two years older than Hannah, tall and slim like Hannah, Clara stood with her back straight and shoulders squared. Her shawl partially hid a high-necked white blouse beneath it that was trimmed with delicate lace. Clara also wore a black velvet skirt that only barely showed her black patent-leather shoes as the brisk breeze shifted the hem from place to place.

Hannah smiled to herself as she gazed at her sister's hair. Clara wore it the same now, as she had for so long. Her brown hair was swept up in a tight bun at the back of her head.

Hannah's gaze shifted to Clara's gold-rimmed eyeglasses that were perched on a long, straight nose. Her sister's cheeks were pink with excitement, the dimples on each cheek deepening whenever her thin lips would quiver into an excited smile.

Strong Wolf's voice and the loud applause and shouts from the crowd drew Hannah's eyes back around. She gazed up at her husband, sighing when she saw that he and White Beaver had managed to get the bell hung. To her it was so beautiful. The meaning behind it was so wonderful. These lovely children would now learn ways to fight back when the whites tormented them in their future.

It was wonderful to know that the way these children would defend themselves would not have to be with weapons, but with words, and the knowledge of reading and mathematics.

Yes, the future for the children was bright, and she was proud to be a part of it all!

“Let us now hear how it sounds!” Strong Wolf shouted from the rooftop. He dropped a rope that was attached to the bell through a small hole in the roof, down to the one room of the schoolhouse.

The people became even more excited when they heard the bell begin to toll. The children began to dance and sing. The women rushed to the large outdoor fire where they had placed pots of food for a celebration. The elderly gazed in wonder at the school once again, then went back to smoking their pipes beside the fire.

“Hannah, they've done it!” Clara said, clasping Hannah's hand harder as the bell's peals resounded through the air, clear, crisp, and beautiful. “Do you hear it? Isn't it the loveliest sound?”

Hannah smiled over at Clara. “Yes, so lovely,” she murmured. “And, Clara, I can never tell you enough times how happy I am that you have chosen to teach here at the Potawatomis village. You could have chosen to teach even as far away as New York state. It would be much too long between visits.”

Clara, tears rushing from her eyes, turned to Hannah and drew her into her embrace. “I have you to thank for so much,” she murmured. “You, Father, and Mother. If you hadn't cared for me, night and day, during my recent illness, I wouldn't have made it. I never want to be far from my family, and Lord knows that Saint Louis is far enough away from Mother and Father.”

“We'll go as often as we can,” Hannah said, then stepped away from Clara and placed her hands over the small ball of her belly that stretched the cotton material of her dress tautly across it. “But I won't be doing much traveling myself. Not until my child is born.”

“I can hardly wait to be an aunt,” Clara sighed, gazing down at Hannah's show of pregnancy.

“The baby kicked!” Hannah said, eyes wide.

“Let me feel it,” Clara said.

Hannah inched her hands aside, to make room for Clara's.

Clara's eyes lit up. “Oh, my Lord, Hannah,” she said. “I
do
feel it.”

Then Clara let out a squeal of delight. “And I feel something more,” she cried. “The child moved, kind of like rolling. I could swear I felt an elbow!”

“Or a knee?” Strong Wolf said as he stepped up to them. He swept an arm around Hannah's waist. “My little miracle worker wife. She is making a baby whose spirit matches its mother's.”

Clara laughed softly, then smiled at White Beaver as he came to stand beside her.

“The schoolhouse is finished,” White Beaver said, his dark eyes gazing into Clara's. “I would like to go inside with you to see it, Clara.”

Hannah's eyes widened with surprise when Clara walked away with him, toward the school.

Now having a reason to, Hannah gave White Beaver a second, lingering stare. He was a shorter man than Strong Wolf, yet as muscled. He stood at least one head shorter than Clara. He was at least ten years older than Clara, who was twenty.

Hannah had noticed before that White Beaver's facial features were not as chiseled as Strong Wolf's, yet he was handsome in his own way. He generated much warmth as he spoke to people, and he had replaced Proud Heart in Strong Wolf's life, as best friend. He and Strong Wolf were inseparable now, their logic always matching the others. They laughed and talked and challenged each other in games.

“There seems more to White Beaver asking my sister to see the schoolhouse with him than meets the eye,” Hannah said. “Did you see how they looked at each other, Strong Wolf?”

“I can tell you how White Beaver feels about Clara,” Strong Wolf said as he watched Clara and White Beaver enter the schoolhouse.

“You know something that I don't?” Hannah said, turning to Strong Wolf.

“White Beaver is in love with Clara, and he says that she is in love with him,” Strong Wolf said matter-of-factly. “They met down by the river one evening. They just happened along during each other's baths.”

He chuckled. “They were alone when they met,” he said. “They became acquainted.”

Strong Wolf's eyes danced as Hannah stared incredulously up at him. “Yes, they made love, Hannah,” he said. “And I do believe we shall soon witness a wedding.”

“Why didn't you tell me about this before now?” Hannah asked, her words trailing off when through the glass at the window she saw her sister and White Beaver kissing.

“I felt it was your sister's place to confide in you about things that were so private.” Strong Wolf said. He took her hands and drew her next to him. He gazed into her eyes. “My woman, is not everything good happening for us now? And soon we should be having visitors.”

“You mean White Wolf and Dawnmarie?” she murmured, relishing his lips as he brushed soft kisses across her cheeks. She was happy for her sister,

“Yes, on their way to Mexico to find her true people, the Kickapoo,” he murmured.

He turned with a start when he heard the sound of horses arriving at the far edge of the village. “Perhaps they are here even now. As you know, I have been watching for them every day.”

Everything in the village became quietly numb as the horsemen grew close enough for everyone to see that they were pony soldiers from Fort Leavenworth, Colonel Mooney at the lead.

“No,” Hannah said, sighing heavily. “What now? Can't they leave us in peace?” She gave Strong Wolf a questioning gaze. “I thought you said that things were all right between you and the young colonel.”

“That is what I was led to believe,” Strong Wolf grumbled, frowning as he looked at the sabers in their sheaths at the one side of the soldiers' horses, rifles sheathed at their other. “They come heavily armed today, so I would not think it is to have a peaceful council with my people.”

He turned serious eyes at Hannah. “Go home,” he said thickly. “Mother is not well today. Stay with her. Be there for her as well as to keep our child from any danger.”

Hannah nodded and turned a pensive stare toward the school. When Clara came outside with White Beaver, Hannah ran to her and grabbed her hand. “Come with me,” she said.

“Why?” Clara asked, giving White Beaver a quick glance over her shoulder as Hannah led her away from him. She watched White Beaver rush to Strong Wolf's side.

“Clara, don't ask questions,” Hannah said, running past Strong Wolf on toward their house. “Just come on. It is best this way.”

“But I want to stay with White Beaver,” Clara cried, again giving him a frightened stare.

“As I would like to stay with Strong Wolf,” Hannah said, half shoving Clara through the door of the cabin. “But I am with child. I am no longer able to behave in the manner I did when so many called me a tomboy. Now I am a woman, responsible for more than my own welfare.”

Once inside, panting hard, Hannah turned questioning eyes over at Clara. “Why didn't you tell me about White Beaver?” she asked softly.

“You know, then, do you?” Clara said softly.

“Strong Wolf told me,” Hannah said, nodding.

“I wanted to be absolutely sure, Hannah, that he truly loved me,” Clara said softly. “Now I am sure. Isn't it wonderful?”

Hannah gave Clara a warm hug. “I'm so happy for you,” she murmured.

A soft cough behind them drew them around. They walked to the fireplace. They gazed down at Swallow Song, who lay on a pallet before the fireplace, sleeping soundly.

“I'm worried about her,” Hannah said. She bent to her knees and placed a hand on Swallow Song's brow. Then she gave a bright smile up at Clara. “Her fever is gone. She is going to be all right.”

“Thank God,” Clara said, settling down in an upholstered chair, sighing.

Hannah sat down opposite her. “Now, tell me about White Beaver,” she said softly, trying not to awaken Swallow Song.

Hannah stiffened when she heard Colonel Mooney and Strong Wolf exchanging conversation. She willed herself not to go to the door and listen. This was between her husband and the colonel.

Yes, she was learning that she had her own business to tend to . . . the household duties, and soon a child. She could no longer interfere in her husband's business.

“Hannah, all that should matter is that I'm in love,” Clara said, beaming. “And he loves me! I was going to tell you today about our plans to be married.”

Hannah rushed from the chair. She went to Clara and hugged her. “And isn't it so perfect?” she murmured. “We will both live in the same place, and we will both raise our children together!”

“I do hope that I have a child soon,” Clara said as Hannah went and sat down again.

“But this changes many things,” Hannah said, thinking of Chuck, and thinking of the schoolchildren.

“Yes, I know,” Clara said, staring into the fire. Then she smiled over at Hannah. “But truly not that much. I shall take my child to the school every day I teach. I shall spend evenings with Chuck, caring for his ledgers. And he has good help now, who care for his other needs. Hannah, he's going to be so surprised to hear about White Beaver!”

“Yes, he will, but oh, so happy, Clara,” Hannah said, then unable to hold back any longer, went to the door and slowly opened it.

She held her breath as she listened, then paled when she heard Colonel Mooney tell Strong Wolf that someone had stolen a good amount of their dynamite supply sometime during the night.

“Are you accusing the Potawatomis of the theft?” Strong Wolf said, his hand inching toward his sheathed knife.

Hannah died a million deaths inside as she awaited the colonel's reply.

And I am desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, hungry for the lips of my desire!

—E
RNEST
D
OWSON

 

 

 

“And so someone stole dynamite from your fort last night,” Strong Wolf persisted. “Is your presence here because you have come to accuse us of the deed?”

“No,” Colonel Mooney said, shifting his weight in his saddle. “I have not come to accuse, and not so much to even question about the theft, but to warn you that the dynamite was stolen.”

Strong Wolf's tensions lessened. He inhaled a slow breath, then stepped closer to the colonel's horse. “You have come to warn us?” he said, arching an eyebrow. “And why is that? Why would you think that warnings are necessary?”

“Whoever stole the box of dynamite did it for a purpose,” the young colonel said, his voice drawn. “Who is to say who it will be used against? Or what? I do know that I saw in my files, when I took over the duties from Colonel Deshong, that there had been some trouble not long ago about dynamite.”

“Yes, it is true that I stole dynamite,” Strong Wolf said, again stiffening. “But if you delved into the full truths about why, then you would know that I used the dynamite to correct something wrong done against my people. The theft was overlooked. Colonel Deshong agreed with what I did. And you? Do you disapprove?”

“Whatever Colonel Deshong did white he was in command at Fort Leavenworth, and how he handled it, was his concern,” Colonel Mooney said, resting his hand on the handle of his saber. “But now
I
am in charge. And the dynamite is what lies in question here. Dynamite is a lethal weapon in the wrong hands. In yours, it was used to destroy a dam. In someone else's, who is to say what it might be used for. Whoever stole it had a purpose. It is my job to discover
what
. It is
my
job to spread the word that the dynamite is perhaps in the hands of enemies.”

“And so you came to my village to warn us that perhaps someone might be planning to use the dynamite on my people?” Strong Wolf said stiffly.

“It could possibly happen,” Colonel Mooney said, nodding. “Some of my men brought me up to speed on things that have happened in the area these past months. I was told about a man under a Chuck Kody's employ.” He kneaded his chin contemplatingly. He cocked an eyebrow as he tried to think of Tiny's name. “Ah, yes. His name was Tiny Sharp.”

“Chuck Kody is my wife's brother, and Tiny Sharp was his foreman,” Strong Wolf offered. “Tiny Sharp disappeared a few months ago. No one has seen or heard of his whereabouts. Why do you mention him now?”

“I was told that he was a troublemaker,” Colonel Mooney said, clearing his throat. “I was also told that he had disappeared after having been discovered in many underhanded activities. Isn't it true that he was your ardent enemy?”

“Yes, he was my enemy,” Strong Wolf said, nodding. “In truth, I expect he has no true friends. He is a man with a dark heart, a man who could never be trusted.”

The young colonel rested a hand on the pommel of his saddle and rested his weight against it as he leaned down closer to Strong Wolf's face. “Do you think he is the man we might be after?” he said. “Do you think he might have stolen the dynamite? Do you know what he might have in mind for the dynamite?”

“I have not thought about him for some time now,” Strong Wolf said. “I have been involved in the affairs of my people.”

The young colonel sat straight in his saddle again and stared at the new schoolhouse. “That is a grand building you have there,” he said, then smiled down at Strong Wolf. “It is good that your children will have the same opponunities that the white children have. Someday I would like to come in and sit through the lessons, if the teacher would not mind.”

“The teacher is my wife's sister,” Strong Wolf said. “I am sure she would not mind having an audience while she teaches.” He smiled over at White Beaver, who seemed pleased to have his woman discussed in such a favorable way, then gazed up at the young colonel again. “The teacher is a woman. She will soon marry my friend, White Beaver.”

White Beaver stepped closer to the horse when the young colonel offered a handshake.

“I would also like to attend the wedding,” Colonel Mooney said, eagerly shaking White Beaver's hand. “I would enjoy becoming involved in all affairs of your village, and people. Until I met you, Strong Wolf, I greatly feared Indians. Now I wish to know more about them, to be
with
them.”

“And that can easily be arranged,” Strong Wolf said. “It will pleasure me to share our people's customs with you.”

A great explosion in the distance, that which shook the earth beneath everyone's feet, drew the conversation to a quick halt.

Having felt the explosion—it having even awakened Swallow Song—Hannah, Clara, and Swallow Song came from the cabin in a run. Hannah and Swallow Song clutched Strong Wolf's arm as Clara went to cling to White Beaver.

Another explosion rocked the ground. A billowing of black smoke shot suddenly into the sky.

“That seems to have come from the direction of the mystery cave,” Strong Wolf said, watching the smoke turning the sky to something similar to black ink.

He turned to a young brave. “Saddle my horse!” he shouted.

White Beaver ran and got his own steed. Many warriors followed.

“I wish to come with you!” Hannah cried as Strong Wolf swung himself into his saddle.

“The child, Hannah,” Strong Wolf said, reaching down to place a gentle hand on her cheek.

“Then, please be careful and hurry back to me,” Hannah said, trying hard to remember that she must not ride a horse now, or do anything else that might risk the child's life.

The Potawatomis and the soldiers rode off in the direction of the smoke.

Hannah sighed heavily, then gazed at length at the buggy she used while on her outings with Strong Wolf.

“No, Hannah,” Clara said; she seemed to have read Hannah's mind. “We really mustn't.”

“What can it hurt, Clara?” Hannah said, then gave Swallow Song a look when Swallow Song placed a gentle hand on her arm.

“Come inside, Hannah,” Swallow Song said in a motherly tone. “We will sit beside the fire while we wait for our men to return.”

Hannah sighed, then nodded. “Yes, let's,” she said, flanked on each side by women she loved. Clara took her right hand. Swallow Song took her left.

They went inside Hannah's cabin and sat by the fire.

To get their mind off their concerns, Clara read a novel, Hannah worked on Christmas decorations, and Swallow Song untied long tasseled strings that bound a small brown buckskin bag. She spread many colored beads on a mat beside her. On a lapboard she smoothed out a double sheet of soft white buckskin so that she could make a new pair of moccasins.

When they heard another blast, they glanced at each other, then lowered their eyes again and resumed their hobbies.