Through Rushing Water Part 23

Ready?" Will asked.

Sophia b.u.t.toned her coat. "Certainly," she said. The truth was she would never be ready to do what lay before her. But she had no choice.

Nettie shoved her hands into mittens and nodded grimly. The three of them set out for church into a January day too sunny and beautiful for the bad news they brought to the tribe. James and Henry had already left.

"How will they manage?" Sophia asked. "I cannot imagine how difficult this will be. I have never felt the attachment to place that the Poncas have."

"Nor I," Nettie agreed. "The church moved us around. No town holds my heart."

"I don't know where my people are from or where they're buried." Will nodded at the bluff, the Ponca cemetery. "But for the Poncas, this land is their history."

A gust off the river swirled dry snow across the frozen ground.

Nettie s.h.i.+vered. "It's got to be warmer in Indian Territory."

Sophia took the older woman's arm, walking on her west side to block the wind. "Is there any possibility the move will be good for the tribe? Might life be easier for them?"

"So far the Indian Office has had nothing but bad ideas." Will frowned. "If they really want the Poncas to become Americans, shouldn't the choice be theirs? Isn't that what this country is supposed to be about?"

"Good morning, Will, Teacher, Miss Nettie!" Brown Eagle and his family joined them.

Rosalie took Sophia's hand. "Teacher? Are you crying?"

"The wind." Another lie. She wanted to gather Rosalie and all her students, hug them, and vow to keep them safe. Who could she write to? Perhaps the president could reverse Congress's decision.

"Elisabeth still feeling poorly?" Will asked.

Brown Eagle nodded. "With all of us out of the house, I hope she can rest."

Sophia scanned the congregation as they settled in. Standing Buffalo and his family were absent. Who else was ill? Bronchitis, pneumonia, tuberculosis, scrofula, or influenza? Measles, diphtheria, whooping cough, smallpox? It did not matter. In the absence of medical care, illness ravaged all.

"We should pray," she whispered to Will at her side.

"I am."

Henry led the congregation in singing "Savior, Like a Shepherd Lead Us." His sermon's first point was that G.o.d's people were mobile. He gave the example of G.o.d telling Abraham to move from Ur to the Promised Land.

"The Commissioner of Indian Affairs isn't G.o.d," Will muttered to Sophia. "And Indian Territory isn't the Promised Land."

Point two was that the Son of G.o.d had no place to call His home. By point three, heaven is our real home, the adults s.h.i.+fted in their seats, exchanging worried glances over their children's heads.

Henry stepped down from the pulpit and attempted to smile. "The Poncas have had terrible times these last few years: illness, raids from hostile Sioux, gra.s.shopper plagues, poor hunting, bad weather. The Great White Father has heard of your plight and provided money for the tribe to move to Indian Territory. The chiefs will meet here Friday to plan the move." He raised his arms for the benediction, but few heard over the clamor.

Brown Eagle and the other men crowded around Will. Henry counted himself the spiritual leader, and James's t.i.tle was Indian Agent, but the tribe looked to Will for answers.

"What did he say?"

"Move to Indian Territory? Are we not in Indian Territory now? We are Indians and this is our territory."

"We made peace with the Brule."

"My children are buried here. My parents and grandparents are buried here. I cannot leave."

"My house is built. My land is plowed."

Marguerite slipped her hand into Sophia's. "Will we have school tomorrow?"

"We will have school whenever the weather permits." It would not do to burst into tears. She pretended to open the top of Joseph's head and peer in. "Do you have room for more? What should I teach?"

"The fourth reader!" Joseph suggested.

"Certainly! And mathematics: percentages and interest rates." Sophia prayed G.o.d would not allow anyone to cheat these fine people. "And science: how your body works, plants, animals." Whatever she could discover about the flora and fauna of Indian Territory. "History, government, how to write a good letter."

"Music. I would like to learn to read music."

"Me too!" said the students milling about.

Sophia smiled. These people were as resilient as Russians, with half the pathos. She gave in to impulse and hugged Rosalie. "Yes, we shall sing every day."

January thaw brought the temperatures above freezing. Men from Hubdon and Point Village filled the church Friday for the meeting with the inspector from the Office of Indian Affairs.

"You don't have to be here," James told Will. "You have other work."

The rev took Will's side for a change, but not for a good reason. "No sense having Will build anything now."

"He stays." Brown Eagle settled the argument, then switched to Ponca for the rest of his explanation.

"The last council, in 1875," Will interpreted for him, "your interpreter was Ioway and drunk. You did not understand us. We did not understand you. Big mistake."

"Tell him-" Henry pointed at Brown Eagle. "Inspector Kemble brought two interpreters-"

"They are Omaha," Brown Eagle said.

James scowled. "The language is the same."

At least close enough for the Indian Office's purposes. Will leaned toward them and took a deep breath in through his nose. "Are they sober?"

Reverend Hinman, visiting from the Santee Reservation, weighed in on the issue. "Few interpreters are competent in the language of treaties and negotiations."

Inspector Edward C. Kemble, thick of frame and mustache, also had 1875 on his mind. "The Ponca chiefs signed an agreement to move to Indian Territory."

"No, we agreed to live with the Omaha," Standing Bear said.

The interpreters exchanged a look. The government had already shrunk the Omaha tribe's reservation down to a tiny square, then without asking, squeezed the Winnebagos in. Could their land hold a third tribe?

The inspector ignored the discussion and continued in a louder voice. "Last year Congress allocated funds to move the Poncas to Indian Territory."

"Money? Now they send money?" White Swan held up his empty hands.

Smoke Maker shook his head. "I do not believe in money until I see it."

Long Runner muttered, "We will never see it."

"We want an accounting of all the tribe's money," Standing Bear said. "Back to the first treaty."

The inspector banged his gavel on the pulpit. "What an insubordinate bunch of malcontents. I thought you said these Indians were well behaved," he muttered to James in an undertone that carried to the back pews.

"Well behaved but not dead." Brown Eagle crossed his arms.

The whole proceeding paused for a spiritual dressing-down by the rev. Henry wrapped up with, "G.o.d wants His people to live in peace."

"How can we live in peace when our children are starving?" Standing Bear asked.

Inspector Kemble jumped on that idea. "For the sake of your children, you must move to Indian Territory. You'll be able to plant and harvest. You won't have to work so hard. The Indian Office will pay you for this land and provide what you need: farm equipment, cattle, houses, schools. You will live as American farmers. Other Indians live there-"

"What other Indians? Friends or enemies?" Chicken Hunter asked. "Maybe we do not want to live near them. Maybe they do not want us."

"Kaw, Cherokee, Quapaw, and Osage, who speak a language similar to Ponca. They have agreed to give you some land."

"Some land? Good for hunting or farming?" Big Elk asked. He'd done enough of both to know the difference.

"Are there buffalo?" Black Ghost had been too young to go on the last hunt.

"Is there water? Does it rain and snow?" Buffalo Chip asked.

Henry recited a verse about G.o.d giving rain on the good and bad. Will counted the question unanswered. In fact, most questions went without a decent answer.

White Eagle stood. "This land is a gift from G.o.d to the Ponca people. We did not sell it. We will not desert it. Here we live. Here we will die and be buried with our ancestors."

Henry scowled. "You must give up this childish ancestor wors.h.i.+p and accept the Christian understanding of heaven."

Will couldn't stand it anymore. "The Poncas don't wors.h.i.+p their ancestors. They believe those who've gone before will greet them on the other side. Brings to mind how you said your father would meet you at the heavenly gate."

The creases in Henry's forehead deepened to canyons. "Don't you have work to do?"

Inspector Kemble brought out a map. "The Indian Territory is better." The men squeezed in close and frowned at the chicken scratches on the paper.

"No rivers." Big Snake shook his head.

"Where are we?" Buffalo Track asked. "How far away is this Indian Territory?"

The inspector didn't have a US map, but Will knew someone who did. "I'll be right back." He borrowed a horse from Clear Sky Walker and rode to the school.

The students cl.u.s.tered around the map.

"How is the meeting going?" Sophia asked, looking not a bit ruffled by the addition of a dozen children from Point Village and Hubdon.

He gulped. Sophia's beauty always made him lose his thoughts. Probably best to go the Ponca route with her and not look her in the eye. "More asking than answering. Don't suppose I could borrow your map?"

"Of course. I am surprised the inspector did not bring one."

"Afraid of sharing too much knowledge. Kind of the opposite of what you're doing."

"Oh. Thank you." Her cheeks pinked up, making her even prettier than before.

"Thank you." He saluted her with the rolled map, then galloped back to church. The inspector didn't look too happy about Will's contribution. And the men weren't happy about the distance.

"How far is it?"

"One finger's width to the Omahas. Eight finger widths to Indian Territory."

"Long way."

"We will not be able to come back."

"That is just to the line. What if the Indian Office puts us down here by Texas?"

"Texas. They have no rain. Plants with needles. Cattle with horns that go out." Crazy Bear stretched his arms wide.

White Eagle said, "I want to see the paper saying we must move to Indian Territory."

"Why? You can't read it." Kemble raised his voice. "Sit down. I have more instructions." He turned to James. "I told you I only wanted to meet with the chiefs."

The Indian Office didn't want chiefs. And they didn't want white farmers. They wanted puppets who would follow instructions and not ask messy questions.

"Order!" James pounded the pulpit and yelled over the hubbub. "Sit down."

"They don't have hereditary chiefs anymore," Henry told Kemble, neglecting to mention the government's role in breaking down that tradition. "Each family head has a say."

"Think of it like Congress," Will told him.

The inspector's jaw clenched. His lower lip jutted out like the prow of a steamboat. "This is nothing like Congress." The inspector's tone said Will spouted foolishness.

If pressed, Will would have to admit he'd never been to Was.h.i.+ngton City, never seen Congress. But he had seen the city of Omaha's officials in action, throwing chairs and insults with eager abandon. So it seemed to him this Ponca meeting was more than civilized.

"All right." Kemble pointed at the men. "Choose ten of your chiefs or heads of families or whatever you call them. We'll take ten of you to Indian Territory so you can see for yourselves. Then we'll go to the Great White Father to talk it over. If you don't like Indian Territory, you can stay here."

Voices rose, most asking why they would even consider leaving.

"Enough! We're done here." Inspector Kemble s.n.a.t.c.hed up his map, then reached for the US one.

Will caught his arm. "That's not yours."

"I'll put it away, for safekeeping." Meaning no one would ever see it again.