Edge of the Wilderness

Edge of the Wilderness - By Stephanie Grace Whitson


Prologue


My soul is weary of my life.

—Job 10:1

MANKATO, MINNESOTA, FEBRUARY 1863

He had bent his back against the winter wind and slumped over his pony’s neck, trusting the animal to take him to safety in the midst of a blizzard. He had huddled in a muddy niche high above an iced-over creek while sleet pelted the countryside. But never, in his almost twenty winters of life, could Daniel Two Stars remember cold like this. It seeped through his blanket, penetrated his skin, and left him stiff like the ancient man he had begun to hope he would never live long enough to become. The only good thing in it was that when he was awake, the cold numbed even his thoughts. The effort to survive kept him from roaming through the past collecting bitter memories.

The man shackled to him was his friend. Both in body and mind he was the strongest man Daniel Two Stars had ever known. But since the beginning of the new year the whites called 1863, even Robert Lawrence, formerly known as the merciless warrior Little Buffalo, had given up encouraging those around him. He had become like the rest of the prisoners, crowding around pathetic fires every morning until their day’s supply of wood was gone, shivering through the afternoons and evenings. The only relief came when the guards passed out bug-ridden bread and gruel made with half-rotten meat declared unfit for soldiers. But the half-starved Dakota shoved it into their mouths with trembling fingers, hoping it would stay down, not really surprised if it didn’t.

They were in prison because of something begun by a half-dozen braves six moons ago. An argument over a few stolen eggs ended in war, with hundreds of Dakota taking vengeance against the whites encroaching on their traditional way of life. No one knew how many had died, but everyone knew stories of atrocities. No one cared if all the stories were true or not. Everyone in power wanted the Indians gone from Minnesota. Many wanted them all dead.

Daniel Two Stars was among the dozens of Dakota men who had refused to fight. A recent convert to Christianity, he did what he could to protect his family and his missionary friends. He managed to avoid disaster—until he made the mistake of trusting the army. Leaving the girl he loved and the children she cared for safe at Fort Ridgely, Daniel had returned north to the Dakota camp planning to interpret for his Dakota friends who did not speak English and the army commission conducting trials. What he did not know was that the army of the Great Father in Washington had redefined justice. Those in power had decided that every Indian was guilty—unless proven innocent.

The irony of his rescue still made Daniel smile a little. While everyone expressed their outrage at the way captive women had been treated, one of those captive women—a spinster missionary—strode up and defended him. “Captain,” Miss Jane Williams had said, putting her hand on Daniel’s shoulder, “if you harm this man I will shoot you myself!”

Thanks to Miss Jane’s testimony, Daniel was declared innocent of any crimes. Again, he stayed to help his friends. But then the missionaries all left to untangle their own devastated lives. Daniel Two Stars’s identity was confused with another man named Rising Star. Based on eyewitness reports about Rising Star’s crimes, Daniel was forced into prison along with the guilty. Initially he protested. “I know Rising Star. I saw him ride out of camp with Little Crow and the rest of his warriors. He is gone from here.” He gave up protesting when an irate soldier named Brady Jensen nearly broke his jaw with the butt of his rifle.

After the trials concluded, the Dakota were divided into two groups. Hundreds of women and children and old men were sent, upriver to Fort Snelling. Guilty of nothing, they were still sentenced to life inside a stockade until the powerful could decide what to do with them. Three hundred “guilty” Dakota men were driven like cattle through the streets of New Ulm, a town twice attacked by Little Crow and his hostile warriors during the uprising. White people came out to meet them, raising clenched fists in the air as they screamed for vengeance. Daniel kept his eyes on the road, trying not to hear the words as the throng raged, “Exterminate them!” “Savages!” “Murderers!” He was nearly knocked unconscious when a woman screaming, “They killed my family, they killed my family!” hurled a brick at him.

And yet, as hopeless as things seemed, Daniel found reason to hope. When he was hit by the brick, the man who helped him up was Robert Lawrence—Robert, who had been wounded at the very beginning of the outbreak, whom Daniel had rescued from one of the burning agency buildings and sent north along with his family to Standing Buffalo’s peaceful people. Daniel had wondered if his friend had survived or died of the gaping wound in his belly. Robert Lawrence was a true Christian and a leader among the peaceful Dakota. His sudden reappearance in Daniel’s life buoyed both men’s hopes.

And so, when they finally arrived at Mankato and were crowded into a hastily built prison just west of the city, Daniel joined Robert in praying for deliverance. They were among 303 men sentenced to die by the military court. But the Great Father in Washington had mercy. He delayed the impending execution and demanded evidence to review the cases. Throughout the fall of 1862 Daniel and his fellow prisoners waited while President Lincoln reviewed each case. When he was finished, the Great Emancipator reduced the number to be executed to forty. Daniel and Robert prayed for patience. They prayed for endurance. They prayed for their missionaries to come back to them.

On December 4 of 1862, four months after the uprising, a mob from Mankato threatened to overrun the camp and take justice into their own hands. The prisoners were moved out of tents to a more secure setting inside a low log building positioned on a huge vacant lot that sat between two houses in town. Unable to stand upright along the walls, the men huddled around fires or crouched shivering against the walls under the constant vigilance of three or sometimes four soldiers stationed through the middle of the building. Sickened by the smell of rotten food, unwashed bodies, and illness, the men began to lose heart.

The week before Christmas Daniel and Robert said little. A gallows was being constructed within eyesight of the prison. The pounding of hammers and nails and the scent of fresh-sawn wood filled the air. The forty condemned men were taken away to spend time with missionaries from various denominations. Daniel heard the guards say all but two accepted Christian baptism.

“All I can say,” Brady Jensen said when another soldier told him, “is if I see one of them strolling down them golden streets, there’s going to be murder in heaven.”

On the day of the executions, Daniel and Robert stood shoulder to shoulder, peering through a crevice in the log walls at the gallows. When the military drums pounded out the impending order to cut the rope holding the trapdoors shut beneath the men’s feet, Daniel looked away. He leaned his forehead against the rough log wall, wishing he could not hear the crash as those floors dropped away, the odd sigh that went up from the crowd of onlookers. Inside the prison it was deathly quiet for a long while.

Finally Daniel whispered hoarsely, “Do you think they really believed in Jesus? Or were they just agreeing that the white man’s God was more powerful than theirs?”

Robert sighed and shook his head. He looked at his young friend. “We will know when we get to that next place and see who is there.”

They learned how to accommodate the shackles that joined them together at the ankles so they could slide down the log wall of the prison building and sit without causing cramps in their legs. They did so now. Feeling suddenly cold, both men pulled their worn blankets over their heads. Clouds of moisture rose from the opening in his blanket when Daniel asked, “Now that they have had their revenge, do you think they will let the rest of us go?”

Robert grunted. “We can only pray so, my friend.”

Daniel closed his eyes to squeeze back the tears that welled up. He fought the lump rising in his throat. Robert was beginning to doubt. So was he. He was beginning to think they would never be free again.



He wasn’t ready. She was walking toward him down the path, and he almost panicked. He shouldn’t be here. Not now. Not yet. He glanced down at the greasy spots dribbling down the front of his shirt, the filth splashed across his thighs. He brushed his hand through his matted black hair. It had grown long these past few months. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been near enough water to think about washing it. He looked horrible. He smelled worse. He had to get away. She must not see him like this. But he couldn’t move.

How, he wondered, had she managed to find him? Did she know that just the sight of her made him catch his breath? He thought the white antelope-skin dress she wore had been ruined in a fire long ago. She must have found a way to repair it. The fringe down the sides and around the hem of the simple dress swayed when she walked, brushing against her soft skin. He knew the feel of that skin. Just thinking about it made his whole body grow taut with emotion. She hadn’t braided her hair. Did she know how he loved it when she let it hang down her back that way, a gleaming, flowing stream of dark silk?

She couldn’t see him. Not like this. Not when he looked and smelled like some wild animal. He couldn’t let her see him until he could take her in his arms and tell her that the time they’d been apart meant nothing . . . that, just as he had told her on the day he said good-bye, her blue eyes had followed him everywhere, given him hope to live another day.

Why was it so difficult to move? He needed to get away—to get ready—but it was too late. She saw him. He grabbed a hank of matted hair and tried to push it behind his shoulders in a vain attempt to look more acceptable. She stood still for a moment, and then those eyes—those blue eyes that had been with him since the only time he had kissed her long ago—blinked and widened with recognition. The full mouth parted in a smile so beautiful it made him ache with longing. Her eyes filled with tears and she ran to him, threw herself at him, oblivious to all the things that had made him want to run away.

He wanted to bury his face in the river of her dark hair and whisper what he had learned in all the months they had been apart. But something was wrong. He clenched his jaws in an effort to make his arms wrap themselves around her. But he could not move. The words he had practiced for months died before reaching his lips. He heard something—something odd. His head filled with words, pounding against his temples, wanting to get out. The pressure inside his head was infuriating. She was murmuring words of love, touching his face, her gentle fingers stroking his hairline.

Something cold pressed against the place Blue Eyes had just touched.

Two Stars woke to the sound of someone cocking a pistol very near his head. He could feel the cold end of the barrel pressing against his temple. He opened his eyes. He was lying on his back staring up at the sod-covered roof of the prison building.

“Someone wants to talk to you,” the soldier grunted. He waved his gun at Robert Lawrence. “And you. Let’s go.” Two Stars sat up, blinking stupidly as a shaft of bright light streamed in through the doorway. Next to him Robert Lawrence sat up. They looked at each other, frowning.

From where they sat, Daniel and Robert could see the soldier waiting at the door. He wore knee-high brown leather boots with metal tacked over the toes. Dirty blond hair, spilled out of his felt hat and over the collar of his blue jacket. Private Brady Jensen. He had been one of the guards assigned to the Dakota prison since its creation, and he made no attempt to hide his feelings about Indians. Jensen used his steel-toed boots to stomp rats and to kick Dakota prisoners out of his way with equal relish. Waking a slumbering Dakota warrior by pressing a gun barrel to his temple would give Jensen a new anecdote for the mess hall tonight. Daniel was glad he hadn’t shown any sign of fear. He hadn’t really been afraid for a long time now. He almost wished Jensen would have pulled the trigger and sent him back to the dream where he could hold Blue Eyes in an eternal embrace.

Fresh snow had added a layer of pristine white atop the frozen sludge surrounding the prison building. Two Stars and Robert struggled for a few feet before adopting the strange hobbling gait that enabled them to follow Jensen through the snow in spite of the irons holding their ankles together. Each man bent down and scooped up a handful of snow. After taking a mouthful, Daniel swiped his face with the rest of it in an attempt to shake off the last vestiges of his dream about Blue Eyes. Snow was filling his moccasins, numbing his ankles and feet.

To the men’s surprise, Jensen was leading them to the gate. Two Stars had not spoken English in weeks, and he made little effort now to understand what was being said when Jensen talked to the guard at the gate. Whatever was happening probably meant nothing good for either he or Robert. He glanced behind him at the fenced compound, squinting his eyes and trying to imagine winter camp. The wind shifted and blew the smell of the place at him. He looked down and saw the snow blow away from the faces of two more bodies stacked next to the gate. Any imaginings about winter camp disappeared.

Jensen shoved him ahead, pointing to a two-story stone building just across the street from the prison lot. The men were welcomed inside by a blast of warm air. Someone had fired up a small stove in the center of the large, nearly bare room. Whatever happened, Daniel hoped he would be here long enough to get next to the stove. He had almost forgotten what it was like to be warm.

Three other Dakota men were sitting on the floor near the stove. Jensen stepped back outside without a word. Daniel and Robert hobbled over and sat next to a half-starved brave about Daniel’s age. To the question in Daniel’s eyes, the brave only shrugged.

Voices sounded at the door. Jensen swore loudly. “You can’t be serious! Whose idea was that?!”

When he saw, who Jensen was yelling at, Daniel nudged Robert. “I thought he died up at Fort Snelling.”

“Rumors,” Robert whispered back. “We know nothing except rumors.” His voice trembled with emotion as he looked toward Sacred Lodge.

Sacred Lodge crossed the room toward them. He paused and put his hand on Robert’s shoulder. “It is good to see my old friend is well,” he said, shaking Robert’s hand. He nodded at Daniel. “I was glad to know you were not hanged. They had your name on the list.” Daniel felt a chill go through him as Sacred Lodge turned away without waiting for his reply.

Walking to the center of the half-circle where the men sat waiting, the brave began to speak. He was middle-aged, lean but powerfully built, and he spoke with the quiet confidence of a man accustomed to leading, accustomed to being followed. Every man in the room knew the history of this half-breed raised by his full-blooded stepfather. Sacred Lodge could have escaped to the north and avoided all the trouble when the uprising began. Instead, he remained, unifying the peaceful Dakota by organizing a soldiers’ lodge for peace, gathering and protecting white captives in his camp. Because of his extraordinary actions, General Sibley had offered to let Sacred Lodge return to his farm near the now destroyed Lower Agency. But Sacred Lodge would not leave his Dakota brothers. Instead of returning home, he had gone to Fort Snelling, willingly suffering with them. The prisoners at Mankato had been told Sacred Lodge died there. But here he was, dressed in a soldier’s jacket adorned with extra brass buttons, sporting a black hat decorated with feathers.

To Daniel’s surprise, Brady Jensen remained by the door, his arms folded across his chest while Sacred Lodge took charge of the meeting.

Everyone present had heard Sacred Lodge’s voice ring with the proud authority of a Dakota chief, but today his tone was gentle and persuasive. “In the end of the Deer Rutting Moon,” he began, “I went to General Sibley. I had heard that when the weather is warm again, the army will go after the hostiles who have escaped to the north. I was concerned for my peaceful brothers who are still wandering around the country. I told General Sibley that if he would let me, I would choose worthy Dakota men to go out as scouts and convince these friendly Dakota to come in where they will be safe.”

Big Amos tried to say something, but Sacred Lodge motioned for him to be silent as he continued. “I said we would also help the army chase down any hostiles still in this territory. And I told the general that when the warm moons come these scouts could lead him to the camps of the warring Sioux.” He paused, taking time to look into each man’s eyes before continuing. “This seemed good to the general. But he said he must write the Great Father in Washington and ask him about it.” Sacred Lodge smiled. “The Great Father thought it might be all right.”

Daniel felt a surge of emotion. Did Sacred Lodge mean they would be leaving this awful place? He tried not to let the hope rise too high. He glanced at Jensen who had uncrossed his arms and was standing, his fists clenched, his face a mask of disgust.

“The five men I chose pleased General Sibley.” Sacred Lodge paused and looked down at the four men seated around the stove. “But when I learned that you five were here at Mankato, I said that I wished also to take Daniel Two Stars, Robert Lawrence, Big Amos, Spirit Buffalo, and Good Voice Hail with me.”

Jensen snorted loudly and rubbed his nose.

Sacred Lodge continued. “The General asked, ‘Do you think it is a wise thing to take full-blooded Dakota Indians out of prison and turn them loose as scouts so soon after what happened?’”

Daniel bent his legs and hid his face by leaning his forehead onto his knees. Robert shifted his position to accommodate Daniel’s movement, although he chose to look Sacred Lodge in the face.

Big Amos interjected, “The General is such a wise man. He understands that all mixed-bloods are good Indians and all full-bloods are bad.” It was an attempt at humor, but no one laughed.

“When they doubted me,” Sacred Lodge continued quietly, “I told him he should not think of all full-bloods as hostile or all mixed-bloods as good. I said you five men are more steadfast and more to be depended upon than many of the mixed-bloods in the peace camp.”

Daniel looked up at Sacred Lodge as he concluded, “General Sibley listened to me. We have permission to go.”

Big Amos snorted in disbelief. He waved a broad hand in the air. “The general speaks and suddenly Dakota prisoners may take horses and guns and ride away?” Looking at the other four men, he said, “You know what I think? I think they want us to go outside Mankato so they will have an excuse to kill us.”

Sacred Lodge sat down before them. “They aren’t giving us horses or guns here in Mankato. We will ride in wagons that glide over the snow—with soldiers as a guard. Once we have made camp at Rice Creek they will leave us with horses and guns. Then we will be free men, my brothers.”

Daniel heard Jensen swear under his breath. He stomped out the door and shouted for someone to take over guard duty while he went to talk to the commanding officer.

Sacred Lodge repeated, “We will have horses and guns, freedom to hunt—”

“—freedom to hunt our friends,” Big Amos said bluntly. Good Voice interrupted Big Amos. Nodding toward the log prison barely visible through the filthy windows, he said, “Part of what Sacred Lodge says sounds good to me.” He looked up at Sacred Lodge. “I want to be a free man. But I could never bring my peaceful brothers to a place like this.” His voice lowered. “Better they die than come here.”

Sacred Lodge argued gently. “Any peaceful Dakota we find will camp with us until spring. Then all Dakota will be going to a new reservation. Even the ones at Fort Snelling.” He stood up and began to walk slowly around the little circle of men as he spoke. “Our frightened brothers who are still wandering around the country need to hear this good news. There is a place where they will be safe both from soldiers and from the hostile Sioux who hate them for not fighting.”

Good Voice reasoned, “If we help Sibley find the hostiles, perhaps the Great Father in Washington will let us have a home again.”

“You will be able to keep any horses you capture,” Sacred Lodge said quickly. “And guns. And they are sending a cook with us.”

“You mean we won’t have to kill our bread before we eat it?” Big Amos joked.

“You must promise the army to stay for six moons,” Sacred Lodge explained. “They will give you uniforms now. Horses and guns once we reach camp. They will pay seven U.S. dollars a month in wages. And,” he looked at Robert and Big Amos, “the scouts’ families will join them in camp.”

Daniel jerked his head up and looked at Robert. He saw the emotion flashing in his friend’s eyes, and spoke up immediately. “Robert and I will go.”

Good Voice joked, “Daniel and I have no wives. Will they bring us one?”

“When do these come off?” Daniel asked, rattling the chain that joined him and Robert together.

The guard who had replaced Jensen didn’t speak Dakota. Still, he knew what Daniel was asking. Holding up a small brass key he said in English, “If you swear allegiance to the United States, those come off now. Scouts leave at dawn tomorrow.”

Daniel looked up at him, studying the young face, wondering if what sounded like kindness in the yellow-haired man’s voice was real. The soldier met his gaze honestly and pressed his thin lips together in a faint smile. When Daniel and Robert slid their feet across the floor toward him, he knelt, quickly unlocking the shackles. When the other new scouts followed suit, he worked quickly, tossing the shackles in the far corner of the room with obvious relish. He inspected the spot where Good Voice’s ankle had been rubbed raw. “I’ll get the doctor over to look at that before we leave in the morning,” he promised. He smiled at Good Voice. “Can’t have a lame scout.”

“Wait here until I come back,” Sacred Lodge said. The men waited, moving as close to the stove as possible, rubbing their ankles, grunting with satisfaction as they walked about the room, free of chains for the first time in months. Big Amos leaped off the rough board floor and stomped around the room in an exaggerated dance that made the other men laugh under their breath.

Daniel wrinkled his nose as the five men’s unwashed bodies began to warm up and sweat. He looked down at his filthy hands and ran his hand over his matted hair. Glancing toward the blond-haired soldier who was standing near the door sucking in fresh air, he felt ashamed.

Sacred Lodge returned followed by a dozen soldiers carrying stacks of blankets and clothing. They brought in buckets of snow and set them around the stove to melt.

Brady Jensen dropped a half-used bar of lye soap at Daniel’s feet. “See you don’t eat it. It’ll gnaw a hole in your gut.” He stomped off, commenting to the blond-haired soldier about the stupidity of wasting soap on filthy savages. Once the men had washed and donned their outdated army uniforms, their clothing was burned in a bonfire just outside the front door.

That night they ate army rations for supper, stuffing themselves with fresh boiled beef and potatoes and corn bread until their bellies swelled. One by one they staggered away from the stove and fell on their bedrolls with satisfied sighs.

Late in the night, Daniel woke thirsty. He took an empty pail and stepped to the door, asking permission to get more snow. Once back inside he set the bucket on the stove and crouched down, waiting for it to melt. His first taste of the ice-cold water reminded him of a spring bubbling out of the earth near one of his family’s favorite campgrounds. He remembered following the stream of water from its source all the way to a lake they called Singing Waters, then alongside the lake and across the prairie to another creek and thence to Broken Pipe’s trading post. He had visited the trading post often with his friends Otter and Red Thunder, who enjoyed flirting with Genevieve LaCroix, the trader’s beautiful daughter.

The fire was dying again. Daniel looked outside. Snow was falling thicker and faster. Someone inside the log prison across the street was wailing a death song. It had become a familiar sound. Daniel looked toward the door. The guard stationed there was sitting on an upturned barrel, half asleep. Beyond him was the town of Mankato, and beyond Mankato, Fort Ridgely, and beyond that, far to the north, he imagined his friend Otter still living the old way, hunting buffalo, making war against his enemies. Somewhere out there, beyond Mankato and Fort Ridgely, was a beautiful half-Dakota, half-French girl named Genevieve LaCroix, whose dazzling blue eyes had once promised him everything a man could want.

After swallowing another mouthful of icy water, Daniel lay down. Pulling a buffalo robe around his shoulders, he stared into the darkness, wondering if the scouts would eventually revisit the agency and the nearby mission where he had once attended school. Someone had told him all the old mission buildings were gone now, burned to the ground along with the agency that had stood only a few miles from the mission. He wondered if the cabin had been burned down, and smiled at the memory of the strong-willed Miss Jane Williams. He thought about the vine that nearly hid the front of her cabin and the little bird that flitted around the flowers hanging on that vine. They were the color of the setting sun, beautiful against the plain wooden cottage. He remembered standing beneath that vine in the moonlight, with Blue Eyes staring up at him, breathless with emotion.

Try as he would, Daniel could not completely conquer the sense of hope threatening to overtake him. For a long time now, God had not seemed to hear the prayers he and Robert Lawrence prayed daily. But just when he had determined to stop praying, Sacred Lodge had arrived to take them out of prison. Perhaps it was a new beginning. Perhaps, Daniel thought, he would find peace wandering the places that, like him, had once been filled with life, but were now ruined and empty.