Edge of the Wilderness

Twenty


For the LORD your God is God of gods, and Lord of lords. . . . He doth execute the judgment of the fatherless and widow, and loveth the stranger, in giving him food and raiment. Love ye therefore the stranger.

—Deuteronomy 10:17–19

With the release of the white stallion, something inside Daniel Two Stars had broken free. The same longings were still there deep inside him, and yet when he indulged in a cursory look at the old journal he realized that bitterness had mellowed into regret. Gradually he was able to channel his restless energy into a need to help as many wanderers as he could.

More than a hundred scouts were left in Minnesota to help the army stand against the hostile Sioux on the frontier. While Daniel, Robert, and Big Amos stayed at Fort Ridgely, the rest were sent out to make nearly a dozen separate camps all along the frontier at places like Cheyenne River, Twin Lakes, and Bone Hill, so named because of a three-foot ring of buffalo bones found atop a hill. All through the winter of 1863 and into 1864, these scouts chased hostile Sioux and rounded up peaceful wanderers. By early in 1864, they had killed a few hostiles and collected more than a hundred innocents who were taken to Fort Snelling until arrangements could be made in the spring to transfer them to Crow Creek Reservation.

And so it was that Daniel, Robert, and Big Amos were about to break up their camp on the banks of Lake Hanaska one frozen morning early in 1864 when movement along the snow-dusted horizon caught Daniel’s attention. He did not stand up, but motioned silently to his two friends, who turned around and faced the horizon, squinting to make out what it might be. Before long, Big Amos, whose eyesight was sharper than his friends’, grunted and said under his breath, “Six ponies. Travois.” All three men relaxed. Warriors did not travel with such encumbrances.

Daniel and Big Amos stayed behind to guard the campsite while Robert crept noiselessly across the landscape to learn what he could about the travelers.

While Robert was gone, Daniel and Big Amos rounded up their horses and led them behind a row of evergreen trees.

Robert’s voice was charged with emotion when he came back. “They ran away from Crow Creek,” he said. “I don’t know how they made it this far. They have been surviving on the roots they could dig out of the frozen ground.” He paused, choking back tears. “These are the worst we’ve found so far.”

“How many?” Daniel wanted to know.

“Half a dozen,” Robert said. “Two men. Ironheart and Singer. They lost at least four on the way here.”

Daniel swung into the saddle. “Let’s bring them to camp,” he said. He reached into his saddlebag and tossed a small sack onto the ground beside the fire. “If we boil that salt pork in water and add what you two have, we can probably come up with enough soup for at least half a meal. More than they are accustomed to, anyway.” He looked at Robert. “What do you think of keeping them here overnight?”

“It’s a good idea,” Robert said quickly. “They could use some rest before we take them in.” He motioned to the thick line of evergreens. “If it snows, we’re in a good spot.” He grinned. “Maybe we’ll have an excuse to try fishing.” He put his hand on his friend’s knee. “It’s not going to be easy convincing them. The one called Ironheart is a leading man. They’ve heard about the band camping at Faribault. Ironheart says they will keep going until they get there.” He shook his head. “That’s at least five more days away. I doubt they’ll make it.”

“We’ll think of something.”

Robert said quietly, “Ironheart is adamant that he’s not going to put himself under the control of any more military men or agents.”

Daniel bowed his head for a brief second, then picked up his horse’s reins. “I’ll bring them in,” he said, and headed out to meet the group of wanderers.



When Daniel dismounted and approached Ironheart, an old woman nearly hidden within the folds of a faded blanket ran up to him. Lifting her hands to the sky, she began to call Daniel’s name and cry. She reached up to pat his face with her gnarled hands, then took his hands in hers and kissed them.

Hardship and starvation had changed her so that he would never have recognized Mother Friend if she hadn’t spoken up. Daniel grasped her bony shoulders and smiled at her like a son looking at his own mother. Rage flickered inside him when he saw the ravages of Crow Creek in the woman’s face, but he channeled the energy into affection and hugged her fiercely before lifting her into his saddle. Turning to the rest of the group, he waved them after him. “We are making soup for you.” He pointed to the low bank of dark clouds racing toward them. “We are in a good spot to weather that storm. Come. Make camp beside us.” He squeezed Mother Friend’s hand. “Soon you will be sitting beside a warm fire, Mother Friend. And then I want to know everything.”

Six of them crowded into the tent, sitting shoulder to shoulder, no longer shivering, watching as Big Amos sliced every fragment of meat the scouts had into a pot of boiling water. While Big Amos cooked, Ironheart told the scouts why they had left Crow Creek and what they hoped to do.

“We cannot return to that place,” he said quietly but firmly. He motioned around him. “These people helped the whites. For this they are hated by the Sioux who fight in the West. For this they will be killed if Little Crow can accomplish it.”

“Little Crow is dead,” Robert said.

Ironheart raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I thought it was only a rumor.”

“It’s true,” Robert said with conviction.

Ironheart shrugged. “So there is one less warrior who wants to kill us. We still are not safe at Crow Creek” The others nodded their assent.

“We will take you to Fort Ridgely,” Robert promised. “No more hunger. No more shivering in the cold. You will be treated well. In the spring, the soldiers will probably transfer you to Fort Snelling with the rest of the”—he hesitated—“with the rest of the prisoners.”

Ironheart shook his head. “They said we would be free on the reservation. We were not free.” He held up his arm and pulled up his sleeve to reveal sagging flesh. “We were prisoners of our own hunger. We were prisoners of sickness. There was no doctor. We were prisoners of death, watching our children die, able to do nothing.” He looked at Robert as he said firmly, “We will be prisoners no longer. We will die as free men, on the land God gave to us.”

As Daniel listened to Ironheart insisting that they would live on their old lands, he thought of Jeb Grant saying, I never learned to be afraid of Indians. I hope it don’t get me killed.

Big Amos lifted the pot of thin gruel off the fire and set it aside. The three scouts contributed their tin cups for dishes, and while the starving Dakota shared the pathetic meal, an impossible possibility began to form in Daniel’s mind. It had barely taken shape when Mother Friend smacked her lips with appreciation and, looking at Daniel with a big smile said, “Our white friends have gone on to Fort Ridgely. They will be glad to see you, Daniel Two Stars.” She patted his arm affectionately. “We all thought you were dead.”

At Daniel’s questioning look, Mother Friend parted her lips in a toothless grin. “Many Words has a new name. He is Helping Words now. He was with us at Crow Creek. And one we called Silver Fox. Mrs. Dane’s brother.” She swept her hand over her head. “He has long white hair.” Mother Friend made a chopping motion with her right hand, pretending to cut off her left. “And only one hand.” She drew a question mark in the air with her finger. “A metal hook for this hand.” She sighed and shook her head. “Helping Words is sick.”

Ironheart interrupted. “We sent them to Fort Ridgely.” He looked at Daniel carefully. “They promised not to tell the soldiers about us.”

Daniel scooted toward the tent door. Mumbling something about checking to see if a storm was brewing, he lunged outside. Inhaling deeply, he stood up and began to pace back and forth across the entryway.

Robert joined him. He nodded toward the horizon.

When Daniel followed his gaze, his heart sank. “Do you think we can make it back before it hits?”

“Not a chance,” Robert said. “I’m going to bring the horses around and tether them closer to the tent.” He headed off. Daniel followed him, grateful they had pitched the tepee-sized tent up against a low ridge. Whatever was coming, they would be ready. Except for food. But they could live off horseflesh if they had to.

He cast a glance in the direction of Fort Ridgely before ducking back into the tent. Mother Friend was asleep, her head resting on one of his saddlebags. He pulled a blanket across her and sat down, listening to the stamping of the horses’ feet as they huddled just outside the tent wall. He didn’t need to look outside to know that by morning the landscape would be covered with a fresh layer of snow. He only wondered how long the storm would last and if Mother Friend knew any more about Simon Dane than she was telling him. Looking behind him at the old woman’s sleeping form, he realized he would have to wait. It was probably for the best, he thought. Waiting would give him time to think. Time to plan. Time to convince Big Amos and Robert that perhaps this group of wanderers should be helped in a different way.

Daniel prayed. For Simon Dane. For Blue Eyes. For himself. For every individual inside the tent. And for Jeb Grant, who had no idea what he was about to be asked to do.



“You want me to what?” Jeb Grant didn’t shout, but Daniel saw disbelief in his eyes as the little man scratched his scraggly day-old beard and stared up at him. He looked around Daniel and toward his barn where the sorriest group of Indians he had ever seen sat with Big Amos and Robert Lawrence.

“They are only six,” Daniel coaxed. “Ironheart—the one on the spotted pony—is a leading man. You will like him. All together, they will take up only a tiny corner of your land.” His voice was cool, convincing, as he added, “They can help you with the farm. No one around here will mind if you hire a few old Sioux to do some of your chores.”

Jeb snorted. “Indians don’t know a thing about farming. They hate it. I heard the braves think it’s worse than death to do that kind of work.”

Daniel nodded. “But some are changing. Ironheart set the example for his men last year. He works hard.”

Jeb peered doubtfully at the gray-haired man sitting on the spotted pony. “Don’t seem possible.”

“We could build them a cabin,” Daniel argued. “A cabin and a tepee. And if they work for you, if they live quietly—and they will—they might be allowed to stay. There is a similar arrangement with a man in Faribault—”

“I heard about that,” Jeb said quickly. “But them Indians is family to the farmer’s wife. She’s a half-breed. That’s different.” He frowned up ‘at Daniel. “What do you mean if we build them a cabin? Who’s we?”

“Robert. Big Amos. Me.”

Jeb laughed. “What do you know about building a cabin?”

Daniel looked past Jeb. “We built the one you live in.”

“You what?”

“We built it. Robert and me.” Daniel lowered his voice and leaned closer. “Before the outbreak this was Robert and Nancy Lawrence’s home.” He nodded up to the ridge where a pile of charred logs was silhouetted against the sky. “That was mine.”

Jeb inhaled sharply. “I took over your place?”

Daniel nodded.

Jeb flushed with embarrassment. “Look here, Two Stars—nobody ever told me—I didn’t mean—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Daniel interrupted him. He cleared his throat and gestured around him. “This will never belong to us again. We know that. I never would have said anything, except—”

“Except my knowin’ now might make me feel like I owe you,” Jeb said half angrily.

“Jeb,” a strident female voice called from the house.

“Marjorie’s not well,” Jeb said quickly. “I can’t be putting this on her.” He turned to go. Hesitating, he said, “Look, Two Stars, you’re a good man. I know that. Your friends can stay the night. But I can’t—” When Marjorie called Jeb’s name again, Daniel heard fear in her voice. He frowned. Telling himself he shouldn’t, he followed Jeb to the door.

“I’m here, darlin’,” Jeb said gently. He was leaning over the bed in the corner.

Daniel couldn’t see anything, but he heard enough to know that Marjorie was expecting a baby and things were not going well. He hurried away from the cabin toward the waiting Indians.

“We can stay the night,” he said to them. “We’ll use his barn.” He went to Mother Friend. “His wife—” He looked down, embarrassed.

Mother Friend headed for the cabin. She disappeared inside, only to reappear, waving Daniel toward her. “Get me fresh water.”

She ordered Jeb to light a lamp and fire up the stove, then turned back to Daniel, motioning toward the well with both hands. “Hurry!”

If Daniel expected to see Jeb chase the old woman away, he was surprised. Relief spread over the man’s face as he headed for the door to fulfill Mother Friend’s demand for a roaring fire in both the fireplace and the stove.



As Jeb Grant had feared, his wife, Marjorie, did not give birth to a healthy child. She gave birth to two. And she did not die. Instead, she slept for nearly two days and then woke to sit up in bed and feed her two tiny but remarkably healthy infants who had been taught to nurse on a twisted piece of cloth repeatedly dipped into warm goat’s milk by Mother Friend and another old woman named Standing Tall. Between the two of them, the women kept the twin boys contented and warm until Marjorie was ready to feed them herself.

Big Amos brought the news down from the house to the Indians who had taken up residence in a box stall at the far end of the barn. Resting his forearms on the top of the stall, he grinned. “It seems Mrs. Grant trusts Mother Friend and Standing Tall more than she trusts her own husband with those babies. Mr. Grant says he hopes you can be convinced to stay.”