Edge of the Wilderness

Twenty-two


Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others.

—Philippians 2:4

Daniel plunged into God’s word. He was not, he told himself, going to sink back into the colorless existence, the solitary hell he had lived in for nearly a year. Somehow, he was going to deal with the reality of Genevieve LaCroix becoming Genevieve Dane. Deal with it and get on with his own life.

But things are different now, his heart argued. She isn’t married yet. If she knew—

But she will never know, he reasoned. I’ll make Simon and Elliot promise not to tell her. She deserves a better life. Meg and Aaron and Hope deserve a mother.

According to Leighton, the children remembered him as a hero. There was a certain comfort in that. It was even appealing. He would do the right thing. By God’s grace, he would choose against himself and do the right thing for Gen and the children.

Love seeketh not her own . . . love looketh not out for itself; but also for the good of others . . . It was right to do what was best for the person you loved. Wasn’t that what Christ had done? He laid down His life for us: and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren.

He could think of no reason beyond his own selfish desire to force himself back into Genevieve’s life. If she had said she would marry Simon, then she had grown beyond whatever they had shared.

As for his feelings about Simon Dane, Daniel could not blame the man for loving Gen, could not blame him for wanting to protect that love and the future. He had seen the glimmer of emotion in Simon’s eyes when they first saw one another. He knew what it meant. Simon had staked a claim, and he didn’t want Daniel to challenge it.

If a man say, I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar. Christians were to be like Christ. He would not fail. Everything in him cried out against letting Gen go. Everything in him yearned for life with her. And yet, he told himself, he would let her go to a better life than he could ever give her, where people lived in houses and had plenty to eat and were surrounded by friends. He would give her to Simon Dane, who loved her. She would be cherished. Knowing that would have to be enough for him.

For two weeks Daniel read Scripture, prayed, and tended Simon for all he was worth. He did it for Gen. And because it was right. He provided fresh meat for Edward Pope’s soup and poured it down Simon’s throat by the quart. When Simon’s cough persisted, he rode up to Jeb Grant’s farm to get Mother Friend, introducing her as the nurse to a white farmer’s children. Up north. “Mother Friend and a few others work for Jeb Grant,” he told Captain Willets. To his credit, Captain Willets never asked where they had come from. He seemed content to assume they were like the group at Faribault, peaceful Indians with connections in the white community who had never been involved in the uprising and were quiet citizens, accepted by their neighbors and therefore allowed to stay put.

Mother Friend’s ablutions once again brought Simon back to a measure of health. He stopped coughing and began to put on weight. Within a week of her arrival, he was haranguing Elliot about heading home. By the end of the second week, he was well enough to conduct a worship service for the scouts’ camp.

“You should start a church,” he urged Robert Lawrence. “The group up at Jeb Grant’s would gladly come to services. You’d have a dozen members.” He looked at Daniel. “And you already have a deacon.”

The weather finally broke late in March. The snow melted and the promise of spring burst from the moist soil, sending a pungent aroma into the air. The horses began shedding their winter coats and the post’s veterinarian sounded the news of two foals making their appearance in the stables just across the road.

Simon and Elliot prepared to leave. The morning they were to go, Daniel and the other scouts gathered to say good-bye. Simon led them all in prayer and then climbed up into the saddle.

Before mounting his own horse, Elliot grasped Daniel’s hand. His blue-gray eyes flickered with emotion as he said, “When Simon and I started this trip, I hated Indians. Hated everything about them. Didn’t want my sister’s children anywhere near them. I said the word Sioux like it was a swear word.” He squeezed Daniel’s hand tighter. “I just want to tell you that after what I’ve seen of Indians, both here and back at Crow Creek, I’m ashamed of myself. Indians being human, I suspect there’s a few cowards and liars among ’em. But all I’ve met are honorable men. And among those honorable men, you are one of the best.” He nearly crushed Daniel’s hand before he released him. Shaking Big Amos’s and Robert’s hands, he mounted and prepared to head out.

Simon leaned down to put his hand on Daniel’s shoulder. The unspoken name passed between the two men. Reaching into the wide blue sash at his waist, Daniel withdrew Etienne LaCroix’s journal. “I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to explain how you got this without mentioning me,” he said, choking back the emotion that clutched at his throat. “But”—he handed the journal up to Simon—“I think you should have it.” Simon opened the book. When he saw the sketches of Gen, his eyes filled with tears.

Daniel pointed to one of the sketches and said, “She will have a good man for a husband. And I think she will have a happy life with him.” Impulsively, he put his hand on Simon’s saddle horn and said, “When you get home, put your arms around your children for me.” He glanced at Elliot to be certain he, too, could hear, and then he stared into Simon’s eyes and said, “And forget you ever saw me.”

And then he walked away.



Gen hated gas lighting. She didn’t trust it, cringed every time she heard the hiss of the gas coming through to light a lamp. And so it was that she sat alone late one night in the Whitneys’ kitchen, bathed in the soft, golden light of a kerosene lamp sitting beside her half-finished letter to Miss Jane. We haven’t heard from the men in weeks, and I am beginning to worry. She paused and sat back, inspecting the nib of her pen. Rubbing her arms briskly, she got up and headed for the stove to heat water for tea.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Simon said, preventing Elliot from knocking at the back door.

“Yes, Simon. She is. Now let’s get you inside where it’s warm.”

Stifling a cough, Simon shook his head. “Wait just a minute.” He drew in a wheezing breath. “We haven’t talked about what Two Stars said—”

Through the window, Elliot saw Gen whirl around and head for the door. “Thank God!” she exclaimed, pulling it open.

Simon would have fallen into the room if Elliot had not braced him up.

Gen put her hand to Simon’s forehead. “You’re burning up.” She glanced at Elliot. “You had him out in this weather like this?”

“Don’t be angry with Elliot,” Simon wheezed, stumbling to the table and falling into a chair. He summoned a smile. “I told him I was coming home to my girls with him or without him.”

Elliot looked over the top of Simon’s head, shaking his head apologetically. “He was adamant.”

“You’re a big boy, Mr. Leighton,” Gen snapped angrily. “I think you could have made him stay put.”

Simon grabbed her hand and pressed it to his cheek. “Not unless he tied me down, dear.” He kissed her hand. “This is all the medicine I need.”

Gen snatched her hand away. Her eyes blazing, she settled her gaze on Elliot. “Dr. Abernathy. Two doors up from the hotel.” She leaned over and put her hand on Simon’s shoulder. “The Whitneys went to St. Louis with Miss Jane, Simon. Do you think you can make it across the hall to their room?”

“St. Louis?” Elliot asked abruptly. “Jane’s gone to St. Louis?”

“Rebecca and Timothy Sutton’s aunt and uncle—” She shook her head. “I’ll explain later. Please, Mr. Leighton. Dr. Abernathy.” She whisked out the door and across the hall. Elliot could hear her moving around in the Whitneys’ quarters.

He put his hand on Simon’s shoulder. “Do you need help getting across the hall?”

Simon shook his head.

After turning back the Whitneys’ bed and building a fire in the tiny fireplace in a corner of the room, Gen found Simon, his head resting on his crossed arms, half laying across the kitchen table, shivering. “Dear Lord,” she whispered, wondering how she was going to get him across the hall and into bed alone.

“Can you—can you walk, Simon?”

He raised his head, bleary-eyed. He didn’t seem to recognize her.

She took his hand and pressed it to her cheek. “Simon,” she said gently. “It’s me. It’s Gen. You’re home. Please, dear. Come to bed.”

Somehow he managed to stand up and wobble across the hall. He collapsed into bed, oblivious to Gen’s gentle hands as she removed his coat and shoes. He was shivering uncontrollably by the time Elliot arrived with Dr. Abernathy.

“I’ll make some tea,” Gen said, backing out of the room as Dr. Abernathy and Elliot began to undress Simon, who was only semiconscious.

“Forget the tea,” the doctor said over his shoulder. “This man needs a good shot of whiskey.”

Gen hesitated. “He won’t want—”

“I said whiskey, woman!” the doctor half shouted. “This is no time for a temperance lecture.”

“I’ll get the whiskey, Miss LaCroix,” Elliot said quickly. “As soon as we get Simon undressed. Don’t worry about it.” He smiled kindly. “But you could probably use some tea. And I know I could. Strong tea.”

Gen nodded and fled to the kitchen, her eyes misting over with tears as she listened to Simon coughing.

In a moment, Elliot came out of the Whitneys’ quarters and headed outside to tend the horses. When he came back, he took a bottle of whiskey in to Dr. Abernathy before returning to the kitchen where he found Gen staring at a half-finished letter on the table.

Elliot made the tea and handed her a cup. “The whiskey helped. He’s resting more quietly.”

“It probably knocked him out cold,” Gen said wearily. “I don’t think he’s ever even tasted whiskey.”

“The doctor is going to stay the night. He said he’ll call if he needs anything.”

Gen cupped her hands around her teacup. She nodded at the half-finished letter. “I was writing Miss Jane.” She looked up at Leighton, a bit surprised at the intensity of his interest. “Rebecca and Timothy Sutton do have family, after all. It turns out they didn’t respond to our efforts to find them because they were in Europe.” She sighed wearily. “They asked Miss Jane to spend some time in St. Louis. To help the children adjust to their new home.”

“So she’ll be away for a while?”

Gen nodded. She watched Leighton’s reaction. He made no effort to hide his disappointment. “Perhaps you could enclose a note in my letter—”

“Yes,” he said and nodded eagerly. “Thank you. I will.”

Dr. Abernathy came in. “I need hot water. I want to make a poultice. See if I can’t break up some of the congestion.”

Elliot went to sit with Simon while Gen helped the doctor. He lay beneath a mountain of quilts, muttering to himself.

When the doctor finally settled back into his chair beside Simon’s bed, he ordered them both out. “Get some rest,” he said. “We’re all going to be worn out before this is over.”

Gen and Elliot lingered in the kitchen. “Please, Mr. Leighton,” Gen said quietly. “Simon’s room is the second door on the left upstairs. Go ahead.” She headed back to the kitchen. “I don’t think I can sleep right now.”

Elliot followed her into the kitchen. “He was insistent, Miss LaCroix. I would never have thought—”

“I—I apologize for accusing you earlier. I shouldn’t have struck out at you that way.” She looked past him and out the window. “I know how he can be.”

“He wouldn’t be dissuaded,” Elliot said. “He said he wasn’t going to let three days on horseback keep him from his girls.”

“Three days?” Gen asked abruptly.

Elliot nodded. “We were at Fort Ridgely.”

“But—why? How?”

They both sat down at the table. Elliot took a deep breath. “First, there’s something I should say.” His blue-gray eyes sought hers and held.

She headed for the stove and poured herself another cup of tea. “It changed your opinion of a few things. About Indians.”

He raised his eyebrows and nodded. “How did you know?”

She set the teakettle down on the table and pointed at his teacup. “The way you’re drinking your tea,” she said.

“What?”

“The first time I poured tea for you, right after you came, I thought it was just an odd habit from being in the army. But then I noticed you only did it when I was the one who served you.”

“What are you talking about?” he mumbled. But he hung his head. He knew.

“You always picked up your napkin and wiped the rim of the cup before you drank anything I handed you. As if my touching it contaminated it somehow.”

Elliot held out his hand to her, palm up. “I wouldn’t blame you if you never forgave me for that.”

Gen slipped her hand into his and squeezed. “Tell me what happened at Crow Creek.” She released his hand and sat down.

For all the long hours while they waited on Dr. Abernathy and took turns sitting with Simon, Elliot told Gen about the weeks at Crow Creek. When he described the flight back to Minnesota with the Dakota he paused abruptly. “I forgot. You know one of them. Mother Friend?” he asked.

Gen gasped with surprise. “Yes, oh yes. Is she all right?”

Elliot nodded. “She tended Simon twice. Once at Crow Creek. Once at the fort. Brought him back from bouts worse than this.” He leaned forward and whispered, “Burned some plant and wafted the smoke around the room . . . then made him drink some of the most disgusting concoctions ever. But it worked.”

Gen nodded. “I remember the ‘stinking weed.’ Every time I sniffled my mother hauled some into the cabin.” Gen wrinkled her nose.

“Well,” Elliot agreed, “all I can say is I hope whiskey and Dr. Abernathy’s powders and quinine do half the good.” He stretched and rubbed the back of his neck. “I want to know about Jane,” Elliot said quietly. “But not tonight.” He stood up. “Can’t I convince you to go upstairs and get some sleep? It will be dawn soon.

Gen shook her head. “I’ll go into the Whitneys’ little parlor and lie down on the couch. I want to stay close.” She smiled up at him. “Thank you, Mr. Leighton, for bringing him home.”

“Elliot. Call me Elliot.” He climbed the stairs, surprised at the weariness that overtook him with each step. When he sank onto Simon’s bed, he sighed with relief.



To his credit, Dr. Abernathy remained at Simon’s bedside for the better part of the next three days, leaving only once for a few hours to attend a female patient’s confinement. He applied hot and cold compresses, administered Dover’s powder and quinine, and once threatened to sit on his patient if Simon did not cooperate and drink the prescribed whiskey.

Elliot Leighton proved to be not only an able nurse, but also a good baby-sitter.

“No, you may not skip school today,” he insisted, saving Gen from an argument with Aaron. “The Leighton men have always been well educated. Your father would not approve.”

“Ouch!” he exclaimed in mock anger when Hope pulled his long silver hair. Then he tickled her until she screamed for mercy.

“Don’t, Unka Lee,” she demanded. Then she tugged on his hair again with a mischievous grin.

“All right,” he said one morning, and showed a curious Meg how his hook attached to his upper arm.

“Sleep,” he insisted late one night, when Gen was completely exhausted. He nodded toward Simon’s room. “His fever has broken. I’ll sit with him.” And he sent her to bed.



Not long after Simon and Elliot left Fort Ridgely, Captain Willets organized a battalion to head west to join General Sully’s 1864 campaign against the Sioux in South Dakota. Daniel Two Stars traveled with them.

Robert had protested when Daniel said he was going. “Reverend Dane said there was talk of asking the government to give us each eighty acres near the old reservation. We might get farms again, Daniel.”

“I hope it happens,” Daniel said. He looked down at the metal cross hanging around his neck. “But I can’t stay here. Too many times I have headed my horse that way.” He nodded northeast, toward St. Anthony. He touched his forehead, “My head knows it would be wrong. My heart still wants her back.”