The Holy Warrior (24 page)

“All right.” He picked up the worn black Bible from the washstand and pulled the chair to Dove’s bedside. “She doesn’t understand much,” he conceded, “but she likes to have me read.”

“The psalmist said, ‘The entrance of thy word giveth light,’ ” Missy responded. Picking up the tray, she turned to leave the room, saying, “Father and Caroline took Sky with them over to Nettleton.” Nettleton was a small village five miles north of Pineville where Dan was attempting to start a new church. Caroline had been going with him for several months twice a week to teach a small group of children Bible stories.

“He been all right?”

“Yes.” She left the room, feeling guilty about her answer, for it was not the truth. While Dove’s health had been a concern, it was her ten-year-old son who had nearly driven them all wild. Rejecting every attempt of friendship they offered him, Sky stubbornly refused to communicate with anyone, speaking only to his mother—in Sioux, of course. He would sit on the floor in her room, his back against the wall, ignoring everyone else. When he was forced to leave her room, he did so sullenly, resentfully.

Asa rushed into the kitchen, out of breath. “Missy, can I have some liver for trotline bait?”

“I guess so, Asa. Are you going to take Sky with you?”

“No! There’ll be enough snakes in the river trying to bite me without taking another one along!” Asa grumbled. “He just stares at me as if he’d like to cut my throat!”

“Asa!” Missy chided him halfheartedly. She knew Asa had tried hard to break through the barrier Sky had erected between them, and that his attempts to make friends with Sky had been a total failure. “Don’t be angry with him, Asa. Right now Sky sees us all as his enemies. But if we show him love, he’ll learn to trust us.”

“Trust us! Why, he hates the air we breathe, Missy! He’ll run off first chance he gets—and I hope Chris has sense enough to let the varmint go!”

Wisely, Missy did not argue with the boy, but she put her arm around him and gave him a hard squeeze. “Never mind, Asa. You’ve tried so hard—and I’m proud of you for it.”

He ducked his head at the praise, then gave her a rough hug.

“Goodness, Asa! Don’t crack my ribs!” She shoved his unruly black hair back from his forehead and smiled. “I’ll help you set the trotline this afternoon. Some blue catfish steaks would be real good for a change—and it’ll be fun.”

“Sure!” he grinned happily, then remembered the harsh words he had spoken earlier, and tried to set things right. “Guess mebbe we can take Sky with us.”

“That’d be fine. Soon as they get back from Nettleton, we’ll go.”

She went to the store and made a few purchases, and when she came home she saw the buggy hitched in front of the house. Inside, she found Chris talking to her father and Caroline. She moved around quietly, putting the groceries away as she listened to them. After a few minutes of general conversation, Chris asked, “How’s the Indian mission over in Nettleton, Dan?”

“Oh, mighty slow! A hard bunch over there! It’ll take a move of God to get them stirred.” He sipped his cold cider. “Like plowing new ground, Chris—except for Caroline’s
work with the children. That’s going better than the rest of it put together.”

“You always could handle children better than anyone else, Caroline.”

Chris’s compliment brought a faint touch of color to her cheeks, and Caroline said quickly, “Oh, they’re starved for attention, that’s all.” She changed the subject hurriedly. “Sky behaved very well, Chris. He sat still as you please while I told stories. I think he understands more English than he lets on. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s hiding behind his language. It’s as though he thinks as long as he doesn’t have to talk to us, we can’t get close to him.” She smiled and added, “But I may have found a way to get him to talk. I’ve been asking him how to say things in his language. It seems to please him for some reason—and I like it, too.”

“Not many Sioux here for you to use it on,” Chris grinned at her. “Just me and Dove and Sky.”

Caroline went on. “I’ve been thinking that someday—” She broke off. “Oh, it’s just a thought.”

Missy caught her father’s sharp glance at Caroline, and both of them knew that it was not what her older sister had intended to say. “I’m going out with Asa to set the lines. Would you see to Dove, Caroline?”

Caroline agreed at once, and Chris spoke up. “Reckon you and Asa could use some help? Been a long time since I pulled a monster cat off a hook.”

“Why—of course.” Missy had not been alone with him since he had brought Sky and Dove back, and she would have refused, but could think of no way to do it gracefully. “Asa will like that very much.”

The deep hole in the river was six miles upstream, and it was after five before they got there and tied their horses to saplings. Asa had begged for a boat, and Dan had traded some blacksmith work for a ten-foot dugout that was just right for running lines. Asa kept it well concealed in a cutback, under a canopy of vines and willows. By the time the four of them
reached the place, Asa was jumping with excitement. “Let’s go bait up before it gets dark, Chris!” he cried, running back to where Chris had begun to make a small fire. Chris had gathered a few sticks of firewood and was lighting it with some black powder and his flint and steel. He struck a spark, and the powder caught with a puff of smoke, and the punk he’d put under it began to glow.

“That’s fine, Chris,” Missy told him. “You go with the boys and bait up. I’ll build the fire, and we’ll have some supper when you get back.”

“All right,” he agreed and left.

Missy was glad to see that for once Sky was alert, his eyes bright and happy as he got into the dugout. She quickly gathered some wood, built the fire up, then walked along the riverbank, enjoying the cool air beneath the large water oaks.

The sun dropped behind the tree line, turning the river to molten gold, and she went back to the campsite and put the coffeepot on. By the time the coffee brewed, the darkness had closed in, and the stars reflected their glittering lights in the river. Soon she saw the dugout come up the river and pull into the bank.

“Coffee’s ready,” she called. “How about some bacon and eggs?”

“Hey, that sounds good!” Asa exclaimed, and he carried on a running conversation with Chris as she cooked the meal. When it was done, they sat around the fire, eating hungrily. “Wonder why stuff tastes better when you’re camping out?” Asa wondered aloud. Without waiting for an answer, he began urging Chris to tell a story about the mountains. Missy leaned against a tree, sipping a cup of strong black coffee and listening to him spin out a tale of an improbable bear hunt. The night’s shadows played against the light of the fire, and she noticed how full Asa’s face was, and how lean and hollow the other two seemed. Sky had the same thin nose and high-cheeked face as Chris, and as he sat back in the shadows Missy saw that he was studying his father’s face covertly.
Neither did she miss the puzzled gleam in his dark eyes as if there was something he could not understand, and from time to time he would duck his head and stare into the fire.

It was only a little after eight when Asa suggested, “Let’s go run the lines.”

“Too soon,” Chris told him. “Those big fellows won’t be stirring until midnight when the water cools off. You’ll just scare them off if you go pulling the baits up.”

But Asa was impatient, and begged, “Let Sky and me go, Chris. We can re-bait the hooks—and maybe we’ll get one big enough to fry up.”

“Well—I guess it’s all right, seein’ as you can’t sit still,” Chris decided. He said something to Sky, and the boy got up at once and followed Asa to the boat. As they moved down the river to the lines, the sound of Asa’s voice came floating back on the still air, and then the silence of the night closed in again, broken only by the cry of a distant screech owl.

Missy was uncomfortable. There was nothing she could say that would not rake up old memories, so they sat there in silence, watching the glittering track of the river as the reflection of the stars was broken into flakes of light. Finally Chris spoke. “I’m glad Dove’s better. It’s been a weight on me, Missy, having to ask you and Caroline to take care of her.” He waited for an answer, but none came, and he went back to staring into the fire.

When he could stand the silence no longer, Chris got up and walked to the riverbank, making a tall shape against the sky as he stood there. Missy forced herself to turn away, not giving into the impulse to follow him, to throw herself into his arms.
But... I know he loves me!
her heart cried out. She sat with her back to the fire, staring into the dark shapes of trees that blotted out the sky; then, because it was so dark and because Chris could not see her, she bent her head and the hot tears ran down her cheeks. When at last she looked up, she saw that he had not moved. Taking a deep breath,
she thought,
Now I’ve cried for us. Lord, let me never weep again. Thy will be done!

Sky and Asa brought back a large bullhead weighing over twenty pounds. It was obvious Asa had enjoyed himself, but both Missy and Chris said little after the trip. He spent most of his time with Dove and Sky, and she found excuses to be away from the house a great deal. On Friday, Dove was strong enough to walk to the buggy, and it was a relief to see them leave.

Caroline had surprised them all by announcing that she would go help Dove for a few days. Watching the buggy disappear, Dan said to Missy, “I’m glad Caroline went to help out for a spell—and I’m glad you didn’t.” He said no more for a while, but he was concerned about his younger daughter. She had lost weight and there was a soberness in her manner that bothered him.
Have to keep her busy,
he thought. Then breaking the silence, he went on. “I’ve got a notion about your sister.”

“What?”

He rubbed his chin and shrugged. “Just a notion. She’s been getting Sky and Dove to teach her Sioux. Wouldn’t be surprised if she’s thinking about doing mission work among the Indians sooner or later.”

Missy considered the idea. “Perhaps. Caroline did mention the American Board of Missions in Boston. She’s been getting some letters from them, and she’s written some, too.” She looked at her father and asked, “What would you say if she went?”

“I don’t know,” Dan answered thoughtfully. “She’s a strange girl, Missy. Nothing really seems to interest her ’cept church things. You know, I’ve had a thought or two myself about mission work—especially since Chris came and told me about the way things are.”

“You’d think of going to the Indians?”

“Oh no, I don’t think so. It’s no life for you and Asa, though it’s a work that’ll have to be done, Missy. But God help those who go first. Not all of them will die in bed.”

She patted his arm. “You’d go to the moon to preach if there were any way to get there!” She smiled briefly. “I wonder how Chris and his family are doing—I’m worried about them. You haven’t heard how the church took to Dove and Sky, have you?”

Dan decided not to worry her further, although he had heard rumors. “They’ll come around,” he promised.

For the next month, Caroline came and went, spending more time with Dove than she did at home. She gave glowing reports of how well Dove was feeling, and was proud of the progress she herself was making in language study; but she said little about how the congregation had responded to their pastor’s family. It was obvious to both Dan and Missy that things weren’t good.

Three weeks after she went home, Dove was well enough to go to church. Dan was edgy, and surprised Missy by saying, “I asked Brother Evans to preach the sermon tomorrow morning. I’m going over to Pineville for the service. Maybe you’d like to come along.”

“No, I’ll stay here. I’ve promised my class a little tea after service. You can tell me about it when you get back.”

He left early the next morning. At church, Missy listened as Brother Mott Evans, one of the deacons, struggled through a sermon on the beast and the false prophet in Revelation. There was to be no night service, so she read some of
Pilgrim’s Progress,
though she practically knew it by heart. Later she went for a ride on Thunder. She had just put the stallion out to pasture and started back to the house when she saw her father coming down the road. He was driving at a fast clip, sending clouds of dust boiling over the road behind him; and
when he got to the house, he slammed the brakes and called “Whoa! Blast you!” in an angry voice.