Through Rushing Water (22 page)
“Russian peasants farm communally. It allows for specialization, sharing skills and tools.”
“Sophia. Could youâ” He shook his head. “I would think you'd be tired after teaching all day.”
She took the hint and continued the walk in silence. Why was he so angry? But asking the question would only exacerbate his temper.
Ahead, three black shapes moved through the underbrush beside the river.
“Turkeys,” Henry whispered. “I wish I'd broughtâ”
Sophia pulled out her pistol, sighted, and squeezed off a round. Two birds took flight. The third flopped to the ground. She pocketed her pistol and walked over to inspect it.
“Howâwhatâ?” He turned whiter than usual. “Madam, you are armed!”
She lifted the carcass by its feet, estimating its weight at around fifteen pounds, and handed it to him. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
Will dashed out of the woods carrying a box. Zlata and her troika followed him. “I heard a shot. You're all right?”
Henry held the bird away from the dogs. “We have a sharpshooter among us.”
“Sophia!” Will whistled.
“My father taught me.” She nodded at Will's box, eager to move the attention away from herself. “Another allotment?”
“No. My sister, Charlotte, collected socks from her students.” Will pulled out a pair. One was gray with white and red on the cuff, the other solid blue. “You know how sometimes you lose one? Or you might have enough yarn for half a sock? They're matched for size and thickness, but not color. About a hundred pairs in here.”
“Enough for each student and their families.” Sophia grinned. Only Henry's presence kept her from embracing Will again. “We have so much to be thankful for.”
W
ill could listen to Sophia talk forever. Finishing a story about her students, she used a Ponca word to make a pun. She glanced up to see if he caught the joke.
Will grinned and kicked the leaves in the path. “You're picking up on the language.”
Her lips pressed together. “I trust you will not mention it to Henry.”
“âCourse not.”
“I have been wondering.” She did a lot of that. “Should there not be more animals here? Even in the cities, I have seen squirrels and raccoons.”
“Used to be deer, beaver, muskrats, weasels, but they've been hunted out. Still a few prairie dogs up on the bluff, but they're about as fit for eating as rats.”
“And another concern. My first morning here I smelled smoke. Someone had set a fire. But I have not smelled it since.”
Will nodded. “Buffalo Track. His wife took him back in. He wouldn't hurt you.”
“Given the enormous changes the Poncas have suffered, the uncertainty of their future, the changing roles, especially of the men, I would expect madness to be more prevalent. Do you thinkâ”
Sophia broke off as her army officer came trotting down the hill on his large gray, leading a saddled chestnut mare. “Howdy, ma'am.”
“Good afternoon, Lt. Higgins.” She had eyes only for the horses. Sophia stretched her hand out and cooed, “Who have we here? What is your name?”
The lieutenant stuck out his chest, as if hoping Sophia would pin a big medal on it, and introduced the mare. “This is Pumpkin. Only on loan for today, I'm afraid. Couldn't find any for you to keep. She's a gentle, steady mount. Good for a lady like yourself.”
The horse looked equally in love with Sophia, twitching her ears to every word. She lowered her head for a scratch, let Sophia lift each leg for a check of her shoes, and allowed her girth to be cinched.
Sophia hurried inside to change clothes while the officer watered his mounts. Will grabbed a mug of coffee and a spot on the porch. She returned quicker than he'd imagined any woman could undress and dress, not that he'd spent much time imagining such.
She wore a top hat, a dark-green riding dress with gold braid, and shiny black boots. She'd brought a stub end of carrot for each of the horses, and she fed them with more murmured words of encouragement.
Then, without waiting for the soldier to put his grubby hands on her, she sprang into the saddle and rode off like a princess on her way to a fox hunt.
What was that dirge about the old gray mare? Sophia tried to remember as this nag's gait threatened to jar her eyeballs from her head. The mare's teeth were worn to a nub; her hooves needed filing and shoes replacing. She had not been curried this decade. And keeping her from wandering off to snatch a bite of vegetation required a firm hand.
The saddle, a rawhide Mexican-style model, had been worn paper-thin, with stitching coming loose and stirrups threatening to break with the slightest weight.
But ah, the joy of riding again!
The lieutenant led her upriver. James and Henry would lecture about her leaving the Agency without permission. Will would not say much, but disapproval would exude from him in the set of his shoulders, the tension in his jaw. The man's body talked for him.
A mile from the Agency all evidence of human occupation vanished. Perhaps now that the Brulé were gone, the Poncas could spread out, make the best use of their land. And what a beautiful country it was! The Missouri, bordered with white chalk bluffs, rolled peacefully to their right. A gray line wavered high over the river. As it came closer, it resolved into migrating waterfowl. “Hurry, hurry,” the geese honked to each other.
Sophia pointed at a smudge underlined by red on the horizon. “What is that?”
“Prairie fire.”
Unbroken dry grass burned with frightening speed. “What ignites it?”
“Dunno. Lightning, Indians. We see them a couple times a week hereabouts. Should stop once we get good snow cover.”
Lt. Higgins had led her a considerable distance, far beyond a courtesy jaunt. Should she be concerned? All her life, her father's reputation had ensured her safety among soldiers. But no longer. Sophia touched her pocket where her pistol rested. She ought to conduct herself in a more circumspect manner.
A dreary thought.
“We shall need to turn back soon,” she said. “I must return to the Agency before dark.”
“I was hoping to show you Fort Randall.” A look of disappointment spread over his face. “All right. Let's go up on the ridge, then, before heading back.”
Sophia led the way on the plodding mare. The view was more than worth the limited pleasure of the officer's company. From that height, the immense prairie spread to all compass points. Golden-brown grass waved in the westerly wind. Who could see such a vista without acknowledging the presence of a gracious and creative God? She vowed once again to try harder to please Him.
Sophia gave the sun a deliberate glance, then reined the mare eastward.
“Perhaps we can ride again another day.” Lt. Higgins tipped his head, leading into his true purpose. “We're having a Christmas ball at the fort. I'd be pleased to escort you.”
It was not the most awkward invitation she had received, but it was certainly far from polished.
“I am so sorry, but the Agency is planning a celebration at the church.” Or they would be, as soon as Sophia returned. “For the children. You are welcome to attend, you and the entire post.”
They rode back along the same path, sending long shadows ahead of them. A hawk spiraled above, searching for supper. Sophia's stomach growled in agreement.
She tightened her knees, leaned forward, and whispered encouragement, but old Pumpkin had no intention of moving any faster than a plod. They arrived at the Agency as the moon rose over the trees.
“Lieutenant, it has been a lovely ride.” Sophia gave the mare a pat for effort, then dismounted before the officer could assist her.
“Hope we can go again sometime.” He stepped forward as if looking for a more physical expression of gratefulness.
Sophia slapped the reins into his hand. “I do so enjoy riding, but perhaps a livelier mount next time.”
“Yeah. You have a good seat. I mean, you ride real good.”
“I did my share of falling off as a child. Good evening, Lieutenant.” Sophia pulled off her gloves, washed in the basin, then entered the kitchen.
“Where have you been?” James asked.
“We've been worried sick,” Henry said, although fretting had evidently not impaired his appetite, as witnessed by the pile of chicken bones on his plate.
Will's brown eyes scanned her head to toe, then he returned to his pie. A thought surprised her, that the ride would have been much more enjoyable in his company.
Nettie moved a full plate from the warming oven to the table. “We saved supper for you. Sit down and tell us about your ride.”
“It was inspirational!” Sophia took her place and smiled at them all. “I have the most glorious idea for a Christmas celebration!”
D
id you see the fog rising off the river?” Sophia asked as she made her entrance for breakfast. “It is quite beautiful.”
It was one of the things Will appreciated about Sophia, her ability to find beauty in the everyday.
The rev, on the other hand, took a darker view. “Nothing good about this weather.” He stomped in, shook the rain off his slicker, and hung it on a hook near the door.
Sophia fingered the shiny black material. “This sheds water well. Is it leather?”
Henry shook his head. “Rubberized fabric.”
She turned to the agent. “Could weâ”
“No chance. They're so expensive, I can't imagine how Henry could afford one.”
The reverend gave a little snort. “Donated by a widow as payment for her husband's funeral.”
With a rattle on the roof, the rain changed to sleet.
“School's off.” James toasted Sophia with his coffee mug.
“But I told the students we would practice our Christmas performance today.”
“Too dangerous.” Will glanced out. He'd have to spread ashes on the path to the outhouse.
Nettie dried her hands on a towel. “Well then, let's unpack those new boxes.”
“I hope they contain useful items this time.” Sophia followed her into the front room. James and Henry disappeared into their offices.
Will settled back with a second cup of coffee and listened to the sounds coming from the front room. Every box turned Nettie into a kid at Christmas. He heard a thump as the lid he'd loosened earlier was set on the floor.
“Here's a letter for you,” Nettie said. “Oh my. I've never seen the like. It's sized for an adult, but . . .”
“It looks like a frock a child would wear?” Sophia groaned. “That is dear Annabelle, in a nutshell. We shared a suite at the College. She taught English until marrying a congressman. Since we are blessed with her old wardrobe, she must have ordered new.”
Nettie muttered, “Four, five different types of lace, chenille ball trim, fringe, tucks and pleats, two dozen bows. All in baby-bottom pink.”
In the kitchen, Will suppressed a laugh.
“And soutache trim,” Sophia said. “Although it is not quite the same effect without her jewelry.” Paper rustled. “Ah. This is useful. A list of senators and congressmen, with addresses.”
“Please tell me this isn't the fashion.” Fabric rustled.
“Here's another, in butter yellow. How could she teach dressed like an infant ready for christening?”
“Our students were well behaved in the extreme. But our lady principal was sorely vexed, as she had directed the students toward simplicity in dress.”
More swishing of cloth. Will considered going to see what the fuss was about, but his coffee had just cooled to the perfect temperature. And after cutting wood all week, he needed to sit a spell.
“Merciful heavens, look at this needlework. A life-sized doll's dress. How will she cope as a legislator's wife?”
