Chapter Thirty-Four

A COLD, WET RAIN • BACK TO THE LODGE • THE CAPTAIN • BEATRICE

THE CAPTAIN ordered the soldiers to give them water and food and to attend to the crack in Beatrice’s ribs from Lumpkin’s rifle. They sat, soldiers and Blackfeet alike, mulling over the events that led them all to be huddled at this far edge of the Great wood.

Jenkins and Lumpkin were untied but under guard, and sat in the shadow of the rock as they ate, staring at Beatrice and occasionally at Lionel. The captain told Jenkins to avert his gaze, but he continued to stare at them throughout the day and on the ride that took them into the night.

They mounted up after eating and rode slowly back through the woods to which Lionel and Beatrice had become so accustomed. The captain let Lionel and Beatrice ride on Ulysses, but this ride was different from the previous ones.

Their grandfather rode most of the way back to the lodge with the captain. Riding side by side, they spoke, occasionally pointing out to each other various aspects of the nature of the landscape that surrounded them.

Lionel half expected that at any moment Beatrice would turn the horse and try to make another escape. But this never happened. Beatrice looked tired and rode for the rest of the day slumped forward, asleep against Lionel’s back.

It started to rain sometime in the afternoon, and fell in cold, wet drops until they were all thoroughly soaked. Lionel shivered uncontrollably, but Beatrice woke up and pulled him closer, letting the rain pour over her head and back as she covered his.

They arrived in the meadow after dark, and Lionel thought that the little lodge looked sad as they rode past the smokehouse. The captain ordered his men to bivouac in the yard that led past the lodge to the garden, and within the half hour, their tents were set and their cook fires dotted the small valley’s lawn.

The soldiers brought the children and their grandfather to the lodge that had once been their home, and although they weren’t tied, it was obvious that they were, once again, prisoners. Beatrice was half asleep, slumped against Lionel, and their grandfather had to carry her, ducking his head to get under the crooked door. Lionel watched as he cradled Beatrice in his arms and laid her on the buffalo robe in front of the crumbling fireplace.

Jenkins had wrecked the lodge. Their stores were overturned and what little furniture there was was broken. Lionel saw his reflection in a sliver of broken glass on the floor and thought that they couldn’t have looked more different from their captors. Their hair had grown, and now even Lionel’s could hold the feathers and strips of felt and leather wound tightly within. Lionel looked at the soldiers in their uniforms and then at his and Beatrice’s buckskins. The buckskins blended into this world; the uniforms did not. Their grandfather stood at Lionel’s side as the soldiers left, his attire somewhere in between.

Corn Poe was oddly quiet, as were Tom Gunn and eventually Barney Little Plume, who joined them but ended up standing quietly in the shadows of the lodge, avoiding where Beatrice lay. Beatrice was silent and expressionless, almost as if she wasn’t there.

Brother Finn saw that the children were fed, and then at Grandpa’s urging, they all bedded down in front of the crumbled fireplace for the night. No one argued, and soon they fell into a deep sleep accompanied by the crack and pop of the fire.

Beatrice’s coughing woke Lionel in the middle of the night. It was heavier now, and sounded wet. Beatrice, wrapped in an army blanket and the buffalo robe, lay shivering at the edge of the fire’s glow, covered with sweat. Lionel woke his grandfather, who told him that he would look after her and that he should go back to sleep. Lionel tried to stay awake, watching his grandfather wet Beatrice’s head with cold water from the stream, but must have fallen asleep sometime during the night.

Lionel dreamed that night, and once again found himself on the shores of the great grass sea. He stood alone this time, holding the bear claws in his hand, looking out on the watery green. Great waves and whitecaps rose, and he could see Beatrice out in their turbulent midst. She was alone on her raft, the winds pushing her farther and farther from shore, farther and farther away from Lionel.

When Lionel awoke again it was still dark. His grandfather sat with Beatrice’s head cradled in his lap. He sang a low song to her, but no longer pressed the cold compress against her forehead. Lionel looked at his grandfather and knew that Beatrice was gone.

He sat with his grandfather and Beatrice until morning. He felt numb and thought that it wasn’t possible that Beatrice would leave. That Beatrice would leave him. But she had. Beatrice had told them that she wasn’t going back to the reservation, and she was right.