Jo's Triumph by Nikki Tate Page B

so you will not be too inconvenienced by Miss Whyte’s time with you. The girl is a hard worker, though not especially good with needlepoint.”
    I bristled at the remark, though I said nothing. Instead, I lowered my eyes and studied the wooden floor beyond Mrs. Ormsby’s wide skirts.
    When Miss Critchett had gone, Mrs. Ormsby showed me to a small room off the kitchen where I was to stay. It did not surprise me that I was to share my room — there were three beds inside — but imagine my horrorwhen I saw before me an Indian girl! I had never seen an Indian up close and presumed them all to be filthy savages. How wrong all my ideas about Indians would turn out to be.
    â€œSarah — this is Joselyn. She will stay with us for a short time until … until the troubles have been resolved.”
    I expected Sarah to look angry or afraid. After all, Mrs. Ormsby was speaking of Sarah’s people. Perhaps she had not understood what Mrs. Ormsby had said. But Sarah, who wore a dress not unlike my own, nodded. Her two black braids dipped and rose with her nod. She gestured to the empty bed closest to the door leading back into the kitchen.
    I could not stop staring. She looked nothing like I would have expected. Her brown skin was soft-looking and clean and her black hair was so glossy it shone in the lamplight when she moved her head. Yes, she most certainly was an Indian, and yet, I did not feel afraid. Though her eyes were dark and her nose a little broader than mine, shesimply looked like a girl about my age, sturdy and not at all unfriendly.
    â€œYou must not worry,” she said. I started, shocked that the words coming from her mouth were spoken as clearly as if Mary Brown had said them herself. “My brother and cousin are among the men who have come to Carson City. They are friends with Major Ormsby and are here to talk of the trouble. No harm will come to anyone, your people or mine.”
    She seemed so certain that I wondered why everyone was so afraid.
    â€œWhat trouble?” I asked. “Why are your men here?” Indian warriors rarely came to Carson City and certainly not in such numbers. “And why are you here, in this house?” For this was the most remarkable thing of all, to find an Indian girl living at Ormsby House.
    Sarah smiled. “My father is the great Chief Winnemucca. Major Ormsby and my father are good friends. My father believes that we must learn the ways of the white people. And so, I have come here with my sister to learn howto live as you do and how to speak your language.”
    â€œYour sister is here, too?”
    â€œYes.” Sarah gestured to the third bed. “We play with Lizzie, Major Ormsby’s daughter. I also help with the cooking and cleaning.”
    At this I had to sit down on the bed by the door.
    â€œYou ask what has happened, why our men are here.”
    All I could do was nod and listen.
    â€œThe chiefs are here to help find the Indians who murdered two white miners.”
    â€œYour people murdered — ”
    Sarah raised her hand and gave me a look of disgust. “No.” The tips of her braids twitched from side to side as she shook her head. “No. The white men were found with Washo arrows in their wounds. Our people are the Paiutes. Our arrows look different. My cousin, Chief Numaga, knows where to find the Washo Indians. He will ask their chief to send the guilty men so they can be punished.”
    â€œYour cousin will bring the guilty Indians here, to Carson City?”
    â€œI told you, my people and Major Ormsby are friends. As friends, we must help make sure right is done.” She tilted her head toward the dark window. “We must hurry now to help prepare the evening meal.” Sarah Winnemucca, her back straight, her walk quiet but confident, moved past me and out of the room.

    Nothing was ordinary about the rest of that evening. Indian men with rabbit fur robes and quivers of arrows