Bear’s bands.
Silvers said mockingly, “Well, Reverend, you’re a deep-read man; what do we do now?”
Bitter disappointment smoked in Reverend Codman’s eyes. It hurt the good reverend grievously to see his Christian Indians go berserk, while the heathen Indians did not. The defection of Pounce and his men, the killing of Henry Christians, the burning and pillaging of the settler homes and fields meant the total collapse of a world he and Theodosia had spent most of their adult lives building. Both he and Theodosia had often tried to explain the sinful greed of the white man to the red man. Both he and Theodosia had time and again tried to explain the nature of Stone Age people to the church back east. After much labor he had somehow got a few of the savages to listen to him, had somehow raised funds to build a church. But all was now for naught. It had turned out just as cynics predicted.
Judith recalled the time when she had once applauded Pounce. It was when she had first arrived. Services were being held in the new little clapboard church. Both whites and Pounce’s band were present. Toward the end of the sermon, Reverend Codman asked rhetorically, “Who has not stolen sometime somewhere?” All of a sudden, weeping, one after the other, Indian women got to their feet and began to confess. When finally even Pounce’s wife, Sunflower, rose to confess, Pounce broke in, growling, “Who knows how many times my wife has stolen? The Dakotas are a nation of thieves according to the white man’s laws, that I can see. I have said.” It had broken up the meeting.
Reverend Codman tried once more to avoid bloodshed. Sweat stood out on his nose. He said to Pounce, “Brother, remember when you touched the pen to the paper and signed the peace treaty with the white man? Well, let us remember that peace.”
Mad Bear brandished his longbow as if to cleave Reverend Codman in half with it. “Treaties of peace with the white man,” he raged, “are as worthless as ropes of sand.” He turned to his men. “Dakotas, hear me. It is time to harvest the blood. Our slain fathers cannot depart in peace!”
A double-barreled shotgun went off, twice. The back of Reverend Codman’s head broke inward above his neck. After a moment the insides of his head tumbled out like yellow clay being pushed out of a hole by a pocket gopher. The face that was left slowly closed over in peace. Then the body of Reverend Codman toppled backward into the deep grass.
A squaw lifted the high quavering trill of victory.
Judith sucked, and sucked, and sucked for breath. The Indians were at last killing them. Actually.
Theodosia, still carrying Johnnie, staggered, then cried aloud, “God is the refuge of his saints!”
A single stroke of lightning flashed beyond the trees. Then came a drum of thunder. The forward sheeting edge of a cloud bank began to cover the sun. Brightness gradually dimmed off.
The white women gaggled in terror.
Vikes tumbled down from the wagon seat and scrambled in between his grays. His eyes rolled wild, from side to side. His mouth hung open like a zigzag rectangle. He grabbed hold of the hames and hung on. He shook in such fear, the grays leaned away from him.
The boy Ted jumped down from the wagon and ran to his mother and hugged her around the legs. Theodosia settled to her heels, her slat sunbonnet folding over Ted and Johnnie like spreading wings.
Angela was next to leap off the wagon and run to her mother. Judith knelt in the grass. They threw their arms around each other and cried aloud in one voice.
Maggie Utterback let go with her gun. The ball popped through the painted chest of a brave, felling him.
Both Mad Bear and Pounce leaped for Silvers with a yell.
Silvers fired from the hip. He missed them both.
Pounce caught Silvers over the head with his war club, crunching his skull.
Mad Bear let go with his longbow, whung ! The arrow passed completely through Silvers’ heavy body and fell unbloodied on the
Silvers said mockingly, “Well, Reverend, you’re a deep-read man; what do we do now?”
Bitter disappointment smoked in Reverend Codman’s eyes. It hurt the good reverend grievously to see his Christian Indians go berserk, while the heathen Indians did not. The defection of Pounce and his men, the killing of Henry Christians, the burning and pillaging of the settler homes and fields meant the total collapse of a world he and Theodosia had spent most of their adult lives building. Both he and Theodosia had often tried to explain the sinful greed of the white man to the red man. Both he and Theodosia had time and again tried to explain the nature of Stone Age people to the church back east. After much labor he had somehow got a few of the savages to listen to him, had somehow raised funds to build a church. But all was now for naught. It had turned out just as cynics predicted.
Judith recalled the time when she had once applauded Pounce. It was when she had first arrived. Services were being held in the new little clapboard church. Both whites and Pounce’s band were present. Toward the end of the sermon, Reverend Codman asked rhetorically, “Who has not stolen sometime somewhere?” All of a sudden, weeping, one after the other, Indian women got to their feet and began to confess. When finally even Pounce’s wife, Sunflower, rose to confess, Pounce broke in, growling, “Who knows how many times my wife has stolen? The Dakotas are a nation of thieves according to the white man’s laws, that I can see. I have said.” It had broken up the meeting.
Reverend Codman tried once more to avoid bloodshed. Sweat stood out on his nose. He said to Pounce, “Brother, remember when you touched the pen to the paper and signed the peace treaty with the white man? Well, let us remember that peace.”
Mad Bear brandished his longbow as if to cleave Reverend Codman in half with it. “Treaties of peace with the white man,” he raged, “are as worthless as ropes of sand.” He turned to his men. “Dakotas, hear me. It is time to harvest the blood. Our slain fathers cannot depart in peace!”
A double-barreled shotgun went off, twice. The back of Reverend Codman’s head broke inward above his neck. After a moment the insides of his head tumbled out like yellow clay being pushed out of a hole by a pocket gopher. The face that was left slowly closed over in peace. Then the body of Reverend Codman toppled backward into the deep grass.
A squaw lifted the high quavering trill of victory.
Judith sucked, and sucked, and sucked for breath. The Indians were at last killing them. Actually.
Theodosia, still carrying Johnnie, staggered, then cried aloud, “God is the refuge of his saints!”
A single stroke of lightning flashed beyond the trees. Then came a drum of thunder. The forward sheeting edge of a cloud bank began to cover the sun. Brightness gradually dimmed off.
The white women gaggled in terror.
Vikes tumbled down from the wagon seat and scrambled in between his grays. His eyes rolled wild, from side to side. His mouth hung open like a zigzag rectangle. He grabbed hold of the hames and hung on. He shook in such fear, the grays leaned away from him.
The boy Ted jumped down from the wagon and ran to his mother and hugged her around the legs. Theodosia settled to her heels, her slat sunbonnet folding over Ted and Johnnie like spreading wings.
Angela was next to leap off the wagon and run to her mother. Judith knelt in the grass. They threw their arms around each other and cried aloud in one voice.
Maggie Utterback let go with her gun. The ball popped through the painted chest of a brave, felling him.
Both Mad Bear and Pounce leaped for Silvers with a yell.
Silvers fired from the hip. He missed them both.
Pounce caught Silvers over the head with his war club, crunching his skull.
Mad Bear let go with his longbow, whung ! The arrow passed completely through Silvers’ heavy body and fell unbloodied on the
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