Edge of the Wilderness - By Stephanie Grace Whitson Page 0,41
thought to himself, she doesn’t look particularly Indian. She clutched a blonde-headed toddler in her arms and was looking down at one of the children, smiling. Pretty. Some would say beautiful. He couldn’t begrudge Simon Dane the attraction, that was certain.
Leighton stood up, expecting the entire group to enter the house at any moment, but as he listened, he could tell they were walking around to the back of the house, apparently coming in through the kitchen. Turning to look in the mirror at himself, he straightened his collar and swiped at his long white hair with his hand.
“Uncle Elliot?” A girlish voice sounded from the doorway. Elliot turned around to see one eye framed by a mass of dark red curls peering at him from around the edge of the door.
“Is that Meg?” Elliot said, trying to sound as friendly as possible.
Meg took one step from behind the door. She eyed the stranger suspiciously. “You don’t look anything like the picture Grandmother kept on her mantel.”
“I expect not,” Elliot answered quietly. “The cavalry aged me significantly.”
Meg took another step forward. She looked down at the hook protruding from his shirt sleeve. “Did you lose your hand in the war?” she asked abruptly.
Leighton nodded. To his amazement, the child’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry, Uncle Elliot,” she croaked. “Did it hurt terribly?”
Something in the child’s unabashed sympathy touched a place in Elliot Leighton’s soul that had been locked away for a long time. Unable to speak without his voice shaking, he simply nodded.
Meg moved to his side and laid her hand on his arm. “Is that what made your hair white too?” she said.
Elliot managed to look at her. Where, he thought, had a child of only eight years learned such honest compassion?
When Elliot didn’t speak, Meg said softly, “We saw a lady that got white hair when we were in the Indians’ camp last year.” She reached up and touched her temples. “Even Gen got some just here. Father said it was being afraid that made her hair do that.” She looked her uncle over and smiled. “I like it. You look sort of like a lion.”
Elliot smiled at Meg with true warmth. He found himself thanking her and meaning it. “I suppose I do look rather fierce. Does it frighten you?”
Meg considered before answering. Then she shook her head.
“Why not?”
“Well,” she answered slowly. “I guess you can’t always tell what’s on the inside just by looking at the outside, can you?” Her face seemed to age visibly as she said, “What I mean is, when we were with the Indians, some of them looked terrible fierce. Daniel Two Stars—he was our friend—he found us one night and he was painted like a very bad Indian.” Meg motioned as she spoke, “He had red circles around his eyes, and lightning on his chest. We hardly recognized him! But underneath he was just our friend Daniel.” Meg shrugged. “You just can’t always tell by looking, that’s all.” She eyed Leighton for a moment and then pointed down at his hook. “Can you pick stuff up with that?”
Elliot nodded.
Meg got a book down from the shelf beside the fireplace. Elliot was demonstrating the mechanics of his metal hand when Genevieve LaCroix entered the parlor, followed by Miss Jane carrying a tray laden with both hot tea and lemonade.
Extending her hand and grasping Elliot’s in a firm handshake, Gen said, “I’m sorry to say Simon isn’t here. He and Aaron went—”
“West to Crow Creek,” Elliot said. “Miss Jane told me.”
“Uncle Elliot has a hook,” Meg interrupted. “He can pick things up.” She nodded at Gen. “Show her, Uncle Elliot.”
Elliot said quickly, “Perhaps another time.” He turned to face Gen, his face red with embarrassment. “Obviously I was hoping to see Reverend Dane.”
“Of course,” Gen said. “Won’t you sit down?” She offered Elliot a glass of lemonade and then, pouring hot tea for herself and Miss Jane, settled on the couch opposite him. “Including his stint at the prison in Davenport, Simon has been away for some time. One of the mission workers at Crow Creek sent a rather desperate plea for help. Simon is eager to reestablish himself among the Dakota families, so he came back here to regroup and then headed west to the reservation. You only missed him by a week or so.”
“When is he expected back?” Elliot asked.
Gen hesitated. “Actually, Meg and Hope and I are just waiting for him to send for us.”