Edge of the Wilderness - By Stephanie Grace Whitson Page 0,45
lion?” Nancy said as he rode away. “This close to camp?” she shivered.
Robert put his arm around her. He called to Big Amos. “Did you hear a mountain lion last night?”
Big Amos shook his head.
“Neither did I,” Robert said. He watched his friend ride out of camp. And he prayed.
Jeb Grant had filled nearly half a wagon full of good corn when Daniel Two Stars rode up. “Been hopin’ you’d come by,” he said, taking off his work gloves and beating them against his pants to shake out the dust. “That stallion’s a beautiful animal, but I can’t do a thing with him.”
“I’m sorry if he caused you trouble,” Daniel said.
“No need to apologize,” Jeb said quickly. “I was hoping to keep him. But every time I come near him, he throws a fit. I’ve managed to keep him fed, and some creative herding has gotten him in and out of his stall so I could muck it out, but he’s never going to be content living on a farm.”
“Captain Willets is sending three of us west to stop the reservation Indians trying to come back to Minnesota,” Daniel said. He hesitated before adding, “I’d like to set the horse free out there—if it’s all right with you.”
“I’d be grateful,” Jeb said without hesitation. “Even if I could have tamed him down, I didn’t know how I was going to explain a dirt farmer from Kentucky having a horse like that.” He grinned. “Maybe he’ll make up to you. I been thinkin’ he objects to the smell of white folks.”
Daniel smiled and headed for the barn. He found the stallion backed into the corner of his stall eyeing him suspiciously. When Daniel put his hands on the edge of the stall, the horse tossed his head and bared his teeth.
“See what I mean?” Jeb said from the doorway.
“Damakota. Mawaste,” Daniel said in a low voice. He held out his hand. The stallion neighed sharply and pawed the ground. “Ihnuhan hecanon kin,” Daniel continued to speak to the horse in Dakota. As he did so, he unlatched the stall door and stepped in. The horse stretched his neck out and turned his head, eyeing Daniel carefully. As Daniel continued speaking Dakota, the animal lowered its head and stepped forward until its forehead rested against Daniel’s chest. It sighed and stood still while Daniel scratched its ears.
“Well, I’ll be,” Jeb said quietly. “Guess I was right. All he needed was an Indian friend.”
“His halter?” Daniel asked.
Jeb handed it over, and in only a few moments the horse was following Daniel around the farm yard calmly.
“Like a big ol’ puppy dog,” Jeb commented from his observation post near the cabin.
“Can you stay to supper?” Marjorie called out. She was sitting beneath a newly constructed porch, a huge bowl of freshly picked green beans in her lap.
Daniel shook his head.
“You stay safe, my friend,” Jeb said.
Daniel lifted his hand in a silent good-bye. Then, for some reason, he urged his gelding back around. “Do you still pray every night?” he asked abruptly.
Jeb looked up at him in surprise. He grinned. “I even been makin’ up my own words of late. Guess I decided bein’ upset with the Man in Charge was pointless.”
Daniel nodded. He almost asked Jeb to include him in his prayers. Instead, he lifted his hand again and rode away.
When the Grants had supper that night, Marjorie said abruptly, “Say a prayer for Daniel Two Stars, Jeb.” At her husband’s look of surprise she shrugged. “It just seems like somethin’ we ought to do.”
Jeb prayed.
Thirteen
For the LORD seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the LORD looketh on the heart.”
—1 Samuel 16:7
“Welcome home,” Gen whispered, hugging Simon. Her joy faltered when she realized how thin he was. She looked up at him with a little frown of concern. Fatigue was etched in his face, aging him considerably.
Simon released her quickly and opened his arms to Meg and Hope, staggering backward when they flung themselves at him. “Whoa, there, girls,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “Let your old father sit down.” He held their hands and together they went into the parlor where it did not escape Gen’s notice that Simon sighed with relief when he sank into a cushioned high-backed chair.
Aaron lingered behind his father, his arm around Gen. He did not miss her look of concern. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “He’s just tired.”