Dakota people than the customs he was describing. As the weeks went by and he saw the people reacting to Simon, he began to see some of what Simon had said about their willingness to share, their caring for one another. He began to see them as people, and when he began to do that, he began to change.
“They have always been a very spiritual people,” Simon explained another time. He and Elliot had ridden out together after a herd of antelope someone had seen beyond reservation lines. When they came upon an odd arrangement of buffalo skulls, Simon said, “Almost everything in their lives has a spiritual significance. Of course most of us discount it all as godless superstition. But there is a haunting beauty in the symbolism of their ancient ways. Even the war paint means something. If a man wears black, it means he killed an enemy. Blue means victory.” He smiled. “There is language in the way the men wear their feathers. A scout’s feathers are painted yellow or white—and worn hanging down. Feathers standing up means he killed an enemy.” He paused. “Of course some of it we’ll never know, because they will never tell us what it means. Just before she died, I asked Buffalo Moon to tell me the meaning of a symbol on her moccasins. It was something I’d never seen before. She only smiled and said it was just a design she liked. I know better. But she took that secret to her grave.”
Elliot mused, “Someone should be writing these things down before they’re lost.” He was surprised to hear himself say it, but even more surprised to realize he meant it. The culture was obviously going to change, and much of it would be lost if no one documented it.
“Yes,” Simon said quietly. “Someone should.” He smiled at Elliot. “Perhaps that will be your ministry, brother.”
“Not me,” Elliot said quickly.
Simon studied his face carefully. “No,” he said finally. “Perhaps not.” He grinned and nudged his horse forward. “But I can’t tell you how pleased I am—how pleased Ellen would be—to hear you even voice the idea. It’s quite a departure from your previous position. And I don’t know anyone else who thinks the Dakota culture worth saving. Most either want to exterminate it completely or at best let it die a natural death through assimilation.”
“What do you think, Simon?”
Pulling his horse up, Simon thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t honestly know. Part of me wants them to change as quickly as possible because it will save their lives—and their souls. Part of me wonders if there isn’t a way to save their traditions and still win them to Christ.”
“Jane said she struggles with the same things,” Elliot said.
“Jane?”
“Jane Williams.” Elliot gestured toward a distant ridge where a huge buck antelope stood silhouetted against the gray sky. “Outspoken woman. Exasperating.”
“Pure gold, Elliot. There isn’t a finer woman in all of Minnesota.”
“Or Dakota Territory,” Elliot added under his breath. He put his reins in his hook and withdrew his rifle from its scabbard. “Unfortunately, she is completely dedicated to her beloved Indians. Whereas I am completely dedicated to returning east and seeing that my niece and nephew receive a proper education.”
“We can talk about that,” Simon said, lowering his voice and watching the antelope as it crossed toward them.
Elliot did not hide his surprise. “We can?”
Simon nodded. “Yes. After we get that big buck back to the agency.” He kneed his horse ahead of Elliot’s.
Later that evening, after they had returned to the agency with two carcasses on their pack mules, Simon resumed the subject.
“The fact is, Elliot, I don’t see any evidence of things quieting down anytime soon. Sibley has yet another campaign planned for next year that will keep the western bands stirred up. And believe it or not, he plans to remove most of the small detachment of troops we have in the spring. Even the cannon.”
“He can’t be serious!” Elliot interjected. “That will leave the entire agency vulnerable to attack!”
“Yes.” Simon nodded. “And it will keep everything in an uproar. I can’t believe the government is really going to keep the reservation located at Crow Creek. Superintendent Thompson’s glowing letters notwithstanding, someone somewhere is going to have to listen to the truth. Until the situation is more settled, I’d be a fool to bring my family out here. It really isn’t safe, and it wouldn’t accomplish anything.” He looked at Elliot. “Time in New