Edge of the Wilderness - By Stephanie Grace Whitson Page 0,90
a gentleman,” Elliot said wearily. “I’ve spent most of the fall ‘discussing things like a gentleman.’ And accomplished nothing.” But he sat down.
“I have the document right here,” Lance said, tapping a sheaf of papers with a quill pen. “Superintendent Thompson reports that the Sioux are pleased with their location at Crow Creek.” Raising one eyebrow he said, “He also indicates that if it were not for whites telling the Dakota the reservation is no good, everything would be fine.”
“He’s a liar,” Elliot said bluntly. He reached inside his coat pocket and withdrew his own piece of paper. “Agent Bolcombe says that if they aren’t moved, the entire group at Crow Creek will become extinct.”
“Agent Bolcombe’s hysterical reports do not inspire confidence,” the senator said quickly.
Elliot leaned forward, pleading, “Avery, this isn’t right. You know it isn’t right. We were friends at the academy. You know I’m not a hysteric.”
“My hands are tied, Elliot.” Lance held both hands up in a gesture of despair. “I am sorry, but there’s simply nothing I can do. The Indians are still causing untold trouble in the west. It’s hard to be sympathetic when I have reports of hostiles still breaking through into Minnesota and killing innocent white families.”
“A few isolated incidents, Avery. It has nothing to do with the people at Crow Creek.” Elliot leaned forward and rested his forearm on the desk. “I’ve seen it, Avery. They are harmless old men, women, and children—at least there were still a few children left when I was there early this year. They may all be dead by now.”
“There’s no need to be overly dramatic, Elliot,” Avery said primly. “I’m certain something can be done. But change takes time. You are not the only person saying these things, you know. Governor Edmunds of Dakota Territory has been preaching the same message—judicious superintendence, not soldiers.”
“And for all his trouble he’s been forbidden to enter Indian country or to attempt any negotiations with the hostiles apart from the army,” Leighton said. “I’m not a fool, Avery. I keep myself informed. And I won’t be put off.” Seeing the obstinacy in his friend’s eyes, Elliot sighed. Trying to calm himself, he said quietly, “At least get them to send a physician. Surely that isn’t asking too much.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Avery said, standing up.
“Am I being dismissed?” Elliot said.
“I’m sorry, Elliot. But I have meetings.” He sighed dramatically. “You saw the line of people waiting in the hallway.” He put a hand on Elliot’s shoulder. “But please come back again. And bring your lovely wife with you. Louella gives a tea for all the congressional wives every Wednesday afternoon. I’m certain she’d love to have the new Mrs. Leighton join her.”
Before he could think what to say, Major Elliot Leighton found himself in the hallway outside the senator’s office. There was, indeed, a long line of people waiting to get in. He supposed he should feel grateful that Avery had made time for him on short notice. But he did not.
“What do I have to do, Simon?” Elliot said later that week over dessert in the elegant Leighton dining room. He tossed his fork aside and stood up. “Maybe you had the right idea back at Crow Creek when you threatened to carry Buffalo Moon back here and lay her at the president’s feet. Perhaps that’s what it will take.” He sat back down. “How is the Bible project progressing?”
Simon nodded. “‘Very well. It will probably take most of the winter, but in the spring we should be able to go back to Crow Creek with the Dakota New Testament, Proverbs, and a revised Genesis.” He cleared his throat and pushed his half-eaten breakfast away. “It will be a long winter. I really do want to get back to the West. We both do. Gen is patient with me, but she hates living in the city.”
“Well, perhaps by then we’ll have made someone listen. Perhaps there will be a new reservation. Where the Dakota can actually prosper.”
Simon looked at Elliot for a moment before saying, “You know, Elliot, every time I look at you I think what a miracle God has wrought in that heart of yours.” Gen came downstairs, poured herself a cup of coffee, and slid into the seat beside her husband. Simon smiled at Elliot. “‘Miracles all around, brother-in-law. Miracles all around.”
Through the winter of 1864–65, Genevieve Dane bent her own will to her heavenly Father’s and was rewarded with family love and