Read Online Scarlet Plume, Second Edition by Frederick Manfred - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Frederick Manfred
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boys.
Mrs. Christians arrived. She had forced her way through some shallows in the arm of the lake and was soaked to the armpits. Wet garments accentuated the swinging of her gravid belly and swollen breasts. She was in hysterics. Her teeth chattered so hard, no one could make out what she was saying. She seemed to be trying to tell them something about her dead husband, Henry.
Merry widow Mavis Harder came skimming over from her store, green velvet dress gathered up at the knees, the better to run. Her dress matched the hue of the lush prairie grass exactly. She had the muscled legs and slim bosom of the ballet dancer. Her features were sharp, like a terrier’s. Her eyes were gray, and she had gaunt hollows under her cheekbones. She came on breathless, wild-eyed. She threw her arms around Judith. “Judith! Oh! Am I glad to see you. After what just happened to me.”
Judith embraced Mavis in turn. “Now, now. We are all safe here.”
“Two young Indian boys just tried to attack me,” Mavis said. “Can you imagine?”
“Not really.”
“It was simply awful. Boys they were.”
“There, there. Claude will have a talk with them later. Never fear.”
“The nerve of them. Snotnoses!”
Billy Vikes came thundering back on his fat horse, one arm flapping, the other hand tugging a second gray horse along. Vikes pulled up short. “I tried to tell everybody, Reverend,” he cried. The whites of his eyes were still wild and high. “But half are already murdered. The Wagners are wiped out. All five of ’em. There’s feathers scattered all over the yard. Pigs and cows dead. Their dog murdered. Their garden all ripped up. Wheat stolen.”
“What about the Magnus Olsons?” Reverend Codman asked.
“I don’t know. Didn’t see hide nor hair of them.”
“And the Tallak Aanensons?”
“Here we are, Reverend,” a voice growled from around the corner of the log cabin. A giant of a man, blond and red-cheeked, with blue eyes set unnaturally far apart, came striding up. A thatch of matted brown-gold hair stuck out where his shirt was open at the throat. His wife, Benta, came behind him carrying a baby. She was short, very thin, and had dark-brown hair. Beside her trotted three little girls, aged two, three, and four. The children, including the baby, were all goldheads like the father. All the Aanensons had glowing red cheeks.
Reverend Codman grabbed Tallak’s hand in both of his and held it for a moment.
“Ain’t run so hard since an old bull took after me in the old country,” Tallak said.
Reverend Codman looked around at his flock. “Yes. We are all here but the Wagners and the Olsons. And Lena Crydenwise and children.”
An Indian head appeared above the rise to the east.
Everyone turned to look.
“Ah,” Theodosia breathed, “it’s our good friend Pounce. He has come to help us. I knew he would stand by his new friends in Christ.”
Reverend Codman rubbed his hands in relief. “So it is. Our work has not been in vain after all.”
Pounce for all his fat belly came hurrying toward them with a quick light step. He had on a pair of black breeches and a gray work shirt given him by the mission. His hair was cut white-man style. His leathery brown face, deeply scarred by the white man’s smallpox, had a worried look. His black eyes were bloodshot as if from lack of sleep. His thick lips were drawn back and down.
Pounce raised his left hand in greeting. The left hand was always raised upon meeting someone because it was nearest to the heart and because it had shed no blood. Pounce spoke in broken American. “Houw. I look at you. My heart is glad to see my friends.”
Reverend Codman stepped forward with a smile and held out his hand. “It makes my heart glad to see you too, my friend.”
Pounce looked away for a second. Then, bowing a little, and in the manner of the old-time Dakota weepers, he cried over Reverend Codman’s hand. Tears fell on the back of Reverend Codman’s wrist. “It is
Mrs. Christians arrived. She had forced her way through some shallows in the arm of the lake and was soaked to the armpits. Wet garments accentuated the swinging of her gravid belly and swollen breasts. She was in hysterics. Her teeth chattered so hard, no one could make out what she was saying. She seemed to be trying to tell them something about her dead husband, Henry.
Merry widow Mavis Harder came skimming over from her store, green velvet dress gathered up at the knees, the better to run. Her dress matched the hue of the lush prairie grass exactly. She had the muscled legs and slim bosom of the ballet dancer. Her features were sharp, like a terrier’s. Her eyes were gray, and she had gaunt hollows under her cheekbones. She came on breathless, wild-eyed. She threw her arms around Judith. “Judith! Oh! Am I glad to see you. After what just happened to me.”
Judith embraced Mavis in turn. “Now, now. We are all safe here.”
“Two young Indian boys just tried to attack me,” Mavis said. “Can you imagine?”
“Not really.”
“It was simply awful. Boys they were.”
“There, there. Claude will have a talk with them later. Never fear.”
“The nerve of them. Snotnoses!”
Billy Vikes came thundering back on his fat horse, one arm flapping, the other hand tugging a second gray horse along. Vikes pulled up short. “I tried to tell everybody, Reverend,” he cried. The whites of his eyes were still wild and high. “But half are already murdered. The Wagners are wiped out. All five of ’em. There’s feathers scattered all over the yard. Pigs and cows dead. Their dog murdered. Their garden all ripped up. Wheat stolen.”
“What about the Magnus Olsons?” Reverend Codman asked.
“I don’t know. Didn’t see hide nor hair of them.”
“And the Tallak Aanensons?”
“Here we are, Reverend,” a voice growled from around the corner of the log cabin. A giant of a man, blond and red-cheeked, with blue eyes set unnaturally far apart, came striding up. A thatch of matted brown-gold hair stuck out where his shirt was open at the throat. His wife, Benta, came behind him carrying a baby. She was short, very thin, and had dark-brown hair. Beside her trotted three little girls, aged two, three, and four. The children, including the baby, were all goldheads like the father. All the Aanensons had glowing red cheeks.
Reverend Codman grabbed Tallak’s hand in both of his and held it for a moment.
“Ain’t run so hard since an old bull took after me in the old country,” Tallak said.
Reverend Codman looked around at his flock. “Yes. We are all here but the Wagners and the Olsons. And Lena Crydenwise and children.”
An Indian head appeared above the rise to the east.
Everyone turned to look.
“Ah,” Theodosia breathed, “it’s our good friend Pounce. He has come to help us. I knew he would stand by his new friends in Christ.”
Reverend Codman rubbed his hands in relief. “So it is. Our work has not been in vain after all.”
Pounce for all his fat belly came hurrying toward them with a quick light step. He had on a pair of black breeches and a gray work shirt given him by the mission. His hair was cut white-man style. His leathery brown face, deeply scarred by the white man’s smallpox, had a worried look. His black eyes were bloodshot as if from lack of sleep. His thick lips were drawn back and down.
Pounce raised his left hand in greeting. The left hand was always raised upon meeting someone because it was nearest to the heart and because it had shed no blood. Pounce spoke in broken American. “Houw. I look at you. My heart is glad to see my friends.”
Reverend Codman stepped forward with a smile and held out his hand. “It makes my heart glad to see you too, my friend.”
Pounce looked away for a second. Then, bowing a little, and in the manner of the old-time Dakota weepers, he cried over Reverend Codman’s hand. Tears fell on the back of Reverend Codman’s wrist. “It is
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