Night of the Full Moon by Gloria Whelan

Author:Gloria Whelan [Whelan, Gloria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-78906-8
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2011-03-09T05:00:00+00:00

The wagon jogged along a trail so narrow that the tree branches scraped its sides. Ahead of us the Indian men were silent. They rode with closed, angry faces. I was praying we would go by way of Saginaw. I was sure I would see someone there who knew me and could tell the soldiers who I really was. But Fawn said, “We are going toward the sun, away from Saginaw.”

We looked at each other, but neither of us said anything. When you are close to someone, words are slippery things that slide away from what you want to say. My hand stole into Fawn’s hand as we sat there hanging on tightly to each other for comfort.

All afternoon the sun beat down on the wagon. It was hot and dusty. The wagon was so crowded that some of the children tried to climb over the sides, thinking to walk. The soldiers made them climb back in. The women were quiet now. Only the frightened way they clasped their baskets tightly to them showed what they were feeling. One of the soldiers, an older man with a long red beard, handed his water canteen to us. “Let the children drink from it,” he said. His voice was gruff, but his eyes looked sad.

We were all tired and thirsty and relieved when the soldiers finally stopped and told us to make camp. The Indians had brought ground corn. Sanatuwa made a fire, getting sparks from his flint for the tinder, then fanning the tiny flame with a hawk’s wing. The porridge was cooked in Menisikwe’s iron kettle and shared out into wooden bowls, but we were too low-spirited to eat much.

There were about forty of us gathered around the fire. The men spoke in whispers. Even if I could have heard them, I wouldn’t have understood what they were saying. Fawn explained, “It is a council.”

Across the camping ground from us the soldiers were having their own dinner. They were talking loudly and laughing. Some of them were drinking out of bottles. Once or twice I thought again of trying to tell them who I was. But I was afraid, for there was a sentry on duty. Every time one of the Indians moved even a little way from our circle, the soldier pointed his rifle at him. The sentry kept watch long after we had wrapped ourselves in blankets and lain down.

I was ashamed to cry when the Indians could see me, but when I thought everyone was asleep, I couldn’t hold back my tears. Fawn heard me. She whispered, “I know my father. He will not let a man tell him where he must go.”

“What can he do?” I whispered back.

“He will find the right time,” she said, and drew her blanket over her.

I lay there unable to sleep. Above us the full moon was so bright in the sky I couldn’t see the stars that Papa used to name for me. I would have liked to have had them for comfort.

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