The Long Journey Home: a Novel of the Post-Civil War Plains by Laurel Means

Author:Laurel Means
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chicago Review Press
Published: 2008-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Dead End

The currents of the Mississippi running past St. Cloud were strong and swift, but the two Sauks had already paddled several miles upstream from town before sun-up. Henry hoped that the men in the buggy still searching for him on the streets of St. Cloud, or the main roads back to Green Prairie, had no inkling of his means of escape. Even so, there was still a chance someone had seen him with the old sergeant. If that happened, and the sergeant was forced to confess as to his whereabouts, then—well, somebody might be waiting for him up there on the Little Falls road or even at his cabin. It was not a comforting thought.

Low down in the water and beneath him, Henry sensed the current rushing under the thin birch bark of the canoe’s skin and thought at how different this seemed from the big log rafts on which his family had come down the Ohio. Henry marveled at the speed the canoe was making. Apprehension about his pursuers fading, he turned to offer Black Feather a piece of the sergeant’s soda bread, but the brave shook his head, pointed ahead, and said something to the Sauk in the bow. Henry saw a big snag in mid-channel, but the paddlers managed a quick change of course to avoid it.

It was the first time Henry had had a chance to look at these two men. Black Feather wore regular farmer’s clothes—twill pants, a flannel shirt and corduroy vest, and a brown felt hat, but the hat was decorated with a colorful woven band and a handful of long black feathers. The Sauk in the bow, however, appeared to be dressed in buckskins. He wore no hat, but, unlike Black Feather, his hair was cut short, like the cut-hairs Henry heard about describing those Sioux resettling in areas around the territory. Under influence of the white settlers, many were changing their culture from hunting to farming. Henry contemplated this odd combination of effects for a while, seemingly symbolizing the sad cultural ambivalence being forced upon these native people.

Such thoughts also raised several issues troubling him, not the least the question of land ownership and his own claim. There was an ambivalence about that, too. Not totally able to dismiss such worries, he eventually found himself starting to doze. The heat of the sun, the steady sound of gurgling water rushing past, and the rhythmic plunge of the Sauks’ paddles proved too much. His head dropped down on his chest and his body swayed with the movement of the canoe, but his hands still tightly clutched the leather bag containing his claim papers.

Morning wore on with more twists and turns through the current. Although both banks of the river were heavily wooded, from time to time a clearing appeared with nascent settlements dotted along the bank. At one Henry noticed a small sternwheeler tied to the dock. “Say,” he said, with a forced laugh as he pointed to the boat, “I’ll

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