Edge of the Wilderness by Stephanie Grace Whitson

Author:Stephanie Grace Whitson
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: historical fiction, Dakota war commemoration, Dakota war of 1862, Dakota Moon Series, Dakota Moons Book 2, Dakota Sioux, southwestern Minnesota, Christy-award finalist, faith, Genevieve LaCroix, Daniel Two Stars, Simon Dane, Edge of the Wilderness, Stephanie Grace Whitson
Publisher: eChristian, Inc.
Published: 2012-06-28T04:00:00+00:00

Fifteen

He that oppresseth the poor reproacheth his Maker: but he that honoureth him hath mercy on the poor.

—Proverbs 14:31

Simon sat back in the dust, holding the starving Dakota woman in his arms. He and Elliot had been crossing to the agent’s office to arrange for distribution of their supplies when they noticed the woman weaving back and forth across the trail where a company of mounted soldiers had just passed. She would stoop over, picking at the dust, tuck something into a skin bag at her waist, and then go on a little farther. When she staggered and fell, Simon ran to her. She whispered something.

“What is it?” Elliot knelt beside Simon.

“Soup,” Simon whispered hoarsely. He reached into the bag at the woman’s side and withdrew a few filthy kernels of corn. “She said she was making soup.”

The two men looked around them at the steaming piles of manure left in the wake of the cavalry’s passing. They looked at the woman, limp in Simon’s arms. Her fingers were coated with manure.

“Dear God in heaven,” Elliot whispered, disbelieving.

Pulling the semiconscious woman into his arms, Simon struggled to his feet and headed across the barren earth toward the agent’s quarters. Elliot walked ahead of him. Together, the men burst through the door unannounced.

“What’s this?” Harry Finley looked up from his desk, frowning.

“It’s a starving woman,” Simon said between clenched teeth. He laid the woman gently on Finley’s desktop.

Finley jumped up, wrinkling his nose. “Get this stinking piece of flesh out of here,” he barked. “She’ll have lice crawling all over the place.”

“I want guns,” Simon said tersely. “Guns for fifty men—that is if I can find fifty able-bodied men. I want you to authorize a hunting party to be led by my brother-in-law and myself.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Finley snorted. “I’m not going to arm my prisoners!” He lowered his voice. “Be reasonable, Reverend Dane. I know things are wretched. That’s why I’m in the process of contracting locally for supplies.”

“You can’t get enough fast enough,” Simon retorted. “We have nearly a thousand starving people just outside the stockade. The last relief supplies you got were spoiled meat and worm-ridden flour. These people need fresh meat or they are not going to survive the winter.” Simon leaned across the unconscious woman’s form. “How many more children must die? You be reasonable, Finley. These men aren’t going to rise up against you. Sending out a hunting party isn’t dangerous. It’s common sense.”

The agent scratched at his grizzled day-old beard. He looked at the unconscious woman on his desk and turned away in revulsion.

Simon spit words between clenched teeth. “If you refuse to do this, Finley, I will personally see to it that you are drummed out of your office if I have to carry this woman to Washington, D.C. and lay her dead body at the president’s feet!” He knew he should lower his voice, but he didn’t try. He touched the woman’s hair. “They aren’t animals, Finley.” He walked around the desk and faced the man.

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