"I will help your family," Will promised in Ponca. The Santee Agency was only ten miles away. Maybe his family could escape and find their way east.

A white finger jabbed toward Will's face. "And you. No more Indian gibberish."

Sophia ran up, skirts dragging in the mud, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Will-" She started talking in some foreign language, then corrected herself. "The soldiers are herding the children with bayonets!"

Inspector Howard narrowed his eyes. "The Russian! Kemble warned me about her. When the soldiers come back, I'll have them haul her off too. They'll have a good time searching for her pistol." Howard hurried into the warehouse out of the rain.

Will had to hide Sophia. And . . . bayonets? For this, a tribe that had never raised a hand against the United States?

Sophia, ever her father's daughter, calmed herself enough to report what she had seen. "Four detachments of cavalry from Fort Randall and one of infantry from Fort Sully."

Will explained about Brown Eagle.

"His poor wife. I can help too."

He leaned close so the inspector wouldn't hear. "No, you need to help Nettie make food for their journey. I don't know what Russians call it, but my mother called it bannock."

Nettie could keep Sophia out of trouble.

"Of course." Sophia took one step toward the house, then turned back. "I have envelopes with stamps for my students, so they can write. But I do not know where I shall be."

"Use my address and I'll send them on to you. Fifteenth and Jackson, Omaha, Nebraska."

"Bless you." Sophia rose up on tiptoes. Her soft lips brushed his cheek.

By the time Will's world righted itself, she had reached the agency house. He ran past the locked school to Brown Eagle's and found the boys in the yard.

"The soldiers broke the door this morning." Frank showed him. His jaw clenched as he fought to stop crying. "They took everything."

Joseph pounded his leg with a fist. "A soldier picked up Thomas Jefferson's little brother by his hair."

Will dug his fingers into the door frame. The four-year-old hadn't even started school, hadn't yet been subjected to the rev's haircuts. If Will had a gun, he'd . . .

What? Shoot someone? Start a war? Will took a breath and his vision cleared. Brown Eagle's chairs, lamps, bedsteads, washtub, washboard, stove, and table were gone. How were they supposed to cook without utensils or food?

Mary shivered on a blanket in the corner, holding the baby close. Michael, forced into early weaning by his mother's death, gummed a strip of beef jerky. Rosalie and Susette huddled on either side of her, eyes gla.s.sy with fever. A half dozen flour sacks contained what was left of their possessions.

"We will need our furniture when we get to Indian Territory." Marguerite wiped her tears on her sleeve. "The soldiers said they would send it. But I do not think they tell the truth."

Frank and Joseph ran inside. "Soldiers!"

A wagon rattled. "Load up!" commanded a sergeant.

"Sergeant, it's raining. And the lady of the house just had a baby."

"I got my orders." The man turned to talk to the driver of a pa.s.sing wagon.

Will carried Mary and the baby, then helped the rest climb in. Her blanket would be a soggy mess in no time. He pulled off his canvas duster and draped it over them.

Sophia found the table already piled with brown loaves. "I am so sorry. I am too late to help."

Nettie pulled another tray of what looked like oatmeal scones from the oven. "It won't last long for five hundred people. If I had more time, I'd butcher those roosters who wake us up every morning."

A clergyman peeked into the kitchen. "I thought I heard your voice, Miss Nettie."

"Reverend Hinman." Nettie's mouth stretched into a grim smile. She introduced Sophia to the missionary from the Santee Agency. "I wish I could say 'good morning,' but it isn't. I hope you have a miracle for us."

He shook his head. "Since January, Kemble's been telling Washington the Poncas consented to the move. To relent now, he says, would weaken the government's position in dealing with all Indians. Not to mention what it would do to his career. The Commissioner of Indian Affairs plans to move Spotted Tail's and Red Cloud's bands here by summer. The Yankton and Sioux City businessmen are rooting for Sioux, a bigger market for them."

"If they treated the Poncas fairly, all tribes would want to be treated fairly." Sophia started to help Nettie load the food into pillowcases.

"Miss Makinoff, if Henry and I could have a moment of your time?"

Nettie nodded. "Go on, child."

Sophia followed the minister into the office. Henry glanced up from packing his library. He handed her a letter with a weary smile. "I don't know what you've planned next, if you're returning to the College . . ."

"I have worked so hard to prevent this future for my students, I have not spared much thought for my own."

The letter was from the Reverend Doctor Doherty, the rector of a school for young ladies. I would be pleased to employ a teacher of Miss Makinoff's caliber at Brownell Hall. Sophia blinked at Henry. He did not like her, yet he had found employment for her. "How kind of you to look out for me."

"You're a good teacher." The compliment slipped through clenched teeth.

"I'm sorry we didn't have an opening at the Santee School," Reverend Hinman said.

"I have school supplies sent by the churches in New York. Could you use them at the Santee Agency?"

"You can't send them with the Poncas?"

Henry scowled. "They have barely enough wagons for the people."

Reverend Hinman shook his head. "Why not send the tribe by boat or railroad?"

Before Henry could respond, Nettie called from the kitchen. "It's time."

Sophia left the Brownell Hall letter in her room, wrote Will's address on her stamped envelopes, then hurried to join the rest. They dressed in their raincoats, grabbed a full pillowcase in each arm, and tromped through the mud. Mist thickened to a downpour. Thunder rumbled. The calendar said May sixteenth, but pounding rain chilled like early March.

A lightweight wagon slogged up behind them. Sophia recognized Pumpkin from her jaunt with Lieutenant Higgins. The other horse, a sorrel mare, appeared equally unenthusiastic about working.

"Dr. Girard, surgeon from Fort Randall," the trim man introduced himself. "You're welcome to ride along. Although I expect this rig was left over from the Civil War."

Henry muttered, "G.o.d answered this prayer, but not-"

"We'd love a ride, Doctor." Nettie accepted his hand up onto the seat. The ministers and Sophia climbed in back.

After an hour of b.u.mping across the reservation, they heard the roar of rushing water. The view from the crest of the hill showed the soldiers had herded the people to the sh.o.r.e of the Niobrara. No one spoke. Most were too exhausted to cry. Sophia heard Thomas Jefferson's high-pitched cough, but could not find him in the crowd. As she handed out the food, Will interpreted for Standing Bear and Lt. Higgins.

"The river is fast," the chief noted.

"All the rain we've been getting."

"The bottom is sand. The horses will not be able to pull the wagons."

"Listen, I've crossed the Missouri plenty of times. Guess I can cross this little stream." The lieutenant gave the command to move.

The soldier taking the lead was swept off his horse. Long Runner and Black Elk jumped into the icy water to rescue him.

With a sigh, the lieutenant gave the order to unload the wagons.

Sophia found Brown Eagle's family huddled on the riverbank. "Please write to me." She handed Marguerite the envelopes. "I will pray for you every day." Would she ever see them again?

"Thank you, Teacher."

Sophia gave a second look at the canvas duster draped over Brown Eagle's family. It was Will's. She found Moon Hawk huddled with White Buffalo Girl in the next wagon and gave her coat away. Nettie glanced over, nodded, then pa.s.sed hers to Prairie Flower and little Walk in the Wind. The agency kitchen's oilcloths went to Fast Little Runner and his wife, Eloise, White Eagle's wives and children, and the Jefferson children. White Swan wore Henry's rubberized slicker with dignity.

"You women will catch your death," said Lt. Higgins.

"I have a house and dry clothes to change into." Sophia traced his poncho with her gaze. "Perhaps you would care to make a donation?" He shook his head and rode away.

The Ponca men carried the elderly, sick, and young on their shoulders. The soldiers pulled the wagons across with ropes.

"What a mess." Henry shoved his fists into his pockets.

"No crossing of the Red Sea, that's for certain." Reverend Hinman gave his canvas coat to the elderly Walks with Effort, hoisted the man on his shoulders, and joined the swim.

Finally the entire group reached the far side of the river. Canvas tents rose between the wagons.

"How can they start a fire?" Drying out would be an impossibility. Sophia crossed her arms and shivered. The icy sleet cut through her basque, dragged her skirts in the mud, and weighted her hair until it hung down her back in a lump.

"Half those people should be in a hospital," Dr. Girard muttered as he brought the wagon. "Uh-oh. Someone's trying to escape."

It was Will. Sophia hurried to help him.

Will shook his head. "I'm wet."

"Imagine that." She pulled his arm over her shoulders and walked him to the wagon.

"Inspector wouldn't let me stay. Mary and Brown Eagle's children are part of the Bear Clan. They'll watch out for her."

He wiped his eyes. His gaze took in Sophia, Nettie, and Henry, all soaked and coatless. He wiped his palm down his face and swallowed.

"Greater love hath no man. Thank you."

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE.

Will changed into his driest clothes, then hurried to the kitchen. He pulled a chair up to the stove and sat on it backward, resting his head on his arms. Rain pelted the house. No matter how cold he was, the people were colder.

Sophia came in wearing a dry dress. She, too, pulled a chair close. "These long nights, the crying . . . I wanted it to stop. Now it is too quiet."

Until she started talking. Which he'd gotten used to. Gotten to liking it, as a matter of fact.

Sophia let down her hair and fanned it out near the stove. Even wet it shone so pretty. He should talk to her. But in the chaos he hadn't figured out what to say. Still, he'd better grab this chance. He might not have another. "Sophia?"

Her soft blue eyes met his gaze, then looked over his shoulder as Henry staggered in. The rev gave Sophia's hair an appreciative nod, then growled at the empty coffeepot.

"You are welcome to share my tea." She nodded at the canister on the shelf.

"At least it's hot." He grunted and poured a cup. "No fire in my stove."

"We're out of wood."

His fire-and-brimstone glare should have been enough to heat the room. "You haven't had to build anything since Christmas," he said to Will. "What have you been doing with your time?"

Nettie clumped down the stairs, her hair wrapped in a towel. "Now, Henry. Will's been doing the blacksmith's job, getting the wagons ready. And he's been helping everyone pack."

Sophia came to his defense. "And he has stored equipment in the warehouse, keeping inventory."

Inventory. A fancy word for writing a list of what belonged to who. A list that would never be seen again, now that Inspector Howard had taken it.

"We've got enough to keep the kitchen stove going until morning." Nettie fixed herself a cup of tea. "Sophia, thank you for sharing."

Sophia tipped her head toward the back porch. "Did you hear a noise?" On brisk, light steps, she hurried to the door.

"Be careful." Will pushed his weary carca.s.s upright.

She leaned close to the window. Her left hand shielded her eyes. Her right held her pistol at her shoulder, barrel pointing up. "Oh," she said several times, with a mix of surprise and sadness. She pocketed her gun. "I think . . . it is Zlata!"

Will stood by her as she opened the door. The yellow dog trudged in, her head and tail down. Her eyes blinked in the lamplight as she looked around the circle. She settled her gaze on Sophia. Her tail wagged once, just a little, as if asking permission, then she pushed her nose into Sophia's hand.

Without caring that the floor was muddy and the dog muddier, Sophia sat and pulled the dog into her lap. "Zlata. You are so thin. Where have you been? I have missed you so. And you have missed your people."

Will pa.s.sed Sophia his last clean handkerchief. The dog's tail started up a regular rhythm.

"Thank you. How foolish of me to cry over a dog, when seven hundred people-" Sophia looked up at him, her face a battleground. "Oh, Will. I cannot take her where I am going."

Henry said, "Will can swim her over to the Poncas in the morning."

"Swim that river again?" Nettie asked. "Absolutely not. He's risking pneumonia as it is."

"Then leave the animal here. Indian dogs are fairly resourceful. She'll be all right."