The Sun Maid: A Story of Fort Dearborn

“But, child alive! You ain’t going alone, single-handed, to face five hundred bloody Indians! You must be crazy!”

“Oh, no, I’m not. It is all right. I am not afraid. There isn’t an Indian living who would harm a hair of my head, if he knew me; and almost all in Illinois do know me, either by sight or reputation. I am very happy with them and shall have a pleasant visit; that is, after I have dissuaded them from this proposed attack.”

“Kit, you couldn’t do it. ’Tain’t in nature. A young girl, alone, pretty as you are – You sha’n’t do it, – not with my consent; not while I’m alive and can set a horse or handle a gun. No, sirree. If you go, I go, and that’s the long and short of it.”

“No, dear Father Abel; you must not go; indeed you must not. It would ruin everything. It makes me very sad to have these constant broils and ill-feelings coming up between my white-faced and red-faced friends; yet the Lord permits it, and I try to be patient. But I tell you again, and you must believe it, that I am as safe out yonder in that camp of savages as I am here, this minute, with you. I am the Sun Maid, the Unafraid, the Daughter of Peace, the Snowflake. They have as many names for me as I am years old, I fancy. Each name means some noble thing they think they see in my character, and so I try to live up to it. It’s hard work, though, because I’m – well, I’m so quick-tempered and full of faults. But I suppose if God didn’t mean me to do this work, be a sort of peacemaker, He wouldn’t have made me just as I am or put me in just this place. That’s what the Doctor says, and so I do the best I can. After all, it’s a great honor, I think, to be let to serve people in this way, and so – Good-by, good-by!”

The Snowbird sprang forward at a word and, by experience trained to shun the sloughs and mud-holes, skimmed lightly across the prairie and out of sight. The Smiths stood and watched its disappearance, and the erect white figure upon its back, till both became a speck in the distance. Then, completely dumfounded by the incident, Abel sat down near the door-step to reflect upon it, while the more energetic Mercy departed for the Fort, declaring:

“I’ll see what that all means, or I’ll never say another word’s long as I live! The idee! Men– folks calling themselves men– and wearing government breeches, as I suppose they do, letting a girl like that go to destruction without a soul to stop her! But, my land! she was a sight to see, and no mistake!”

Meanwhile that was happening down at the little wharf which set all tongues a-chatter and fascinated all eyes.

“A fleet is coming in! A regular fleet of schooners, from the north and the upper lakes!”

Those who had not gone hunting crowded to the shore, and even the women caught their babies up and followed the men, Abel among the others, roused from his anxious brooding over the Sun Maid’s daring and catching the excitement.

“Shucks! Something must be up down that direction. Beats all. Here I’ve been only part of a day, and more things have gone on than would at our clearing in a month of Sundays. I – I’m all of a fluster to kind of keep my head level an’ my judgment cool. ’Twouldn’t never do to let on to ma how stirred up I be. Dear me! Seems as if I wouldn’t never get there. I do hope they’ll wait till I do.”

After all, it was the quietest and drowsiest of little hamlets, dropped down in the mud beside a great waterway; and the “fleet,” which had roused so much interest, was but a modest one of a half-dozen small schooners, laden with furs and peltries and manned by the smallest of crews.

However, to Abel, and to many another, it was a memorable event; and he made a pause at the Fort, which in itself was an object of great interest to him, to inform Mercy of the spectacle she was losing.

“Come on, ma! It’s a regular show down there. Real sailors and ships – we hain’t seen the like since we left the East and the coast of old Massachusetts.”

“Ships? My heart! I never expected to look upon another. Just to think it!”

The foremost vessel came to shore and was made fast; and there upon its deck stood a tall, dark-bearded man, who appeared what he was – the commander of the fleet; and he gave his orders in a clear, ringing voice that was instantly obeyed. His manner was grave, even melancholy; and his interest in the safe landing seemed greater than in any person among the expectant groups. He had tossed his hat aside and waited bareheaded in the sunshine till all was ready, when he stepped quietly ashore.

Then, indeed, he cast an inquiring glance around, in the possibility, though not probability, of meeting a familiar face. All at once, his dark eyes brightened and his bearing lost its indifference. Pushing his way rapidly through the crowd, he approached Abel and Mercy and extended his hands in greeting.

“Hail, old friends! Well met!”

“Hey? What? Ruther think you’ve got the better of me, stranger,” said the pioneer, awkwardly extending his own hardened palm.

“Probably the years since we met have made a greater change in me than in you. You both look exactly as you did that last day I saw you at the harvesting.”

“Hey? Which? When? I can’t place you, no how. I ain’t acquainted with ary sailor, so far forth as I remember.”

“But Gaspar, Father Abel? Surely, you and Mercy remember Gaspar Keith, whom you sheltered for so many years, and who treated you so badly at the end?”

“Glory! It ain’t! My soul, my soul! Why, Gaspar —Gaspar! If it’s you, I’m an old man. Why, you was only a stripling, and now – ”

“Now, I’m a man, too. That’s all. We all have to grow up and mature. I feel older than you look. And Mercy, the years have certainly used you well. It is good, indeed, to see your faces here, where I looked for strangers only.”

“Them’s us, lad. Them’s us. We’re the strangers in these parts. Just struck Chicago this very day. Got stuck in the mud, and had to be fished out like a couple of clams. And who do you think done the fishing? Though, if you hadn’t spoke that odd way just now, I’d have thought you would have known first off. Who do you suppose?”

“Oh, he’ll never guess. A man is always so slow,” interrupted Mercy, eagerly. “Well, ’twas nobody but our own little Kit! The Sun Maid, and looking more like a child of the sunshine even than when you run off with her so long ago.”

“The – Sun – Maid! Kit-ty, my Kitty?”

Gaspar’s face had paled at the mention of the Sun Maid to such a grayness beneath its brown that Mercy reached her hand to stay him from falling; but at his second question her womanly intuition told her something of the truth.

“Yes, Gaspar, boy. Your Kitty, and ours. We hadn’t seen her till to-day, neither; not since that harvestin’. But the longing got too strong and, when we was burnt out, we came straight for her. Didn’t you know she was here yet? Or didn’t you know she was still alive?”

“No. No, I didn’t. That very next winter after I went away – and that was the next day after we came here together – an Indian passed where I was hunting with my master and told me she had died. He was one we had known at Muck-otey-pokee – the White Pelican. He said a scourge of smallpox had swept the Fort and this settlement and that my little maid had passed out of the world forever. But you tell me —she is alive? After all these years of sorrow for her, she is still alive? I – it is hard to believe it.”

Mercy laid her hand upon the strong shoulder that now trembled in excitement.

“There, there, son; take it quiet. Yes, she’s alive, and the most beautiful woman the good Lord ever made. Never, even in the East, where girls had time to grow good-looking, was there ever anybody like her. I ain’t used to it myself, yet. I can’t realize it. She’s that well growed, and eddicated, and masterful. Why, child, the whole community looks up to her as if she were a sort of queen. I’ve found that out in just the few hours I’ve been here, and from just the few I’ve met. Even Wahneeny – she’s here, too; has been most all the time. The Black Partridge, Indian chief, he that was her brother, that took care of you two children when the massacre was, he didn’t expect she’d ever come again; but still, it appears, just on the chance of it, he rode off up country somewhere, and he happened to strike her trail, and that Osceolo’s – the scamp – that had run off with Kitty’s white horse, and fetched ’em all back. The women in the Fort was tellin’ me the whole story just now. I hain’t got a word out of Wahneeny, yet. She’s as close-mouthed as she ever was; but there’s more to hear than you could hark to in a day’s ride, and – Where you going, Gaspar?”

“To find my Kitty.”

“Well, you needn’t. And I don’t know as she’s any more yours than she is ours, seein’ we really had the credit of raisin’ her. For she’s took her life in her hand, and has gone alone, without ary man to protect her, out across the prairie to face five hunderd Indians on the war-path, and – Hold on! What you up to?”

The sailor, or hunter, whichever he might be, had started along the footpath to the Fort, and halted, half angrily, at this interruption.

“Well? What? I’ll see you by and by. I must find Kitty!”

“Right you are, lad. Find her, and fetch her back. And, say! Mercy says your own old Tempest horse is in the stable at the Fort; that it now belongs to the Sun Maid, and she’s the only one who ever rides it. The Captain gave it to her because she grieved so about you. I wouldn’t wonder if he’d travel nigh as fast as he used – when he run away before. I never saw the beat of you two young ones! As fast as a body catches up to you, off you run!”

Even amid the anxiety now renewed in Abel’s mind regarding Kitty, the humorous side of the situation appealed to him; but there was no answering smile on Gaspar’s face; only an anxiety and yearning beyond the comprehension of either of these honest, simple souls.

“Well, go on, then. Run your beatingest, in a bee line, due west. That’s the way she took, and that’s the trail you’ll find her on, if so be you find her at all.”

Those at the Fort looked, wondered, but did not object, as this dark voyageur strode straight into the stables and to a box stall where Tempest enjoyed a life of pampered indolence. They realized that this was no stranger, but one to whom all things were familiar – even the animal which answered so promptly to the cry:

“Tempest, old fellow!”

It was a voice he had never forgotten. The black gelding’s handsome head tossed in a thrill of delight, and the answering neigh to that love call was good to hear. In a moment Gaspar had found a saddle, slipped it into place, and, scarcely waiting to tighten its girth, had leaped upon the animal’s back.

“Forward, Tempest! Be true to your name!”

Those who saw the rush of the gallant creature through the open gates of the stockade acknowledged that he would be.

CHAPTER XVIII.

WESTWARD AND EASTWARD OVER THE PRAIRIE

“Fast, Tempest, fast!”

The sunshine was in his eyes, and a warmer sunshine in his heart, as Gaspar urged the gelding forward.

Fast it was. The faithful creature recognized the burden he carried, and his clean, small feet reeled off the distance like magic, till the village by the lake was left far behind, and only the limitless prairie stretched beyond. Yet still there was no sign of the Snowbird along the horizon, nor any point discernible where an Indian encampment might be.

At length the rider paused to consider the matter.

“It’s strange I don’t see her. If she were crossing the level, anywhere, I should, for my eyes are trained to long distances. It must be that Abel gave me the wrong direction. I’ll turn north, and try.”