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  Pretty Eagle’s face mixed with pride, love and fear. “I hoped to see you wear this when-” She bit her lip, then raised her quivering chin. “You look beautiful.”

  Tears threatened as Quiet Thunder hugged her. “We’ll come back as soon as we can.” Her mother’s muffled sob pierced her heart.

  When she stepped back from her mother’s embrace, Black Bear stood solemnly watching, his parents behind him.

  Together, they carried their packs to the center of the village, where Captain Pratt and three other whites–one a woman–stood with Red Horse. Pratt called the woman Miss Mather, and she stepped forward. Age lined Miss Mather’s soft, fleshy cheeks. The fabric of her dress strained against the bust and waist of her dark blue, high-necked dress. When she spoke in their language, Quiet Thunder’s surprise kept her riveted.

  “I am here to assist Captain Pratt in bringing you to the Indian Industrial School. I’ll be one of your teachers. I’m eager to get to know each of you.” Folding her hands in front of her, Miss Mather smiled at the group.

  One wasichu held a ledger open and moved a quill across it as Pratt spoke the names of the children. Red Horse nodded to Eagle Elk, who approached with his father and brother. The white man spoke loudly and held out the ledger and quill.

  Miss Mather said, “Make your mark where he points. As part of the treaty, The Pine Ridge Agency keeps a record of all who leave their tribes. Without a parent’s mark, a child cannot go.”

  While his father took the quill, Eagle Elk glanced uncertainly at his brother.

  When Quiet Thunder’s turn came, Flying Horse moved forward as solemnly as if sacrificing to the Great Spirit. His hand trembled as he marked an X in the book.

  After all the parents had signed, Pratt said something to the men. They responded, and Pratt spoke to the head man.

  With stiff shoulders, Red Horse turned to the tribe. “It is time.”

  An ache as big as the sky overcame Quiet Thunder as she faced her mother and touched her palm to Pretty Eagle’s tear-stained cheek. She turned to her father, saw resignation in his eyes, and love. Holding back her tears, she hugged him, trying not to worry when she might see them again. Or if she was doing the right thing.

  When Black Bear trudged up, she set aside her fears. She belonged with him, wherever he might go.

  At the urging of Captain Pratt, they followed the others to where two wagons waited.

  Black Bear climbed inside, pulled her up and sat beside her on the long wooden bench. Running Wolf sat on her other side. Eagle Elk sat on the opposite bench with his brother.

  As the wagons lurched forward, Quiet Thunder gazed back at her mother and father, who huddled together with the other parents. As if in a nightmare, she watched, unable to move, and the village grew smaller. When it disappeared altogether, she turned to Black Bear, but found little comfort in his stoic face, hard as a stone.

  From her perch beside the driver, Miss Mather looked from Black Bear to Quiet Thunder. “Are you two related?”

  Black Bear stiffened. “No.”

  Quiet Thunder sensed this woman might try to warn Pratt if he learned of their love. “Running Wolf is my brother. Black Bear is our friend.”

  “I see.” Miss Mather sounded satisfied, but her narrow-eyed glances filled Quiet Thunder with unease. Finally, she turned away.

  His eyes ahead, Black Bear murmured, “You should have stayed.”

  She whispered, “You can’t protect me if you’re not with me.”

  He met her gaze for an instant, long enough for her to see the love in his eyes.

  ****

  At the Rosebud Agency, other wagons sat empty outside. Children from other tribes crowded inside. A wasichu motioned them toward him. When they exchanged puzzled glances, Miss Mather explained, “The doctor must make sure no one is sick before traveling.”

  Although Black Bear’s confusion dissolved, his discomfort did not. As he walked to the white doctor, he vowed never to entrust his well-being to a wasichu.

  The white man peered up at him through his round glasses. “Hmm.” He pointed at Black Bear’s mouth, and opened his. He did the same, and flushed with embarrassment as the wasichu looked inside. Black Bear fought to restrain his defensive urges when the doctor pressed his fingers below Black Bear’s ears and down his neck. The doctor gestured, and Black Bear walked ahead several paces, trying to read the man’s signals. The wasichu nodded when Black Bear increased his pace to match the speed of his hand circling through the air. He halted when the doctor’s hand suddenly grew still.

  After motioning Black Bear on, the doctor waved another boy toward him.

  Black Bear stopped near Quiet Thunder and her brother. “Very strange.”

  After the white inspected each child, Captain Pratt said something, and Miss Mather asked the children to gather.

  Quiet Thunder took her place beside Black Bear.

  Pratt spoke as he paced, gazing in turn at each of the new students. “You will learn much at the Carlisle Indian Industrial School. Things you could never learn from your people. The school welcomes all tribes, and will treat everyone equally. You’ll no longer be judged by your tribe, but by your performance. Work hard and you’ll do well.”

  The teacher listened as Pratt continued, then said, “We begin our journey in the morning. Tonight, we’ll rest here.”

  Two more wagons arrived bearing children of yet another Lakota tribe, who went through the same inspection and lecture.

  As evening fell, a mournful sound arose outside the Rosebud Agency. With Quiet Thunder following, Black Bear strode to the window, where others gathered.

  “What’s going on?” She clutched him.

  He felt grateful for the crowd, which blocked the view of the washichu; they couldn’t see her hand on his arm. How comforted he was by her warmth, her nearness. The time ahead loomed unclear, but with Quiet Thunder there, he would always feel grounded.

  “Fathers, mothers, grandfathers, grandmothers, head men…” Black Bear met her searching gaze. “All our families.”

  The wasichu called out to the children, urged them to rest before their long journey. Black Bear could not move until the stern face of the Rosebud agent appeared, blocking the window, waving them away. Although he couldn’t see them, he felt his family’s presence outside, heard their cries mingling with the chants.

  His spirit strangled within him as he forced herself to where the pack sat. With Quiet Thunder between himself and Running Wolf, he tried to sleep, but the hard wooden floor and the heartbreaking songs of those outside. With great sorrow, he echoed their call. Though he’d leave tomorrow, half his heart would live here always. The other half, he knew, Quiet Thunder would keep safe.

  ****

  For many suns, they traveled. When a town appeared in the distance, Pratt’s voice held relief as he spoke to the other whites. Quiet Thunder silently practiced saying Miss Mather’s name. She must be very important to travel with the white captain.

  As the wagon rolled through town, men and women scattered. Some men stood in a wide stance, and pulled their coats back to reveal the guns strapped to their sides. Some men leered at Quiet Thunder, called to her in a jeering tone. She didn’t know what the words were, but she knew what they meant. The men’s attitudes made them appear small and ugly. She wondered why wasichus had no pride and acted like tricksters, even amongst themselves.

  Black Bear bristled, but she shook her head. There was no use arguing with these ignorant men.

  The wagons followed several streets through town and halted outside a building by a river. Captain Pratt held up his hand and motioned for them to stay seated. He jumped from the wagon and strode to the doors.

  Miss Mather told them to wait while Pratt went inside. Quiet Thunder glanced uncertainly at Black Bear. She ached from sitting on the hard wooden bench but clutched it as she wondered what would come next.

  Pratt soon came out and hurried them toward a large boat the likes of which she’d never seen. Its si
des rose tall and people stood on two levels. Steam rose from it, and in front sat a large wheel. Pratt led them up a rising path onto the boat. Miss Mather stood to one side, motioning them forward.

  Her heart pounding, Quiet Thunder followed Black Bear and Running Wolf. The students crowded together as Pratt spoke to a uniformed man, who walked to a door under the deck and opened it. Pratt motioned for them to go inside the dark room. Quiet Thunder stayed close to Black Bear and her brother. The hot air inside felt uncomfortable, and the two small windows high on either side allowed for little fresh air.

  Eagle Elk turned toward Pratt and Miss Mather as they went to the door. “Where are we?”

  Miss Mather paused. “On a paddleboat. After this, we’ll take the train to our final destination. Carlisle, Pennsylvania.”

  Eagle Elk nodded, though Quiet Thunder knew he didn’t understand any more than she did.

  Captain Pratt closed the door, and the room grew dim, though the sun outside was bright. The students milled about, though there would be barely enough room for them all to sleep.

  A loud hiss sounded like the room was filled with huge snakes.

  Quiet Thunder gasped and covered her ears as her heart leaped to her throat. She pressed close to Black Bear. “What’s that?” She could see no snakes, but too many packs crowded the floor, too many people moved to be sure.

  A deafening roar rumbled through the room. The ship lurched. She gasped, clutched Black Bear and pulled Running Wolf to her.

  Black Bear gripped her waist. “It’s all right. We’re moving.”

  The terrible noise nearly overpowered his words, but they still comforted Quiet Thunder. The noise subsided enough for them to hear one another if they spoke loudly. They huddled for a long while.

  Black Bear leaned toward them. “We should get ready for the night.”

  Quiet Thunder reluctantly let go and bent to unroll her blanket. The crowded room meant she could sleep near Black Bear and her brother, and feel safe.

  Black Bear crossed his legs, sat and pulled wasna from his pouch. He offered some of the dried meat to Quiet Thunder. She shook her head and took out her own food.

  Some of the others did the same, while some stood and talked, or sat and prayed.

  A boy from another tribe jumped toward the window, but couldn’t reach.

  Another asked, “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to jump into the river,” the boy said. “Go home.”

  Quiet Thunder tensed. What if Black Bear decided the same? Or Running Wolf? Could she leave either to go with one?

  Black Bear laid back. “We should rest.” He exhaled a long breath. “If we can.”

  She laid next to him and urged her brother to rest too.

  Running Wolf shook his head. “Not yet.”

  A boy sang a sorrowful song, and another joined in.

  Quiet Thunder closed her eyes, wishing the boat’s loud noise would stop so they could sleep. She wanted to get out of this hot room, off this steamboat. She wished Pratt had never come to her village.

  ****

  Light seeped through the high windows. Captain Pratt opened the door, and Miss Mather walked in. “Wake up,” she said. “We’re almost there.”

  Bleary-eyed, Black Bear sat up. Like most of the others, he’d hardly slept all night because of the noise.

  As the white woman clapped to rouse everyone, Black Bear nudged Quiet Thunder, and let his hand slide across her arm. Anyone else might have thought it accidental. A thrill went through him as she met his gaze with a shy smile, and brought back memories of their night beneath the stars. Sadness tinged his happiness as he remembered their parents so far away. Silently, he prayed to the Great Spirit to watch over them.

  Before Miss Mather passed by, he sat up to roll his blanket. She continued out the door, and closed it behind her.

  The boat slowed, and the rumbling faded. When they bumped to a stop, the sudden loud hiss sounded.

  Quiet Thunder winced and held her ears.

  If they’d been anywhere else, he’d have laughed. Instead, he knelt to prepare his pack. “Finally.”

  When the door opened again, the captain stood beside Miss Mather, who said, “Let’s go.”

  Eager to leave the uncomfortable room, they crowded through the doorway.

  Though chilly after the hot boat, Black Bear breathed in the morning air and walked down the plank to the wharf. Glances of the wasichu men along the dock slowed their work. Some abandoned hauling crates to stand tall, chests puffed out. Others nudged the closest man and leered at the girls. One stubble-faced white sauntered by and winked at Quiet Thunder, and she edged closer to Black Bear.

  Pratt led them down a long street. The agent walked beside Miss Mather. The townspeople watched wide-eyed, ladies covered their mouths with gloved hands. Their eyes held fear and hatred–or worse, pity.

  Quiet Thunder walked beside him, weariness in her slow walk. Finally, they arrived at a building. Beside it sat a wide, flat platform. Beyond that, a large, snakelike line of metal houses seemed to breathe, puffs of steam issuing from a cylinder in front.

  The agent and Miss Mather climbed through a doorway and Pratt waved the children forward.

  Black Bear exchanged a worried glance with Quiet Thunder. To ease her fears, he stood tall and walked ahead. She and Running Wolf stayed close.

  Inside, the agent gestured to seats as each boarded. Running Wolf sat at the end of a seat, and the agent pointed for Quiet Thunder to sit across the aisle. She sat in the first seat but Miss Mather told her to move to the window. With a nervous glance, Quiet Thunder shuffled to the last seat.

  Following quickly, Eagle Elk sat beside her with a wide smile aimed at Black Bear.

  Heat flashed across his skin. Without thinking, he pressed toward them. A worried look from Quiet Thunder eased his fury, but only a little. The teacher pointed toward a seat next to Running Wolf, and he plopped into it.

  After students filled the metal house, Pratt sent the rest into the house linked behind.

  Black Bear tried to ignore Eagle Elk’s shoulder pressing against Quiet Thunder’s. She gazed out the window, where people gathered on the platform.

  After awhile, the train lurched forward with a great hiss. Black Bear’s gasp joined with the rest. Fear gripped him as the engine huffed like a huge buffalo on the run. He grabbed hold of his seat. When he glanced at Quiet Thunder and Running Wolf, they–like everyone else–did the same.

  “It’s going to tip over,” someone said.

  Outside, buildings slid away as if the earth itself moved. Soon they were on the plains, hills in the distance. His stomach churned at the sight of the world flying past. Deer grazing in the fields raised their heads, and though their legs didn’t move, they disappeared from view as if on a blanket pulled away by the Iktomi trickster.

  “We’re going too fast. We’ll die!” said another.

  Panic trickled across Black Bear’s neck as others echoed the cry.

  “We’ll be all right.” Eagle Elk’s voice shook with false bravado.

  Restraining the urge to leap over the heads of those sitting between and wrestle Eagle Elk out of his seat, Black Bear glanced behind them. Everyone sat rigid, fear in their wide eyes.

  When the train slowed, he rose, eager to get off. Miss Mather climbed into the house and told them to wait. “This is the first of many stops. I’ll tell you when we reach Pennsylvania.”

  Heaving a ragged breath, Black Bear sat again.

  Quiet Thunder motioned to Running Wolf. “Move here. I want to move to where you sit.”

  Running Wolf glared. “No.”

  Red tinged her cheeks. “Flying Horse won’t be pleased with you.”

  Her brother raised his chin. “He’s far from here.”

  Though Eagle Elk’s silence matched Black Bear’s, a look of triumph lit his face.

  Seething, Black Bear clenched his jaw to tame his tongue. Helplessness added to her frustration. He couldn’t complain to Prat
t or Miss Mather; neither would approve of Quiet Thunder being close to him.

  A man outside pointed at the metal house, and his jeering tone grated Black Bear’s nerves. The wasichu puckered his lips at one of the girls and laughed. Two other men halted and stared. One joined in the taunts. He reached into his pocket and tossed coins through the window.

  Running Wolf picked up the coins on his lap and threw them back. The men guffawed.

  Black Bear stared ahead. “Pay no attention.” The men sacrificed their dignity; he needed not sacrifice his by responding to their taunts.

  The train hissed and lurched forth. For hours they rode, clutching their seats. At the next stop, whites again gathered to stare. Hungry after the long, harrowing trip, a few of the boys and girl had taken out wasna. When whites laughed, the students hid their meat under their blankets.

  Darkness brought cold that seeped through the window. Black Bear almost missed the hot, dark room on the boat. On the train, fear kept them all awake again–this time, holding their blankets by their teeth, too afraid to let go of their seats.

  Exhausted, Black Bear tugged his blanket close and nestled against the cushioned seat for warmth. His eyes drooped shut, and he let his head rest against the back of the seat, though it bounced. In his dreams, Quiet Thunder laid her head against hers, sighed and nestled close.

  His eyes fluttered open, and he blinked to adjust to the dimness. Across the aisle, Quiet Thunder’s head jostled against Eagle Elk’s shoulder. Black Bear’s heart hollowed, then filled with ice. How could she betray him so? A long time passed before she shifted away, gasped and jerked up from Eagle Elk. With wide eyes, she glanced over.

  Too much to bear, he turned away. If she loved him, she would never allow another man to touch her, let alone touch another willingly. The sting of it forced his eyes closed to shut out the world. More than anything, he wished to fall back into the sweet dream they shared. Everything now seemed like a nightmare.