Heart of the Sandhills Read Online Free Page A

You’ll see.” He called out to Reverand Donohue before turning back to say, “You change your mind about comin’ over, you’re welcome any time. Marjorie makes real good pie. It’s worth a visit.” Without waiting for a response, he headed for the Reverend.
    The Reverend Elmer Donohue advised a worried Jeb Grant to pray. Being new to the West and having never seen an Indian himself, but having heard his share of stories, he also suggested that perhaps Brother Marsh was right and that the, urn, Dakota guests currently staying on the Grant farm could be encouraged to seek another domicile in the spring. Jeb listened to the reverend’s meaningless, misinformed litany, finished his shopping at Ludlow’s, and headed home, thoroughly discouraged.

    Although the early snow melted within a few days, its arrival infused every settler with an uneasy sense that they had better be about getting prepared for the onslaught of an early and harsh winter. After all, they reminded one another, hadn’t the squirrels been lining their nests with an unusually thick layer of leaves? And weren’t the horses’ winter coats coming in thicker and sooner than normal? In the wake of such signs, Robert Lawrence decided to take Nancy along for what he expected would be their last trip into town before spring. When he returned, Robert pulled his team up in front of Daniel and Gen’s cabin.
    Daniel met them at the wagon. “Gen’s up at the Grants’ helping Marjorie make some apple pies,” he said to Nancy. “I’ll get her.”
    “I’ll walk up there,” Nancy said. She nodded at Robert and headed off up the road.
    “Wait,” Daniel called out. “Let us drive you.”
    Nancy put one hand on her belly. She laughed. “The baby won’t be here for many moons.” Her face grew sad, and inwardly Daniel felt a sympathetic pang, wishing he had not been the cause of bringing her two lost children to Nancy’s mind. But Nancy recovered quickly and cast a bright smile in his direction. “You men need to talk. Gen and I will be back in time to make you something to eat.” Without waiting, Nancy headed off up the road.
    “What is it?” Daniel asked his friend, frowning.
    Robert reached into the wagon for a newspaper and held it out to Daniel, who leaned against the wagon and began to read the article Robert pointed out.
    I have recently learned, with much surprise, that the Sioux Indians who were the perpetrators of the Minnesota Massacre of 1862 have been moved from their location at Crow Creek down into one of the settled counties of Nebraska, directly opposite white settlements in Dakota.
    You are aware that these Indians murdered more than one thousand defenseless men, women, and children in the state of Minnesota. Now an order has been signed for the release of those hostile savages and they have been turned loose to seek revenge by a system of robbery, rapine, and murder upon our unprotected citizens . . . If these Indians are allowed to remain near our settlements, our citizens will either be compelled to abandon their homes for the security of their lives and property or wage a war of extermination against them . . .
    When Daniel finished reading, Robert spoke up. “The new reservation is in Nebraska. Plenty of timber, good land, they say.”
    “We aren’t reservation Indians,” Daniel said abruptly. “Not anymore.
    “Maybe we should be,” Robert answered. “If the new reservation is good. If—”
    Daniel interrupted him, quoting from the newspaper article. “If the whites in the area don’t ‘wage a war of extermination against the savages’?”
    “There are more letters in that paper,” Robert said. “Many of the settlers here are beginning to worry about us. There’s a letter from Quinn. He calls us hellhounds .”
    Daniel sighed. Leaning against the wagon, he studied the earth at his feet for a moment. “Elliot Leighton writes that Congress is going to give at least some of the Dakota scouts farms. He hopes that