sound grew louder and soon a chant rose above the drum—yet she couldn’t see anything from her position at the back of the hotel.
“Lizzie!” Rose ran into the room from the hallway. She had been spending the afternoon with Martha, who had invited her to go on a walk. “Come quick! Mr. Jude said I must ask you if I may watch the war dance.”
“War dance?” Elizabeth’s chest tightened at the ominous name. “What are you talking about?”
Rose ran across the room and took Elizabeth’s hand, pulling until they were standing in the hallway. “It’s right outside our front door!” Rose squealed in delight.
“There’s a war dance in front of the hotel?” Concern filled Elizabeth as she raced down the hall with Rose close behind. “Where is Mr. Jude?”
“He’s in the lobby waiting for me.”
They came to the stairs and descended to the lobby, where a crowd of guests had gathered at the windows. Jude stood among them, his gaze directed outside.
Elizabeth lifted Rose and pushed through the crowd. “Pardon me.”
A young man moved aside just as Jude turned toward her.
“Is it all right if I go outside now?” Rose asked.
“No, you may not go outside.” Elizabeth held her sister tight and addressed Jude. “What’s happening?”
“There’s no need to worry. It’s just a war dance.”
“No need to worry!” Her voice was louder than she intended and she glanced around her to find several people looking in her direction. She spoke quieter. “A war dance?”
“It’s not really a war dance. They’ve already been to war and now they’re celebrating.” He stepped aside and motioned out the window. “The Chippewa are not here to hurt us. Have a look.”
Elizabeth walked to the window and looked outside. Directly in front of the Northern a large circle of Indians danced to the rhythm of a drum. A man sat on the ground with a drum positioned in front of him and he beat it with a stick. In the center of the circle, three young women held long poles with hoops at the end. These poles were beautifully ornamented with ribbons and bells and scraps of red cloth. In the outer circle, at least a dozen men and women danced in single file, crouching low and then jerking upright, lifting one foot and then the other. They stepped out on their toes and then came down on their heels in a movement that looked awkward, yet mesmerizingly beautiful at the same time. Their leggings and tunics had tassels and other colorful ornaments dangling from them.
“They wear bells on their clothing, so it makes noises when they dance.” Jude spoke from right behind her. “It really is perfectly safe.”
Someone opened the door and a few people left the lobby to stand on the porch.
“Would you like to go out and see it closer?” he asked.
She put her hand to her throat and shook her head. “No, thank you.”
The noise grew more intense and another peek outside revealed that more Indians had joined the dance and now several townspeople had come out to watch.
Sunshine beat down and the dancers began to glisten with sweat. More than one warrior was among them. Their feathers bounced in their hair and their loincloths rippled around their waists. They looked fierce. If this was a celebration, why did no one look happy?
Some had hatchets hanging from ropes at their waists and more than one wore a rifle slung over his back.
Rose wiggled out of Elizabeth’s arms and tugged on her skirt. “Let’s go out and see, Lizzie.”
“No.” Elizabeth shook her head. “I don’t want you out there.”
“Are you afraid?” Jude asked.
Everything inside her demanded that she run back to her room, lock her doors and cover her ears until the sound went away. But then she remembered his earlier implication that she was too weak to withstand life on the frontier. This was part of that life. She couldn’t show fear now. If she did, she’d just prove him right—and she couldn’t do that.
She straightened her back. “I’m not afraid.”
Rose’s face perked up. “Then we can go?”
Elizabeth glanced outside and saw numerous children in attendance. “I suppose.”
Jude looked surprised for a moment, but then he opened the front door wider. “After you.”
Elizabeth took Rose’s hand and walked through the door with her chin held high, though her knees were shaking beneath her gown.
He watched her closely, the planes of his handsome face quirking into a half smile—something she chose to ignore.
Instead, she skirted past him on the porch and forced herself to watch the dancers.
After he closed the door and joined her, she asked, “What are they celebrating?”
“Victory over their enemy, the Dakota.”
“Why do they celebrate here, and not in their own village?”
“Little Falls sits in a contested zone between the Chippewa and Dakota. They celebrate here to claim the territory—and, I suspect, to keep us aware of their presence. Do you see the young ladies in the center?”
She nodded. The women were beautiful with their dark hair flowing freely to their waists.
“Each hoop they carry represents the death of an enemy warrior. In this case, there were three Dakota who were killed in their recent raid.”
A shudder ran the length of Elizabeth’s spine.
Rose strained to leave her side, but Elizabeth held her sister’s hand tight. “It’s time to go inside, Rose.”
Jude turned with her. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She shook her head, her whole body ill. How could they celebrate killing?
He took a step closer. “Are you all right?”
No, she wasn’t all right. She was terribly frightened. Why had she thought this place was the answer to all her prayers? Things had been so much safer in Rockford. Never once had she seen an Indian victory dance. Here, Jude and everyone else acted as if it was a common occurrence.
She glanced into his face and saw his concern. He truly thought she was too weak for life in Little Falls—and he should know. What other atrocities would she face?
But what were her choices? She had to succeed here, because she and her sisters had nothing in Rockford to return to. She would have to pull herself together. A strong woman wouldn’t behave like this. “I’m fine.” She straightened her shoulders and forced herself to look back at the dancers.
“Are you sure? You don’t have to watch.”
Rose moved her head this way and that to get a better view of the dancers, so Elizabeth picked her up to see over everyone’s heads. “Yes, I’m sure.”
He nodded, but didn’t move away from her. After a few moments, he spoke. “Despite how this looks, they are friendly.”
She didn’t respond. How could she? She had little comprehension of Indian life.
“Their enemies are the Dakota in southern Minnesota, not us,” he continued. “They fight back and forth. The deaths they’re celebrating are the restitution they’ve gained for the death of three of their warriors from a few weeks ago.” He put his hand on the small of her back. “I really am sorry I frightened you. Would you like to go back inside?”
His touch surprised her—not only because he reached out to comfort her, but because it was so tender.
His brown eyes were full of compassion, and a strange feeling stirred within her.