Eye of Flame Read Free

townsfolk would look from one of them to me, as if making a comparison of some sort, and I would feel uncomfortable, almost affronted.
     
    We came to a town in Dakota. But instead of moving on, we stayed for several days. Gus began to change, and spent more time in saloons.
    One night, he came to my room and pounded on the door. I let him in quickly, afraid he would wake everyone else in the boarding house. He closed the door, then threw himself at me, pushing me against the wall as he fumbled at my nightdress. I was repelled by the smell of sweat and whiskey, his harsh beard and warm breath. I struggled with him as quietly as I could, and at last pushed him away. Weakened by drink and the struggle, he collapsed across my bed; soon he was snoring. I sat with him all night, afraid to move.
    Gus said nothing next morning as we prepared to leave. We rode for most of the day while he drank; this time, he did not sing. That afternoon, he threw me off the wagon. By the time I was able to get to my feet, Gus was riding off; dust billowed from the wheels. I ran after him, screaming; he did not stop.
     
    I was alone on the plain. I had no money, no food and water. I could walk back to the town, but what would become of me there? My mind was slipping; as the sky darkened, I thought I saw a ring glow near me.
    The wind died; the world became silent. In the distance, someone was walking along the road toward me. As the figure drew nearer, I saw that it was a woman. Her face was coppery, and her hair black; she wore a long yellow robe and a necklace of small blue feathers.
    Approaching, she took my hand, but did not speak. Somehow I sensed that I was safe with her. We walked together for a while; the moon rose and lighted our way. “What shall I do?” I said at last. “Where is the nearest town? Can you help me?”
    She did not answer, but instead held my arm more tightly; her eyes pleaded with me. I said, “I have no money, no place to go.” She shook her head slowly, then released me and stepped back.
    The sudden light almost blinded me. The sun was high overhead, but the woman’s face was shadowed. She held out her hand, beckoning to me. A ring shone around her, and then she was gone.
    I turned, trembling with fear. I was standing outside another drab, clapboard town; my clothes were covered with dust. I had imagined it all as I walked through the night; somehow my mind had conjured up a comforting vision. I had dreamed as I walked; that was the only possible explanation. I refused to believe that I was mad. In that way, I denied the woman.
     
    I walked into the town and saw a man riding toward the stable in a wagon. He was dressed in a long black robe—a priest. I ran to him; he stopped and waited for me to speak.
    “Father,” I cried out. “Let me speak to you.”
    His kind brown eyes gazed down at me. He was a short, stocky man whose face had been darkened by the sun and lined by prairie winds.
    “What is it, my child?” He peered at me more closely. “Are you from the reservation here?”
    “No. My name is Catherine Lemaître, I come from the east. My companion abandoned me, and I have no money.”
    “I cannot help you, then. I have little money to give you.”
    “I do not ask for charity.” I had sold enough worthless medicine with Gus to know what to say to this priest. I kept my hands on his seat so that he could not move without pushing me away. “I was sent to school, I can read and write and do figures. I want work, a place to stay. I am a Catholic, Father.” I reached into my pocket and removed the rosary I had kept, but rarely used. “Surely there is something I can do.”
    He was silent for a few moments. “Get in, child,” he said at last. I climbed up next to him.
     
    His name was Father Morel and he had been sent by his superiors to help the Indians living in the area, most of whom were Sioux. He had a mission near the reservation and often traveled to the homes of the Indians to tell them about