The River Run: The Legend of big heart - Book 3
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About this ebook
The students’ beautiful long hair is cut, and they are forbidden to speak their native language. Even the slightest infraction is severely punished. At the height of hopelessness, Alfred gets a ghostly visit from beyond the grave, telling him to run to the river. With a bounty on their heads, Alfred and his friends Orson and Junior plunge into a harrowing quest for freedom.
The boys must rely on their instincts and intelligence as their journey takes them to Sioux City, Iowa. Here they find work at a carnival, but their jobs lead them into the underground world of gangsters and crime, and ultimately to Alfred’s missing parents.
Read more from Alfreda Beartrack Algeo
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The River Run - Alfreda Beartrack-Algeo
World Upside Down
ctober came on with splashes of yellow and orange. It was the first moon of winter 1931 and the day that my world turned upside down. It started out like any other Monday read-a-thon
at Iron Nation Day School. We all looked forward to the reading event and the treat our teacher, Mrs. Red Elk, would bring us: her famous peanut brittle. In all our excitement, no one could imagine how the day would end.
Some of my younger classmates brought stuffed animals to our event to use as props. Jerry and Jamie Bull Elk even brought their pet mice, Johnny and Timmy, in a cardboard shoebox. They said the mice would add to their story, The Tale of Johnny Town-Mouse by Beatrix Potter. Mrs. Red Elk made sure the shoebox lid was closed and put the mice on a shelf behind the door. They were creating quite a stir with the girls.
My friend Sage and I were taking turns reading out loud from The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams. I felt silly, but it was one of Sage’s favorite childhood stories. Besides, I knew the younger students would enjoy it. Sage held a raggedy stuffed rabbit that had one of its red button eyes missing, and I was wearing a black stovepipe hat. I could tell Mrs. Red Elk was pleased with our presentation by the encouraging nods she was giving us.
Whew, the end! We took a bow following a loud round of applause from the class. I couldn’t wait to sit down before Mrs. Red Elk started picking on me. It never failed.
Mrs. Red Elk said, "That was wonderful. Thank you both. Now, Alfred, can you share with the class one of the lessons The Velveteen Rabbit teaches us?"
I muttered, Ummmm . . . um.
I desperately scanned the faces of my classmates for some help. Lilly? Beatrice? Margaret? Todd? Tim? ... Nothing? Darn! Even my best friends, Orson and Junior, were no help. Shucks! They wouldn’t make eye contact with me. I was on my own.
Sage came to my rescue. May I answer for Alfred?
Whew! Just in time. Sage always knew when I was in a bind. It was like we had an invisible connection.
Mrs. Red Elk said, "Okay, Sage, help Alfred out and tell us what lesson you see in the story of The Velveteen Rabbit."
Sage said, I think the story teaches us that we need to trust others even if we might get hurt. Because deep inside, everybody wants to be liked and loved and wanted and needed. Some days are sad, and some are happy, but that is what makes life real. And maybe that is what makes us real too.
I felt my face turning red. I knew Sage was talking to me. She knew that I was afraid of being hurt and didn’t trust anyone, especially adults. Now everybody in the room knew it too.
Thump! Crash! The heavy wooden door of the schoolhouse slammed open and hit the back wall, and three men stormed in. I recognized the dark blue uniforms. They were the Indian police from the Office of Indian Affairs. Sage and I quickly took our seats.
The shoebox flew off the shelf from the force of the door. Whoa! Two elated mice scurried across the floor right toward us. The room was in utter chaos. Everyone, including me, pulled our feet up while the Indian police looked on in confusion.
The mice disappeared into the woodpile stacked near the woodstove at the back of the classroom.
Mrs. Red Elk said to the class, Students, please calm down and stay in your seats.
We all sat at our desks and silently stared at the police officers, wondering what was going to happen next.
Turning to the officers, Mrs. Red Elk said, May I help you?
One of the police officers stepped forward. He looked like he was the police captain. No, you have not done anything wrong. We are here on orders to board up this school. You need to take your students and leave the school grounds immediately.
Mrs. Red Elk asked, On whose orders?
The police officer said, The Office of Indian Affairs of the United States government has proclaimed this order!
The officers ordered us into the front parking area on the other side of the fence. I felt like a captured animal being prepared for slaughter.
I fidgeted from one foot to the other, not knowing what to expect.
Two police officers with an armful of boards, nails, and a hammer walked toward the front door of the schoolhouse but stopped abruptly in surprise. Mrs. Red Elk stood with outstretched arms, blocking the schoolhouse door.
She said, I will not leave! This is unlawful! The children have a right to a decent education like any other child in this country.
The officer carrying the hammer dropped it on the ground and grabbed Mrs. Red Elk.
Horrified, we watched in shock as Mrs. Red Elk scuffled with the officer. Her courageous attempt was short-lived. Within seconds the officer had her pinned to the ground.
Sage, still holding the stuffed rabbit, screamed, Alfred! Please stop them! Please, don’t let them hurt my aunt!
Jerry and Jamie Bull Elk were just as upset. Alfred, could you please go get our pet mice for us? They might get hurt. Please?
I felt helpless. My feet wouldn’t move; they felt like two lead anvils.
Mrs. Red Elk stood up and brushed herself off. Limping and bruised, she joined us on the other side of the front gate.
I thought, How did everything change from calm to chaos in a split second? Is this an example of the lesson Sage described from the story of The Velveteen Rabbit—that life can be both painful and beautiful at the same time?
A lone stuffed rabbit lay in the dirt beneath the flagpole. Above, the United States flag whipped and snapped in the breeze. I thought, This is the same flag that we pledge our allegiance to at the beginning of every school day. Home of the free and land of the brave.
Yes, we might be brave, but as Lakota people, we sure are not free.
What is going on here?
It was my grandfather, Thomas Plenty Buffalo. Grandfather was part of a crowd of concerned community members and parents who had gathered around us in the school parking area.
The police captain made certain to keep his distance from the crowd. He stepped up on the bumper of his dusty government car and waved a sheet of paper in the air. This policy I hold in my hand is from the United States government. It states that all Native American students of school age need to be attending a school approved by the secretary of the Office of Indian Affairs. Whereas Iron Nation Day School does not meet the secretary’s criteria, from this day forth, the school will remain closed.
A low murmur spread through the crowd.
Grandfather asked, Sir, what criteria are you referring to?
The police captain said, You will need to take the details up with Superintendent Wright. All we know is that we are here to deliver the papers and board the school up. You have a week to get your children in a government-approved school or face the consequences.
New Rules
he police captain handed the paper down to Grandfather. Here is a list of approved schools. You all have a good day. Best we get back to the agency before sundown.
The police officers drove away in their cars, leaving a trail of dust. As soon as the dust cleared from the last government car driving down the hill, the crowd erupted in a frenzy.
Without a minute to spare, my grandfather stepped up into the box of his wagon to address the crowd. Take heed, my relatives! It is important to stay calm and go along with the policy. At least for now. Believe me, we will get to the bottom of this.
Thomas, what Indian policy are they referring to?
said Harvey Two Crow.
Grandfather answered, "Kill the Indian, Save the Man policy, Harvey. Heck, it’s the same policy that sent your two younger brothers out east to Carlisle Indian Industrial School in Pennsylvania to learn the white man’s ways. If I remember right, only one returned and the other one stayed behind, buried deep in the school cemetery."
Harvey Two Crow lowered his head and nodded sadly.
Mrs.