Before long, she had to put away her drawing things to cook supper. She lifted the three-legged cast-iron spider from its hook on one of the wagon bows; it was deep enough to make soup for two people. Spider in hand, she jumped to the ground, took a few steps, and stopped in mid-stride.

A group of Indians stood in a loose semicircle between the wagon and the fire.

Hanna had seen Indians from the wagon several times, but always at a distance. At such moments, Papa seemed watchful but not particularly worried. He told her that the government had forced the Indians in this region, most of them members of the Sioux tribe, off the wide-open prairie and onto tracts of land reserved for them. They were not allowed to leave that land without special permission from the reservation’s Indian agent.

Hanna looked over the group quickly. Three women, the eldest with gray-streaked hair. A girl a few years younger than Hanna, and two little girls. The women were wearing faded blankets or shawls. They carried cloth sacks or bundles; one had a baby tied to her back.

Mothers and daughters. Hanna thought at once of Mama. What would she say or do if she were here?

“Hello,” she said. “I was just going to make soup. Would you like some?”

Mama had been a great believer in soup. She could conjure delicious soups from nothing but scraps and bones, and she had taught Hanna the secret: One strongly flavored ingredient could make the whole pot of leftovers tasty, and you didn’t need much of it. Dried mushrooms, cabbage, and garlic were all good. So was dried fish.

Hanna used the big pot instead of the spider. She cut up the potatoes smaller than usual, so they would cook more quickly. The Indians sat on the ground near the fire. Hanna was anxious to serve them, but she forced herself to wait until the potatoes were properly cooked through.

She also found herself hoping that Papa wouldn’t return anytime soon. He might frighten them. Or maybe the other way round.

Hanna had enough spoons for her guests, but only four bowls. The oldest of the Sioux women seemed to be the group’s leader, so Hanna served her first. She glanced down at the soup in her bowl, then looked up, pursed her lips, and motioned with her chin toward Hanna.

Hanna understood at once. She wants to be sure that I eat too.

She filled two more bowls and handed them out for the rest of the group to share. The fourth bowl was for herself. She sat on the wagon steps to eat, near the group but not with them.

The women talked quietly among themselves.

—Oyu’l waste

—Sku’ya sni

—Nina ota mnisku’ya kte hchin