Corn Flower on the Great Plains: Second in a Fiction Series Based on the Four Seasons

By James D. Lester

In this second book in the series based on the four seasons, Corn Flower, an eleven-year-old Native American girl and a member of the Kansa tribe living along the Cottonwood River in the 1820s, is proud that her father White Plume has been selected as a tribal chief. With the guidance of two older tribal women, she also takes great pride in learning the skill of wild crafting to find herbs, roots, and leaves to use as medicines. After the harvest celebration of the corn crop, the members of the tribe head out to hunt for the great, shaggy bison. With the success of the hunt, much meat is prepared by all members of the tribe for the cold, winter months. One day while tending her herd of goats, Corn Flower and her best friend Night Sparrow find a stray horse wearing a saddle alone on the prairie. To discover the owner, Corn Flower and Night Sparrow travel to the trading post with their fathers White Plume and Red Branch. After leaving the trading post, Corn Flower nearly drowns while trying to return the lost horse at the nearby soldier fort. Saved by her father, she listens to White Plume’s story of how he came to know Kicking Swan and married her. The whole tribe rejoices with a naming celebration for a little girl of the tribe and for the marriage of Corn Flower’s brother Wanji to the maiden Running Dove. The story ends with the first heavy snowfall and a fun time in the winter whiteness with her brothers Red Cloud and Two Bears. Includes Readers Guide.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sunstone Press
• Release date: Feb 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781611395709

James D. Lester

James D. Lester, Jr., PhD is a veteran English instructor with over thirty-seven years of experience as a secondary teacher at Alpharetta High School and a college instructor at Gwinnett Technical College, both located near Atlanta, Georgia. He is also the author of the popular texts Writing Research Papers, 16th edition and The Research Paper Handbook, 4th edition. In this third in his series based on the four seasons, Lester has again tapped into his unique outlook about the joys and challenges of Native American life in Kansas during the early 1800s. Much like children in modern culture, Corn Flower pursues an endless quest for adventure as she cherishes the closeness of her family and the fun times and trials that she faces with her best friend Night Sparrow.

Book preview

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Corn Flower on the Great Plains

Special thanks is extended to my artist June Hyde and to Grace Hirsch for acting as a reading consultant.

Dedication

To my two lovely granddaughters, Peyton and Paris.

May your hearts always seek adventure.

Preface

In this second book in the series based on the four seasons, Corn Flower, an eleven-year-old Native American girl and a member of the Kansa tribe living along the Cottonwood River in the 1820s, is proud that her father White Plume has been selected as a tribal chief. She is a devoted daughter to her parents White Plume and Kicking Swan. With the guidance of two older tribal women, Corn Flower learns the skill of wild crafting to find herbs, roots, and leaves to use as medicines. The Kansa celebrate the corn harvest and go on a hunt for the great, shaggy bison. After a trip to the trading post, Corn Flower nearly drowns in the river at Neosho Falls, but she is saved by her father. The whole tribe rejoices with a naming celebration as well as the marriage of Corn Flower’s brother Wanji to the maiden Running Dove. The story ends with the first heavy snowfall and a fun time in the winter whiteness with her brothers Red Cloud and Two Bears.

As a grandparent to two wonderful girls, I wanted to share an adventure story with them like the tales that inspired me as a boy. Moreover, I want my novel to leave my grandchildren and all middle readers in grades four to seven with an uplifting adventure that includes folk stories to enrich a young person’s moral compass.

I have always had an affinity for the kinship of friends and family while growing up. Books were abundant in my early life, and the simple tales of adventure with an ethical twist helped me to grow into a caring and compassionate person. This tale is close to my heart, for I

was a Kansas boy who played in the vast expanses of the Great Plains.

I encourage each parent to read along with their children. Corn Flower is not just a character—she is a sketch of life from a simpler time of growing and discovering. In like manner, this novel can inspire today’s young reader who faces many trials and obstacles in our modern world.

This novel is dedicated to my two lovely granddaughters, Peyton and Paris. Heartfelt appreciation is also extended to their parents, my son Caleb and his wife Jessica, as well as my daughter Sarah and her husband Logan. Their love and patience made this project possible.

1 Proud Daughter

Bright streaks of sunshine melted the low morning fog that cast a hazy shadow over the Kansa village. The lingering mist mingled with the smoke lifting from the lingering embers of the tribal fire that had glowed so bright the night before. Corn Flower stood at the doorway of her family’s lodge. Already at her daily tasks, Corn Flower’s mother Kicking Swan picked up wooden bowls left at the reed mats where their family had sat during the time of sharing, singing, and dancing to celebrate the selection of White Plume and Red Branch as the new tribal leaders.

May I help, Mother?

Yes Corn Flower. That will be good. Together, mother and daughter rinsed the bowls at the washing pot and pulled the reed mats from the fireside back to the front of their lodge.

Will you please go to the nests to gather eggs from our hens? I will add sticks to our fire to begin breakfast. Then we can have fresh eggs and corn cakes for our morning meal.

Yes, Mother.

And Corn Flower, you can let the hens and the chicks out to peck and search for seeds upon the ground.

Yes. We probably kept them up late last night with our celebration.

It is true. It was a late night with many happy songs.

Corn Flower stepped to the back of her lodge where the chickens stirred and flapped their wings as they balanced at the edge of their nests. One by one, she lifted the hens and placed them upon the ground. Immediately, the birds began pecking and hunting for seed grains. As she released the birds and the several chicks that had recently hatched, she again sang the tribal song that had been repeated many times on the previous evening.

We are the Kansa, people of the plains. We are the Kansa, people of water and the south wind. We dance in the moonlight and rise with the sun. We are the Kansa . . .

With the long-handled basket in her left hand, Corn Flower reached into every nest with her right to take out a total of seven eggs. With eggs in the basket, she returned to her mother who was patting out flat, round corn cakes for the cooking stone.

I have seven eggs, Mother.

That is well, my daughter.

Corn Flower?

Yes, my Mother?

I heard you singing. Are you happy today?

Yes. I am proud, for Father has been named as a leader of our people.

I share your joy. Your father is a good man. He is a good father to you and your brothers. He is a kind, thoughtful man. Along with Night Sparrow’s father Red Branch, he will be a good leader for the people.

Just then a figure appeared at the doorway of the lodge. It was White Plume, father of Corn Flower and husband of Kicking Swan.

I also hope he will be a good leader. White Plume smiled to his wife and Corn Flower.

Good morning, Father.

Good morning, my daughter.

You could have stayed in bed for a few minutes longer, Kicking Swan smiled as she looked up from the sparking embers of the fireside.

I would have rested, but a songbird outside our lodge was singing the ‘Song of the Kansa’.

It was me, Father. I am sorry.

Do not worry, my daughter. You make me a proud Father.

And I am proud for Night Sparrow’s family also.

Eggs were cracked and dropped into a bowl as Corn Flower’s mother knelt at the cooking fire.

Are our sons up and moving, my husband?

They are not. Let them sleep for a while longer. They were enjoying the dancing, singing, and tribal stories last evening. They will wake up very soon.

As you like.

Kicking Swan worked at the cooking stone then lifted scrambled eggs onto a corn cake and handed it to Corn Flower.

This will be good, Mother.

You must be full before you lead the goats to the hillside. Here is another cake for a morning snack.

Thank you, Mother. Mother?

Yes, my daughter?

I saw Wanji dancing at the fire with a girl last evening.

White Plume’s eyebrows raised as he looked at his daughter.

Yes. It is true, Corn Flower, her mother replied.

It was Running Dove, the daughter of Tashunka and Brown Loon.

White Plume nodded in agreement Do not tease your brother, Corn Flower. It was just dancing.

Yes, Father. I will go now with Bully goat and the other animals to the riverside.

Thank you, daughter. Go safely.

Corn Flower stepped to the gate of the goat pen, lifted the leather strap, and released the goats. Together they charged forward toward the river, sending the chickens scurrying out of the way. With her walking staff in hand and a corn cake with scrambled eggs in the other, Corn Flower followed the thirsty herd, her bare feet pacing across the hard dirt.

Once at the riverside, the goats stepped to the gentle part of the stream to dip their heads and to lap at the cool water with their tongues. Once she was finished eating her breakfast, Corn Flower cupped her hand to splash her face with water and to drink before moving up to sit on the riverbank. She gave a few more minutes to allow the goats time to fill their throats and bellies with water.

Above her, Corn Flower looked at the leaves of the cottonwood trees that were just beginning to turn from bright green to pale green and yellow.

It will not be long before the leaves fall and the black geese fly south, Corn Flower said to herself. We must also delight in the golden harvest of our corn crop very soon.

Come. Corn Flower called to her goats, and Bully goat raised his head, water dripping from his shaggy beard. As if knowing what she meant, Bully led the other goats up the trail from the river toward the hillside.

Corn Flower waited on the bank of the river for the last goat to trot up the embankment. From where she was standing, Corn Flower saw movement near a large bush far across the river. A mother coyote was pawing at something on the ground. It was then that a small head emerged from a hole in the ground as one and then another small coyote pup walked to their mother. With their paws raised, the pups rolled with one another in the dirt.

The mother coyote leads her little ones as a proud protector. And I am a proud leader for my family of goats. Corn Flower reached down to help the last little newborn goat over the dirt