Free Chickadee by Louise Erdrich

Mother stamped into the room, right over Seraphica’s clean floor. She held a pair of overalls, a mended shirt, and leather tie-up shoes.
    â€œBring in the washtub,” she told Seraphica. “I’ve got the water heated up. I’ll use your scrub brush.”
    â€œOh, Mother, no! It’s much too rough!”
    â€œHe’s got the dirt of the ancients on him, caked in,” said Mother. “I’ll use some of my strong lye soap.”
    â€œThat stings!” Seraphica made a face. “Oh, you poor boy!”
    Chickadee saw her look of concern, and warily stepped backward. Mother Anthony shook the clothes at him.
    â€œThese weren’t easy to get! You’d better appreciate them!”
    Chickadee was wearing a pair of soft skin trousers, a buckskin shirt with fringe down the sides, which his mother had decorated with porcupine quills. His moccasins were lined with fur and kept his feet warm, while the leggings he wore doubled the insulation of his trousers. He had on a warm woolen vest and, in addition, he usually wore a pair of fur mitts and a fur-lined hood. But when Babiche had stolen him, he’d been sleeping without his hood and mitts. It was lucky that the night had been cold and he’d kept on his vest and moccasins. From the way Mother gestured, Chickadee began to understand that she expected him to exchange his warm clothes for these poor rags.
    He stepped back farther, until he was standing against the wall. Seraphica carried a large wooden tub into the room. Another of the Sisters brought a bucket of water. She poured it into the tub. Mother left and came back with a blanket and a steaming kettle and a strange smelling waxy yellow cake. She poured the steaming kettle of water into the tub and then pointed at the tub, at Chickadee, the tub, Chickadee. He edged along the side of the room, toward the door. But Seraphica was there, smiling.
    â€œNow, don’t be scared,” she said. “It won’t last forever. And you’ll feel so good and clean when it is done.”
    Seraphica took his hand and drew him over to the tub. She tugged off his vest and then began to take off his shirt. Chickadee struggled out of her grip, but Mother was there and the other Sister, too.
    â€œHelp!” cried Mother.
    Holding on to Chickadee, she and the others unlaced his moccasins, his leggings, removed his shirt, his pants. They rolled everything into a ball, and then plunged him straight into the hot water.
    Although at that moment Chickadee was covered with ground-in dirt, it was because he’d been living with Babiche and Batiste. Omakayas kept her boys very clean, and their clothing as well. They bathed in cold water every single day, even in the winter, when they used half-melted snow. Being dunked in steaming hot water was a shock, and Chickadee yelled out in fear. But Mother had the scrub brush out and was sawing it across his back, leaving painful welts into which she rubbed the harsh lye soap. Now Chickadee cried out in pain.
    Sister Seraphica tugged at Mother Anthony’s wrists.
    â€œOh, Mother Anthony, please! You’re hurting him!”
    â€œDon’t be disrespectful, girl!” cried Mother Anthony.
    Chickadee struggled, twisting and kicking to get away. But before Chickadee could wiggle away, Mother Anthony snatched up a pair of scissors to cut off his braids. When Chickadee saw the sharp scissors in her hands, he was sure that he was going to die.
    With a desperate lunge, he ripped himself from the Sisters’ grip and popped out of the tub. He grabbed his ball of clothes. Then, with a tremendous leap, he cleared the table and raced out the door. He didn’t stop once he got outside, but kept on running across the muddy yard and on into the safety of the woods. And even then, as the brush closed over behind him, he kept on running. With the ball of clothing under his arm, he sped as fast as he could through the underbrush, in which direction