Bright Arrow proudly disclosed how his band of mighty warriors had easily overcome the Bluecoats and destroyed them, conquering them with only two minor injuries to his own men. Although she said nothing and her expression remained calm, he perceived that his mother did not agree with the necessity of his actions, for she disliked the raids and their bloody outcomes. She was definitely concerned with more than his personal safety and survival.
When Bright Arrow had fully recounted the events of his raid, he gingerly spoke of the challenge and death of the Cheyenne brave. He hastily explained his reasoning and motives. Gray Eagle and Shalee listened to the tale about the white girl who was now in their tepee. Most noticeably, Gray Eagle’s expression grew wary and glacial, while Shalee’s revealed astonishment and inexplicable anguish. When Bright Arrow finished his narration, he silently waited for their response, which seemed too slow in coming…
After taking a moment to absorb this incredible event, his father questioned, “You killed a Cheyenne brother to possess a white girl?”
The choice of Gray Eagle’s words proclaimed his opinion. Even the challenge for a mere white girl was reprehensible! Bright Arrow carefully selected his words of explanation, “There was more at stake than who would claim the white girl, Father. Standing Bear openly taunted me. He tried to shame the son of Wanmdi Hota. He wished to torture and kill this innocent girl. His treatment of white slaves is no secret. I saw no reason for her pain and death. I did as I thought my father would have done; I reasoned with him first. When he refused a truce and continued to mock me, I was forced to fight and slay him. I could not dishonor myself or my name. The other warriors agree with what I had to do. Was this not right, my Father?” he asked.
“What of the white girl? Now that you have shed Indian blood to possess her, do you plan to keep her in our tepee? Is she still as desirable as she was before the blood of Standing Bear was upon her hands?” he asked, a strange look upon his face.
Bright Arrow was alarmed and perplexed by the odd tone in Gray Eagle’s voice. He slowly answered the question, “The girl still pleases me, Father. I will keep her for a time. She is different from the other whites. She does not see me through the eyes of an enemy. Hatred for me does not live in her heart.”
Gray Eagle stiffened; his jet eyes narrowed. “Why is this girl unlike the many others you have seen and taken?” Something about his father disturbed Bright Arrow, but he did not know why.
“I do not know, Father,” he replied honestly. “There is something about her spirit which calls out to mine. She does not behave or speak as other white-eyes. She is gentle and fragile. I feel responsible for her life and safety. I spared and protected her. Why, I do not know,” he confessed.
An unknown light shone brightly within Gray Eagle’s gaze. “You are saying this girl is special?” he queried in a deceptively calm voice; yet, his displeasure was obvious in his stormy eyes and tense frame.
“Yes, Father. I wish to keep her until I can understand what great magic she possesses. I must know why my spirit is warmed by hers.” He stood proud and respectful before his parents. He answered candidly, even though he secretly wished he could deny them the whole truth.
“What did the others say when you took this girl for yourself?” his father pressed, alert to any change in his son’s expression and tone.
“They, too, wanted her. They made many offers to buy her, but I refused them…for now.” He smugly boasted, “When you see her, you will understand why they did not mock me for desiring her.”
“What does this girl say about her enslavement to you?” he asked. “Does she know your secret?”
“As always, I pretended not to understand her tongue. I spoke only my English name. This girl knows many Indian words and signing. She has wisely accepted her captivity.”
“She knows signing?” Gray Eagle pressed, intrigued.
“It is a strange kind, but I could understand most of it. The whites she travelled with were bad to her. It seemed she was their prisoner in some unknown way. One called her uncle was going to sell her to many Bluecoats for their pleasure. Another white-eyes with many yellow stripes upon his garment was trying to force her onto his mat when I killed him and took her. She was unhappy with them; she was much afraid. She is very beautiful and young. But with me, it was not the same. She accepted me and trusted me. She clung to me as a small child for protection and in open desire as a woman. It pleased the other braves to view such prowess in their leader.”
“She does not resist your power over her?” Gray Eagle’s eyes probed those of Bright Arrow. He was alarmed by the sincerity and warmth in them.
“She is wise and obedient. I could read the pain in her eyes when she learned of my hold upon her. She no longer trusts me, but she does not defy me,” he announced, unwittingly hinting at his prior gentleness and leniency with her.
Gray Eagle then asked the question he most dreaded, “Had she known another man before you, my son?” He knew from experience the undeniable magic of first possessing a special woman.
“No, Father; I was the first to take her. I tricked her into responding to me. I thought it a cunning punishment,” he murmured ruefully.
“How did you take her?” That odd tone again laced Gray Eagle’s voice.
As feared, Bright Arrow lowered his gaze in guilt and shame. “I was not rough with her, my father. Her mind and body were pure; she did not guess my trick. She came to me as no other female ever has. I could not find it in my heart to hurt her body, only her heart,” he reluctantly admitted.
“Tell me all that passed between you,” Gray Eagle sternly demanded, his irritation and anxiety steadily mounting as more vexing facts came to light.
After Bright Arrow had related his tale, Gray Eagle murmured to himself, “I see…”
Bright Arrow assumed it was best to withhold his strong emotional feelings for this girl, for he did not understand them himself. “Unless you forbid it, Father, I will keep her for a time,” he stated, knowing he would comply with his father’s wishes. “She is called Rebecca.”
To conceal her modesty during their intimate discussion, Shalee had been standing with her back to them. Finally, she could no longer be silent and a cry escaped her lips. She whirled to stare at her son. Bright Arrow’s attention was instantly drawn to his mother. Her face was very pale; her green eyes were wide and filled with a haunted look. She seemed oblivious to his presence. Her trembling hand went to her parted lips as if she were preventing some torrent of words from coming forth.
“Mother? Why do you look so pale and distressed?” he questioned, puzzled by this curious and highly emotional reaction to his having taken a white captive.
Shalee swooned; Gray Eagle rushed forward to catch her limp body. He embraced her tightly and tenderly until she recovered her wits. Panic flooded her sea-green eyes, as she looked up at Gray Eagle. Something in his expression hastily silenced whatever she was about to say or to ask. Their eyes met and spoke without words. Bright Arrow witnessed this mysterious communication and wondered at its meaning.
“Are you ill, Mother?” he anxiously probed.
She smiled sadly and shook her head. “No, my son. Tell me more about this girl. What does she look like?”
Bright Arrow smiled and stated, “She is small; I could hold her up with one hand. Her hair is the color of yours. Her eyes are those of the she-wolf’s; but they can soften to the ones of a doe. Her skin is darker than yours. She almost appears an Indian. Even for a white-eyes, she is beautiful. Her spirit is what makes her stand out against other whites. She is gentle and speaks softly like the singing of the stream. She is like a newborn fawn or a fragile desert flower.”
Shalee watched the glow which filled her son’s eyes as he talked of this special girl. Somehow this girl had touched him in some powerful, unique way. Shalee wondered if this was how Gray Eagle had felt about her all those many years ago when he had captured and enslaved her as his white enemy. The girl which her son had just described could have easily been her, nineteen years ago! A paralyzing feeling of dèjá vu washed over Shalee, and she trembled noticeably.
Shalee knew how very strange and unpredictable fate could be. Was it possible that her Bright Arrow had discovered a captive white girl of his own? Was it possible for him to love and desire this woman just as his own father had done long ago. The signs were the same; their actions were the same. Yet, somehow this disturbed her greatly. What would happen if the circumstances of the past and the present fused into one inseparable predicament?
“Tell me, my son; how long will you keep this white girl?” she asked, unable to stop herself. Mystic fingers played an eerie tune upon her nerves and thoughts, its ominous melody echoing intense warnings within her troubled mind.
“I do not know, Mother.” Their eyes met and spoke without words, telling her many things.
Shalee read these tender messages within his gaze, messages which disquieted her, messages of more than physical interest. Who was this girl? How would she alter their lives? Shalee dreaded the answers to those plaguing questions, for she clearly remembered the harsh demands and bitter anguish of Indian enslavement.
Bright Arrow glanced over at his father, then down at his mother. “Does it displease you that I have taken a white captive to my mat?” he anxiously queried, hoping his father would not utter the words of sacrifice which he dreaded to hear and be compelled to obey.
Gray Eagle looked deeply into Shalee’s eyes, knowing his answer was not only for his son’s ears and heart. “What of this girl when the time comes for taking a female of your own kind?” he cautiously began.
“There are many winters between now and then, my father. Could I not enjoy her until I must obey the laws of my people?” he parried his father’s reasoning.
“You say this girl possesses great magic and beauty. What if you cannot part with her when that time comes?” Gray Eagle wisely ventured into the unknown dangers of this matter.
“In time, both will fade. Then, I will send her away,” Bright Arrow nonchalantly voiced the promise he thought he would be able to keep.
“Look at your mother, Bright Arrow. Some women never lose their magic and beauty. Your mother grows more beautiful each moon. Her magic increases with the passing of time. If it is the same with this white slave of yours, you would be unable to give her up…as I could never part with my Shalee,” he reasoned, tenderly eying his lovely wife and her radiant smile.
“But mother is an Indian; Rebecca is white,” Bright Arrow argued, ignorant his claims were untrue.
“In the dark of night upon your mat, do you know and accept this difference? Or does Rebecca become only a woman, your woman?” his father boldly challenged, sending his point hurling home.
A stunned look flickered upon Bright Arrow’s face. He indignantly replied, “I did not forget she is white. Hunwi glowed upon her face, reminding me she was not Indian.” Yet, his hasty statement only entrapped him.
“Hunwi warned you she was our enemy; yet you took her with great gentleness and fiery passion?” Gray Eagle twisted the knife.
Bright Arrow lowered his head, unable to meet the discerning stare of his father’s ebony eyes. “Yes, Father,” he shamefully admitted. “Words say she is my enemy, but her spirit does not,” he added in his defense.
“And this does not prove to you that her skin color means nothing to you?” his trenchant reply came forth.
“Not so!” his son rashly disagreed. “She is my captive, nothing more! This I swear to you, my father. I see and know she is white. I will never forget it,” he vowed fervently, assured he would be true to his laws when the time came.
“You are the son of Gray Eagle, chief of the Oglala. You will be the next leader of our people. I fear this girl causes you to think with your loins, not with your head. The fact you have taken her and still keep her alarms me. I do not wish my son to be taunted and mocked for his kindness to his enemy. I do not wish my son to fall under the magic of a white girl whom he can never fully possess. To keep her invites danger, my son, for you and for this girl.”
“But I cannot hand her over to the Tipi Sa!” he blurted out, exposing his deep feelings without meaning to do so.
“Then you should trade her to another warrior who does not need to stand straight and true like Bright Arrow,” he advised.
Bright Arrow’s eyes darted about in panic as he mentally envisioned Rebecca struggling upon a mat with another brave. Anger and jealousy flamed brightly and deadly within him. “I cannot! She is mine! When I have removed her powerful magic, then I will follow your advice. I will send her away only if you command it, my father,” he declared, his eyes and voice obstinate. He was Gray Eagle’s son, but he was also a grown man and a noted warrior in his own rank!
How could a frightened white girl be a threat to a powerful warrior? All he had to do was turn his head to dismiss her from sight and mind! What better way to punish one of the enemy than to humiliate her with enslavement, to force her to bend her will to any wish or command? He would find this sport enjoyable and stimulating if his father permitted him to keep her.
“Then I must go to our tepee and view this girl whose spirit has ensnared that of my only son. I will return and speak the words of my decision about her fate. Remain here with your mother.”
“I must come with you, Father. She will be afraid. She has heard of Gray Eagle and the mighty Oglala.” When the noble chief questioned that information, Bright Arrow related the story of his sketches upon the ground which had revealed their identities. Gray Eagle thought it odd this white girl knew so much about him.
“No, Bright Arrow. I go alone. I will test her wisdom and courage. I will see if she is worthy to be your slave. I will learn why you have chosen her over one of your own kind.” Gray Eagle looked at Shalee; some unreadable message passed between them. Gray Eagle smiled at her, then lovingly caressed her cheek.
Bright Arrow reluctantly sat down beside his mother as they both intently watched Gray Eagle’s departure. When he was out of hearing range, Shalee studied her son closely. “You desire this girl very much, do you not?” she inquired.
Her soft approach relaxed his tension. “Yes, Mother. She is unlike all other women. I wish she were not white. If she were Indian, I would marry her this very day. If Father says I must give her up, it will sadden my heart. I fear her loss will dull my keen senses; and fear is not good in a warrior. I do not understand these strange feelings,” he mumbled sadly.
Shalee tenderly stroked his cheek, smiling into his brooding eyes. “It is not fear you feel, my son; it is concern for the white girl. It is like she would take a special part of your spirit with her if she is forced to leave your side. Desire and worry are not signs of weakness or fear, Bright Arrow,” she calmly assuaged his anguish and guilt. “It is your desire for her which troubles you, not fear.”
He stared at his mother, absorbing her words and perception. “You are a woman, Mother. Warriors do not see things that way. But is it so wrong to…” He could not complete his traitorous statement. He glanced away from her discerning gaze.
“…feel this way about your enemy?” she finished it for him. She smiled as their gazes met and sighed. “Perhaps in the eyes of our people, but not in my heart. Must Indian laws and hatred apply to all whites, even one so young and innocent as Rebecca? What has she done to make her our enemy? Nothing! She was born white; you were born Indian. Only the Great Spirit knows why. Evil and hatred come from the heart, Bright Arrow, not from skin color. If her skin became red, would her heart or spirit be changed? If your skin became white, would your heart and spirit? No.”
When he started to argue her points, she silenced him, “Hear me out, my son. If Rebecca were not special, she would not have caught the eye of my son. Yet, there are many matters to consider. There are problems which even love and desire cannot conquer. These are what concern your father. He fears the magic hold she might cast over you, a hold which is forbidden in the eyes and laws of our people. Perhaps it is unjust and unfair, but it has always been this way. I wish it were not so, for my heart yearns for peace and safety. When you are young, the heart often speaks louder than the head. But love does not easily or painlessly yield to hostility and warfare. How does this girl look at you and treat you?” she asked.
Sensing his mother’s sympathy and concern, Bright Arrow slowly confessed the truth. He was pleased and relieved when she did not gasp in surprise or speak of dishonor. She cautiously related the unknown English words which Rebecca had spoken to him, binding him more tightly to this cherished captive. Instead, a haunting sadness was revealed within his mother’s forest green eyes. When she spoke, her voice contained echoes of emotions which he could not understand.
Shalee chose her words carefully, for her beloved son did not know that his own mother was a white woman. He did not know of how his father had captured, enslaved, ravished, tormented, and loved a white girl the year before he was born. He did not know of the anguish, sacrifice, and problems which they had faced and overcome long ago. He had not been told of how a desperate old woman named Matu had altered a scar upon Alisha Williams’s left buttock to match the akito—an identifying tattoo—upon the hand of the chief of the Blackfoot tribe, leading all to believe she was his half-breed daughter Shalee who had been kidnapped by whites at the tender age of two and who had been miraculously returned to her people at nineteen. He did not know of how his father had challenged Brave Bear, the chosen son of Chief Mahpiya Sapa, for Shalee’s hand in marriage. Their underlying secrets too deadly to reveal, these past triumphs and tragedies had long since been buried.
Naturally Bright Arrow knew his mother was the half-breed daughter of Chief Black Cloud and his white squaw Jenny who had been slain during a Bluecoat raid upon the Blackfoot village when his mother was two winters old. He also knew his mother had met and joined with his father nineteen winters ago. He knew of the potent love which they shared; he had witnessed the closeness between them. Yet, he did not know that his uncontrollable action had abruptly refreshed his parents’ painful memories. He did not know how deeply they feared to watch their past life relived by their son.
Shalee observed her son as he spoke of this girl called Rebecca, this girl who resembled her, this girl who sounded so much like her…
Shalee dreaded to think about this girl’s new existence, one which could eventually rival her own horrible past as a white captive to a formidable warrior who was the son of a chief! How could she bear to witness her past reborn in another’s present life? How could she prevent such a travesty without telling her son why? How could she encourage such a forbidden union which could only lead to anguish and heartache for both the girl and her son? Yet, how could she wisely counsel him without betraying her own deadly secrets? The truth had to remain hidden for all time in order to protect the lives of those she loved.
Shalee shuddered to speculate upon the circumstances which would surround the naked truth about her: her husband’s deception in presenting her as Princess Shalee, her own eager and willing acceptance of the Oglala’s love and trust and that of the Blackfoot’s, and her son’s half-breed lineage. Even after living with the Indians for these years, their resentment would be limitless if they somehow learned of these numerous deceptions…Her beloved son, how could she possibly condemn him to the lowly rank of half-breed: a position lower than the white man or the Indian held in either’s eyes?
Who was this girl who had been cruelly thrust into their peaceful lives? How would Rebecca change their tranquil existence and Bright Arrow? Yet, how could Shalee meekly stand aside and watch Bright Arrow treat this innocent, defenseless girl in the same unyielding manner in which Gray Eagle had originally done to her? How could Shalee forestall these warnings of portentous doom which savagely rent at her heart and mind?
Shalee’s mind was plagued by too many echoes of her own yesterdays. Her own mental cries and pleas for mercy, acceptance, and love of long ago reverberated over and over within her distressed mind. All of her yesterdays were in the past; why couldn’t they remain concealed there? Yet, she somehow knew they would not. The dangerous echoes would continue to come closer and to grow louder until…until what? She apprehensively fretted.
“Mother? What troubles you so?” Bright Arrow inquired, love and worry in his tone and curious gaze.
“Rebecca, Bright Arrow. I am a woman; I know the feelings within her. I feel great sorrow in knowing what she might endure. It will be hard for her, my son. She has already lost and suffered so much. Yet, there is more anguish to come for her. I, too, cannot bear the idea of you sending her to another brave who might use her badly. If she is as you say, her pain and fear are great. You not only control her life, but also her heart. How I wish there was no war between us.”
Shalee looked deeply into his eyes as she said, “Remember these things, my son: she cannot be blamed for her white skin; she cannot be blamed for being a woman, one who has fallen prey to the strength and control of a strong man. She does not have the power to fight you or her destiny. Do not punish her for what she cannot change or control. If you wish it so, I will try to teach her respect and obedience. I would not want my son to be forced to brutally punish or to slay an innocent girl because of her natural defiance. There is much she must learn and accept. If you keep her, I will do this for both of you.”
Bright Arrow could hardly trust his ears. “You would help me train this white girl?” he asked incredulously, oblivious to her real motives.
“If you must keep her, my son, then let our tepee be a happy one. This girl could change many things there if we refuse to teach her what she must know and do. Does she not deserve our help and kindness? Reckless defiance could cost her life and the peace within our home.”
“I do not understand, Mother. Rebecca is white! She is my slave and must obey me! She is our enemy!” he irrationally debated her confusing words. Their laws were clear: captives obeyed the commands of their masters or they were punished; that had always been the way of his kind. Was his own mother actually suggesting leniency and friendship? “Rebecca will not defy me; she is afraid, but she is smart!”
“You are far wiser and braver than you claim she is, my son. But would you silently and meekly accept captivity by your white enemy? Rebellion against enslavement and hatred is a natural thing, Bright Arrow. Yes, she might be smart and frightened. But how long can she timidly accept a life of coldness, cruelty, and loneliness? Her ravaged heart will soon cry out for freedom, honor, and happiness. She must find them within your life-circle or she will helplessly seek them in another place. Kindness will gain you far more from her than mighty power ever can. I cannot permit the war between our peoples to steal into my own tepee,” she softly informed him.
“But the others will call me coward and betrayer!” he protested her assertions.
“Not if you only behave this way in our tepee. Be the Indian and warrior in the village, but only a man in our tepee. This small amount of truce will be enough for her. You will see,” she promised confidently, recalling how it had once been between the English girl Alisha Williams and the formidable Sioux warrior Gray Eagle.
“What if Rebecca will not allow this trick? What will my father say when he learns of it?” he speculated as irrepressible excitement sang within his veins. Was such a ruse possible? The temptation was great.
“As for your father, I do not know. I can only hope he will permit our kindness to her. It is you, not Rebecca, who shouts of this hostility between you two. It is also my beloved son the Sioux Warrior, not his white captive, who is unwilling to deny or to prevent this emotional warfare. From all you say, you are but a man to her. But to you, she is only a white captive. You already possess her life and purity. Wherein does the justice lie for her continued punishment and rejection? She belongs to you. She desires you and accepts you as a man. Do you wish to drive these special feelings from her heart and body with coldness and torment? If she withdraws her love from you, is that not the same as losing her? What do you truly want from her?” she challenged.
When he failed to answer her question, she continued, “Have you forgotten that you own mother carries the blood of a white squaw? Does that fact make me a despised enemy? If not for Wi, my skin would be as white as snow. My grass eyes declare my wasichu blood. Does this not tell you that all whites are not evil? Because of the love and desire my father felt for a white squaw, I was born. Am I any less than I am because of their forbidden love and union, for the wasichu blood which flows within me? When your lance brings forth the blood of a white, is it not the same color as an Indian’s? The real difference between the white-eyes and the Indians is in spirit. The colors of our skins are only an excuse to reveal this difference.”
Bright Arrow reasoned upon her words. He decided, “You are indeed wise and gentle, Mother. But my father and the others do not feel and think this way,” he apprehensively reminded her. Once again that strange and haunting look came into her emerald eyes.
“Your father is a warrior and a chief, Bright Arrow. As leader of our tribe, he must view things differently. I cannot speak of the secret matters which are in his heart and mind, for only he sees and understands them. I have loved him since the first moment our eyes met. I must obey his wishes. Yet, sometimes the good of our people must shine brighter than his love for me. This has been hard to accept and to understand, but it must be so. I would not wish to cause him pain or dishonor. Yet, sometimes we do such things because we cannot help ourselves. Too, there are times when the Great Spirit has plans for us which we do not comprehend and often resist.”
“How so, Mother?” he curiously inquired, his brow lifting inquisitively.
She silently reasoned for a time, trying to find some way to make her points without revealing too much. She smiled sadly and whispered softly, “Speak of this to no one, not even your father. It would bring back much pain in both our hearts, but there are matters which might help’ you understand things more clearly. He would not wish me to tell you of our past days, but there is one thing you must hear. Then you will comprehend his decision and our sadness. When your father and I first met, we were both promised to others. But our love could not be halted. It quickly grew until it was an overpowering force which we could not resist. When Gray Eagle first saw me, it was much like your meeting with Rebecca. He desired me greatly, but he saw my green eyes and believed me a white captive. For this, he fiercely resisted the bond of love which stretched between us. Even when he learned I was the daughter of Chief Mahpiya Sapa, he still struggled against my white blood. Knowing your father’s feelings about the whites and their evil, you can comprehend the terrible battle which raged within him. Even so, he could not forget me. His hunger for me became so great that he challenged my promised mate to win me. After we were joined, he came to love me even more. For all these years, he chose to deny my white blood. But today, you have reminded him of this truth which he had buried within his heart. Your challenge of an Indian brother for a white woman’s possession reminded him of his past challenge for the half-breed daughter of Black Cloud. Yet, he spared the life of his rival; you could not. Your words reminded him of the same turmoil which he had endured. Others also thought me white; they mocked and taunted him for his weakness and dishonor.
“Do you not see, my son? You have innocently reminded him that he also loves a girl with wasichu blood. You now show him what would have passed between us had I not been proven Si-ha Sapa. As with you and Rebecca, he feared losing me; he feared taking me. As you said, fear is not good in a warrior. For a time we tasted the pain and hopelessness of forbidden love and powerful desire; he wishes to spare you from that same anguish and humiliation, for you and Rebecca cannot find the happy solution we now enjoy. It took great love and courage for him to accept a half-breed girl. It was also difficult for the Oglalas to learn to accept a half-breed girl in the sacred life circle of their beloved Gray Eagle. Now, Gray Eagle’s son also chooses a white girl over one of his own kind. Such an action might cast dark shadows over both of you; it might remind the Oglalas that I am also half white.”
“But how could my father challenge for you when both of you were promised to others?” he seized upon a conflicting point which she had overlooked, forcing her to divulge more facts.
“As with Rebecca, he took me thinking I was a white girl. My love for him was so great that I openly declared my choice of him. But the laws of our peoples had to be obeyed. He was forced to win me by the right of ki-ci-e-conape, for he had possessed me first. But the outcome was unlike your fight with the Cheyenne warrior; your father spared the life of Brave Bear and gave him the hand of his chosen one in joining. There is truce between us.”
“Brave Bear and Chela were your chosen mates!” he exclaimed.
“It was so, but our love could not be denied. It was the will of the Great Spirit. Since that day, there has been truce and happiness for all. We have been at peace with the Si-ha Sapa. Will our Cheyenne brothers feel the same good spirit at the news of your deadly challenge with Standing Bear? Your father is very proud and stubborn, my son. Even now, it is hard for him to remember my white blood. Your magic is much like his; Rebecca cannot resist it, as I could not resist his. You say she is much like me, and he fears you will come to love and desire her as he did me. Love me or hurt me, he will reject this girl’s place within your life.”
“I will speak to him of these things! He must know of my feelings. I will tell him…”
She hastily interrupted him, “No, Bright Arrow! You must never speak of the past to him. It would only re-open many old wounds which are not completely healed; it might cause new ones which will hurt us all deeply. I beg you; do not speak of this to him. I only told you these things to help you understand what must be. He knows of your feelings, but he also knows of the price it will take for you to keep Rebecca.”
“But things are good between you,” he argued.
“Only because he has been able to conceal my wasichu blood from everyone, including himself. Many things were said and done between us while we resisted our love, things which even now I cannot bear to recall or to speak of to even you. Do not call our past back to life; it would be tormenting and costly for us,” she entreated him. “Every day more whites come to our lands to forcefully steal them. Deeper hostility breeds with each new moon.”
“What did my father do to you, Mother?” he asked, sensing some terrible agony within that haunted expression.
“Call to mind how you viewed and treated Rebecca. You did so because she is white and your captive. When I first met Gray Eagle, he thought I was white and he tried to capture me. Put the two times together and compare them. Therein lies the answer you seek, Bright Arrow…”
His eyes grew wide with disbelief and alarm. “But why did he not listen to your words and pleas? He took you as I took her!” he remarked in alarming distress.
She smiled through dewy eyes. “Just as you took her. With magic, gentleness, desire, and confusion. Did you heed Rebecca’s words and signs? No. Does she not look more Indian than I do, than I did? Could she speak while your mouth was upon hers? Perhaps her fear, confusion, and suffering stole her speech. Did she not fall prey to your great prowess and magic: things you share with your father?”
He grinned mischievously. “Afterwards you did not hate him? You joined to him?” he teased her.
She laughed merrily, a light blush covering her face. “I fear his magic was too powerful to refuse. I loved him even at that first moment. For a time, there was rebellion and resentment within my mind. But his touch and love dispelled them. I would not want such bitter memories to return and to cast a dark shadow upon our love. You told him of your night with Rebecca, a night which compared to one with me long ago.”
“Still, it is different between me and Rebecca.”
“Perhaps for now, but who can tell what the new moon holds for any of us? You are the son of the Oglala chief. As with us, you will also face decisions and sacrifices which other warriors will not. Your people will come before your needs and wishes many times. Often this will be painful, haunting, and difficult for you. But as with your father and others chiefs, you will do what you must. You will bend and yield to your destiny and the will of your people, for this is deeply ingrained within your heart and mind. Rebecca will innocently suffer for what she is and for who you are; this cannot be avoided or changed. Accept it now, my son, or both of you could know great anguish. I wish I could tell you to give her up this moment, but I cannot. I know what it is like to desire someone beyond will or reason. What do laws and skin colors matter when your spirit cries out for hers? There are two things you must promise me: first, do not punish her for her tragic destiny, for she has no choice but to obey it. Second, you must keep all these words between us secret.”
“I must think much upon them, but I will conceal them from everyone. You are wise and brave, my beautiful mother. Now, I can understand my father’s coming decision. When he speaks it, I will abide by it,” he wretchedly agreed, fearing the worst.
She hugged him tightly. “I am very proud of you, Bright Arrow. I could ask for no better son. You are indeed like your father, a man who stands far above others. We will speak again after I have met your Rebecca.”
For a time they spoke of other things as they nervously awaited Gray Eagle’s return. As time crept along, both Shalee and Bright Arrow became concerned. Bright Arrow was the first to give voice to their rising panic. “Why does he take so long, Mother? Would he send her away before telling me his decision?”
“I honestly do not know. He will do what he thinks is best for all concerned.” A look of alarm suddenly crossed her features. What if the girl was so terrified of him that she rebelled against him and her captivity? Her own scars upon her back from a past lashing for defiance tingled a warning within her. “Perhaps we should return to our tepee. Something might be wrong. Surely he has finished his inspection of her by now. She does not know our ways; she might make a terrible mistake and defy him…”
Bright Arrow was instantly upon his feet. He helped his mother up and took her small hand within his larger one. They quickly walked back to camp. Shalee entered their tepee first. The white girl was in tears; she was shaking violently. Gray Eagle was towering over her like some giant bird of prey about to attack her and tear her to pieces. At Shalee’s voice from the entry, he whirled to face her and her seeming intrusion, eyes glacial and angry. His lofty, muscular frame was taut and intimidating.
Her curious eyes went from her husband to the weeping girl, then back to him again. “Wamndi Hota?” she asked.
When he spoke to her in his tongue, his voice was harsh and strained. “I said to wait by the stream for my return. I have not decided her fate. Go! Leave this matter to me,” he sternly commanded in a tone which she had not heard in many, many years from the man she loved. The look which filled his jet eyes caused fingers of dread to seize her tender heart. She was stunned into silence. She had witnessed many confrontations with white foes, but none as tempestuous as this one appeared.
“What has happened here, Father?” Bright Arrow asked, confounded by his father’s unleashed temper and tense body.
At the sound of Bright Arrow’s voice, Rebecca looked up. She cried out in relief and rushed toward him. Her arms encircled his waist and she buried her tear-streaked face against his bare chest. She sobbed uncontrollably, clinging tightly to him.
Both Shalee and Bright Arrow stared at Gray Eagle in confusion. Gray Eagle’s eyes narrowed, hardened, and chilled as he observed the tender way his son’s arms instinctively embraced the white girl and held her possessively and comfortingly.
“Release her, Bright Arrow! It is wrong to show her such warmth and leniency. Such friendly actions breed defiance and arrogance within white slaves. She is but a white captive; treat her as such.” To see this particular girl snuggled against his only son’s body and drawing solace from him was too much to bear!
“But she is so young and frightened, Father,” he rashly argued, unaware of the vicious war raging within his father.
“It is only natural to fear your enemy! To show kindness and to offer comfort would be an open show of acceptance and friendship to her. I cannot permit it. She has cunningly captured your eyes and your loins; I will not allow her to add your heart and your honor to her wicked collection. She is evil. She is weak and crafty. She seeks to win your heart with her false tears and pretense of desire. No white woman could truly love her Indian captor! The only magic she possesses is her cunning mind; no doubt she laughs at your weakness for her,” he snarled.
In the heat of his vengeful anger, Gray Eagle’s concentration was upon Bright Arrow and the despicable white girl. He failed to note the shocking impact of his cutting words and actions upon his wife, who was also white and had once stood where this terrified and helpless girl was standing now. Shalee watched this tragic scene in utter disbelief. After all these years, was his past resentment surfacing and venting?
The secrets which Gray Eagle had just uncovered about this white girl raged viciously and bitterly within him like a violent storm mercilessly attacking everything in its path. He could not believe the Great Spirit would punish and torture him in this cruel and inexplicable manner. In Gray Eagle’s attempts to extract information about her, Rebecca had innocently given away several clues to her identity. In her desperation to convince Gray Eagle that she and her father had been friendly to the Indians, she had spoken Joe Kenny’s name: a name which he had instantly recognized, a name which had told him her true identity, a perilous fact which even she did not know!
Gray Eagle could barely contain the resentment and enmity which flamed like destructive wildfire throughout his virile body. Of all white females alive, he could never permit this particular girl to have his only son! He had not permitted her real father to steal his wife, and he would never allow his lowly daughter to entrap his only son. He bitterly recalled that day years ago when not Joe Kenny, but her real father, a treacherous half-breed, had shot him and had left him for dead. He remembered how her father had tragically interfered in their lives many times in the distant past. He would never forget or forgive her father for kidnapping Shalee the day after their joining, for using his own past treatment of Shalee to convince her that her new husband had left her to die in the desert while all along he lay bleeding to death from that treacherous scout’s wound! If that wasn’t enough evil, her father had taken his beloved wife into great peril, danger which claimed the life of his unborn child, danger which placed her under the wicked control of a yellow-haired Bluecoat from the fort which he had bravely destroyed, danger which had caused him to think his guiltless wife had betrayed him, danger which had blindly compelled him to seek her life in brutal revenge for traitorous crimes which she had not committed!
He could never forget or forgive the pain and troubles which Rebecca’s father had caused. It did not matter that Rebecca had been raised as the child of his old friend Joe Kenny. It did not matter that Joe had been the man to help his wife, to later come here to explain the scout’s treachery and her innocence, to be the one who brought about their present happiness and acceptance. The blood of her real father ran within her body: the blood of Powchutu, the half-breed scout from Fort Pierre…
Never imagining that their paths would ever cross again, Joe had carelessly confessed the truth about his wife Mary, about how she had loved Powchutu, about how she had become pregnant with his child, about how he had been murdered before they could marry, about how Shalee must never know the truth about the man who had more than once saved her life at the risk of his own and a man who had once been like a brother to her, about the man whom Shalee would have married if things had worked out differently at the fort: something Powchutu had been unable and unwilling to accept. Powchutu had craved Shalee for his own wife; he had done all within his power and skill to win her love. Now, Powchutu’s daughter was standing here in his tepee, threatening to destroy them all!
The emotional battle raged on and on within Gray Eagle, creating a mixture of volatile expressions upon his normally impassive face. The floodgates upon the dam of his memory had been shattered; waves and waves of tormenting thoughts returned from the past to storm against his taut body and to carry it along in its violent surges. He struggled to escape this swirling tide, as past events reached out to engulf him. He could not fathom a guess as to Shalee’s reaction to Rebecca’s identity. He could not risk telling her the truth. Rebecca must leave before many secrets were revealed. Never would his only son be ensnared by the daughter of his worst enemy!
Shalee could not believe the fierce hostility and contempt which she vividly read within Gray Eagle’s eyes and upon his handsome face.
“She is white! She is unworthy of your touch! Her mind and blood are evil. Send her to the Tipi Sa!” he sneered, outrage shuddering his stalwart body.
Watching her husband and listening to him, Shalee was brutally thrown backwards in time to a day when she had occupied Rebecca’s place. Without warning or knowing, she shrieked, “Hiya!”
Both Bright Arrow and Gray Eagle were astonished by the vehemence in her tone and the gleam of anger which filled her turbulent green eyes. In Oglala, she murmured almost inaudibly, “Kill her or send her away, but never put an innocent girl in that vile place. I will never forgive you, my husband, if you do this terrible thing! Rebecca is not to blame for the hatred between the white man and the Indian. Why must a white girl pay for the warfare which men instigate? It is cruel and unjust! To condemn a child like this to such a brutal fate would make us appear the savages we are alleged to be! Such spitefulness is beneath you, my husband…”
Gray Eagle stared at her in disbelief. She had not spoken to him in this rebellious tone in eighteen years! Neither had she coldly glared at him as she did this minute, not since…His fury and bitterness mounted as he incredulously gazed into the beautiful and defiant expression of Alisha Williams…