Princess Shalee sat on the mat beside her sleeping husband, Gray Eagle. It had been twenty-three days since he had been wounded. For a time, she had believed and feared he would die. Never before had she been so afraid, so aware of her love and need for him. When he finally started responding to medicines and treatments, he had attempted to leave his mat and go after their youngest son. The only way she could keep him down was by drugging him lightly without his knowledge. She knew that if he rode off in this condition, he would never make it to the Crow camp, much less rescue their child. She despised tricking him, making him believe he was weaker than he actually was, but it was necessary, and she would continue doing so until he recovered fully. She could bear no more losses.
The woman who was once Gray Eagle’s white captive, Alisha Williams, boldly asked the medicine chief to call the council together. It was past time to intervene for her oldest son, to halt this madness, to make a truce and to find peace for all! Mind-Who-Roams looked at her strangely, probingly, then smiled in comprehension. His instinctive understanding never ceased to amaze and mystify her. Seeing his expression, she smiled and ventured, “You know what must be done?”
He nodded, then affectionately patted her shoulder. “It is time, Shalee. I will send out the call for council.”
Shalee entered the ceremonial lodge, raising eyebrows and creating many a stare. Holding her head high and summoning her courage, she walked over to stand at Mind-Who-Roams’ side. The medicine chief and visionary told the council that she wished to speak with them. The men listened reluctantly, yet with curiosity.
She prayed her voice would hold steady and positive during this crucial speech as she began, “I know a woman does not take part in the council meetings and votes. This time, it must be done. There is much I must say to you. My husband, your chief, lies wounded. Our son is a captive of our enemy the Crow. The Crow and Pawnee bite viciously at our camp. I have come to speak for mercy and truce.”
The men exchanged bewildered glances, thinking she was referring to their two foes. “My other son was banished for choosing to love a white woman and share his life with her. Bright Arrow is in the Crow camp. He has dressed as a white trader and has gone to rescue his brother, your future chief if he survives. Have you forgotten all my first son has done for his people? Have you forgotten his love for us? He risks his life to help us, even after we turned our faces away from him. He is a warrior. He is an Oglala. He is the son of Gray Eagle. Where is your mercy? Where is your justice and kindness? Have you no understanding, love, or forgiveness for him? Is it so wrong to protect the woman you love? Do we choose who causes our hearts and bodies to burn with love and desire?” she challenged.
“Who among you can swear without a doubt that Rebecca was not chosen for Bright Arrow by the Great Spirit? And if this is so, can we resist Grandfather’s wishes any longer? Why do you punish him for obeying Grandfather, for following his guidance? Can such a pure and strong and unselfish love be evil? Who are you to judge Bright Arrow’s actions and feelings? Have you forgotten his courage? His daring and cunning? Have you forgotten his blood and value?” Her entreating gaze went from one man to the next as she spoke from her heart.
“Can you deny Rebecca loves him beyond her own pride and life? Was she not willing to live among us, to call us friends and family? Was she not willing to accept our feelings and words against her in order to be at his side? Is not such love uncontrollable? Unselfish? Can she change her white skin? Can she cease her love for my son? Can he cease his love and need for her? Many winters have passed. Many have suffered from this punishment. Is it not time to halt the pain and sadness? Is it not time to open our hearts to forgiveness and understanding? Can we show no mercy and justice for him?”
She sank to her knees, not wishing to tower over them. Her voice held notes of pleading, firmness, urgency, and disappointment. She revealed Rebecca’s help to the Cheyenne. “Is this the action of an enemy of the Indian? Why must we be cruel and blind? Grandfather should decide whether or not she lives at Bright Arrow’s side. In his fevers, many times my husband has called for his sons. Why do you punish your chief by denying him his son, his happiness? Why do you make him choose between his son and his people? This is wrong.”
She halted a moment to catch her breath. “Hear me, Oglala, you must unblind your eyes and open your hearts to understanding. You must show mercy and generosity. You have sent all whites from your village; you prevent others from coming. Is this one white girl a threat to us? Bright Arrow should be among his people. He should live by his customs and ways. He should ride at his father’s side. He should help protect his people. He loves us. He longs to return. We destroy him by sending him into a white world. Do you hate him so much you wish to see him suffer and die alone? Why must you continue to do this cruel and evil thing? It is time for peace with his family and tribe. It is time for him to come home.”
She dared not ponder the men’s reactions and thoughts. She had to use her every means of cunning and daring to gain her son’s return. “Is it not better to learn about the whites? One day many will enter these lands. The day will come when the Oglala must fight and kill many whites, or learn to make peace with them. Have you forgotten white blood flows in my veins? Have I not been loyal to my husband and his people? In your hearts, do you also hate me and reject me for this white blood? Do you wish to see me banished? You are strong and wise men. Why must you see this one girl as your enemy? Why must you hurt so many with this vote? It is not fair; it is not right.”
She related Bright Arrow’s experiences with the expedition. “Does a man who rejects his people seek to save them from enemies? He has not rejected us; we sent him away because he could not deny his love or cast her aside. How could you demand he do such a cruel thing?”
“If our sons die in the Crow camp and Gray Eagle does not survive, you will answer to Grandfather when you meet him on the Ghost Trail. What will you say when Grandfather asks why you interfered in his plans for Bright Arrow? Is your pride and hatred larger than Grandfather’s power and wishes? How can you banish a great warrior and feel nothing? There are two more children with the blood of Gray Eagle flowing in them. Will you force them to become whites or despised half-breeds? If they had not been sent away, a third daughter would not be dead. We must tell Grandfather why Moon Eyes did not live to see five winters. We must tell Grandfather why a great Sioux warrior lives as a lonely and useless trapper. We must tell Grandfather why the noble and fearless Oglala allowed one tiny white girl to change so many lives, to cause such unnecessary suffering. We must tell Grandfather why we did not ask for his guidance in this grave matter, listening to our own hatred and fear instead of his voice. What will you tell Grandfather when he asks such questions?” she challenged, passing her defiant gaze over each man.
“Bright Arrow knows he cannot become chief. He walks the path he believes Grandfather has made for him. He also believes his place is here with his people. He wants to return to us. My son’s daughters should live with us; they should be raised with their people. Do not punish them for their father’s action. One has died; we must save the others. Rebecca is willing to send Bright Arrow and the girls home without her, if you once more demand it. Is this not unselfish and powerful love? Do you not remember how she risked her life to rescue him from the old fort? Do you not remember how gentle and kind she is? Do you not recall her obedience, respect, and skills? What more must she do to earn your approval? My son is an honorable man; he will not accept her rejection. To do so would go against Grandfather’s message to him. He seeks to earn your forgiveness and acceptance, but he will not beg for them. Will you deny them? If you cannot do this for Bright Arrow, I beg you to do it for his children, for your chief, for Grandfather. In my heart and mind, I know she is the woman for my son. Let them return and join together. The day Rebecca proves unworthy of your trust and acceptance, you can take my life as payment and punishment,” she stated bravely, her green eyes glittering with honesty and sincerity.
Shalee lowered her head. Mind-Who-Roams laid his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly, declaring, “I say the words of Shalee are true and wise. I say this matter is for Grandfather to settle. The white girl is no threat to the Oglala. Bright Arrow’s life and destiny are here with his people and his family. I say he returns.” The medicine chief had firmly given his vote and opinion. “I say Bright Arrow rides at Gray Eagle’s side until Sun Cloud becomes chief. In my dreams, I have seen these three warriors standing side by side and defending our camp. If it does not come to pass, the Oglala will be destroyed.”
One warrior asked, “If we allow this white to enter our camp, others will try to enter. What of the white blood in his daughters?”
Shalee looked up and replied wearily, “Other whites cannot enter if you refuse them. The law against whites did not exist when Bright Arrow took her. His girls will join with Oglala braves; their children will join with Oglala. With each Oglala mating, the white blood will weaken until it is gone. I chose the Oglala over the whites. So will Rebecca if you allow it. Am I not Oglala in heart and mind and existence? It will be the same for Rebecca; I swear it on my life and honor. Do not deny my son his rightful destiny.”
Plenty Coups inquired, “What if he does not escape the Crow camp alive? Do you ask us to accept his white woman and his children?”
“If he does not live, there is no need for a vote. Will you reject children of Gray Eagle’s blood who are alone and helpless? Is it not true that children belong to the father’s people? Rebecca could not care for them or protect them. She would give them to me,” Shalee stated confidently, tormented by the possibility.
Cloud Chaser arose and suggested cleverly, “I say the vote belongs to Grandfather. If Bright Arrow escapes with Sun Cloud and returns to our camp, I say it is the sign for our brother’s forgiveness and acceptance. I say we must agree with that sign. When we hear his words and deeds, we can vote on his woman.” He sat down.
Flaming Star concurred. “I say Cloud Chaser speaks wisely. Grandfather must decide Bright Arrow’s destiny.” He had no doubt that his friend would succeed in his mission and return. The young warrior went on to reveal what he knew about Rebecca, remaining silent about his suspicions concerning Cloud Chaser. He vowed to watch the devious man carefully and closely, for he sensed something evil in him.
Standing Rock, Kajihah’s father, stood up and scoffed, “I say the white girl is evil. She stole the eye of Windrider from my daughter. She casts her evil magic over a Cheyenne warrior, just as she did over Bright Arrow. I say she must not be allowed to enter our camp with her evil magic and potent spells. A great sickness and death came over the Cheyenne camp. Many say the two white women caused it.”
Flaming Star jumped to his feet. “This is not so, Standing Rock. Your child fills your ears with lies. Windrider has chosen another woman, but it is not Rebecca. Rebecca loves and waits for Bright Arrow in the camp of the Yankton. The two white women knew the healing medicines. They helped the Cheyenne. If you do not believe this, go and ask the Cheyenne. They sing praises for the help of the white women. There is only friendship between Windrider and Rebecca. Did they not tell you of the evil of your child?” he asked, having heard the story from Rebecca as they had traveled downriver. When the man remained huffy and antagonistic, Flaming Star exposed Kajihah’s character and actions. Before the older warrior could debate them, Flaming Star craftily declared, “Ask any Cheyenne if these words are not true. You have been misguided, my friend.”
The man grumbled but sat down. Walking Buffalo shifted on his sitting mat. Mind-Who-Roams looked at him and coaxed, “Speak your mind, Tatankamani.”
“When the white girl lived in our camp many winters ago, she was kind to me. My wife was sick; my children were small. Rebecca gathered wood and water each day. She brought us food. I did not speak out for her because too many were against her. It was wrong.”
White Arrow, best friend to Gray Eagle since their youth and adopted father to Bright Arrow, spoke up, revealing, “It was this way for many. She has a good heart and kind spirit. I know of her great love for my other son. I was with her when she went to the fort to free him. She knew it might cost her her life; she did not care. She is the daughter of our old friend, Joe Kenny. He is one white we did not reject. Must we do this to his child? They have suffered too much. I wish my other son home.”
Flaming Star looked at his father and smiled. White Arrow returned it, then paused to reflect on the past. White Arrow had been with Gray Eagle the day he had captured Alisha Williams. He had been at Gray Eagle’s side during their times of joy and pains, watching their love increase with each new season. He had witnessed the day Bright Arrow had walked a similar path when he had captured Rebecca. Gray Eagle and Shalee had proven that skin colors did not prevent love and peace, that only the interference of others could cause anguish and trouble. He had watched Bright Arrow grow to be a man and become a great warrior. Such a loss to the tribe was intolerable. It was past time for the seeds of fury to be buried in the fertile earth to sprout into happiness and serenity.
During the pensive silence, Shalee pushed herself to her feet. She told the men, “I only ask for you to think and pray over this matter. You need not vote this sun. Search your hearts and minds for the truth, for mercy, for understanding and kindness. When my sons return to camp, the council can meet and vote,” she suggested wisely, realizing that with so many men already in her favor, more time for them to think would be to Bright Arrow’s advantage. Shalee thanked them for listening, then left.
After the council meeting, Cloud Chaser slipped from camp, unnoticed by all but Flaming Star. The younger warrior followed the stealthy Cloud Chaser until he was certain he was heading away from the direction in which Bright Arrow and Sun Cloud would appear. Evidently the man wanted to see someone or do something in private. Deciding the devious warrior was no threat to his two friends, he returned to camp to speak with Shalee. He would suggest that he head after Rebecca and the children, to have them nearby when Bright Arrow arrived. He felt that this trying matter should be settled promptly. As soon as the sickness left the Cheyenne camp, he needed to see Windrider again; his visit three days before had left him bewildered.
Far away, many things were happening. The tragic smallpox attack in the Cheyenne camp was nearly over. In all, three hundred and eleven of a little over seven hundred members of the Cheyenne camp had died. Of the two hundred tepees, all had experienced at least one fatality. Of just over three hundred warriors, only one hundred and eighty-nine had survived. Many of the fatalities had been children, elderly members, and women. But with Bonnie’s warnings and guidance, the disease had not spread beyond their village.
Windrider was healing quickly and painlessly beneath Bonnie’s glowing eyes and loving attention. It was decided they would join as soon as Windrider was totally well and on his feet again. Each night chants were sung in Bonnie’s and Rebecca’s names for their help and persistence. All felt that Bonnie was the answer to Windrider’s vision, and she was accepted into his life and camp. In a few more days, he would no longer be infectious. He could help his people begin what they were calling a new life. Love and passion bloomed brightly and boldly between the Cheyenne warrior and his white captive. Yet there was one matter that troubled the man deeply…
Farther away, Bright Arrow and Sun Cloud were traveling a roundabout trail, which required more time and energy but was safer. The warrior knew that the Crow would head straight toward the Oglala camp the moment they discovered his deception and the bodies of their three warriors. They would think that the white trader, whoever he was, would gallop fast and furiously for the Sioux village, which lay southeast of their camp. His plan was to outsmart his foes by concealing his tracks and riding in a southwesterly direction until they reached the northwest border of the Black Hills. They would weave through the sacred mountains and come out near the Cheyenne River, just below Windrider’s camp. From there, Bright Arrow would sneak home with his brother, gingerly avoiding any Crow or Pawnee raiding parties or advance scouts.
Around dusk, Bright Arrow located a cave that he had visited many times in the past when his tribe had camped not far away during the winter. As a child, he had explored its deep, dark passages. He had been unaffected by the scary tales of ghostly spirits roaming the insides of this black hole. As he grew older, it had’been a secret place to come and think. Allowing his stolen horse to water and graze, he and his brother hurriedly gathered plenty of wood for warmth and light. Then Bright Arrow led Sun Cloud and the trusty steed into the dark passage, where he built a small fire over which to roast a rabbit he had slain while collecting wood. As they waited for the fire to blaze, he tossed Sun Cloud a blanket to wrap around his body.
As the meal was cooking the boy asked, “Why did you dress as a white trader? Why did you scalp your hair?”
Bright Arrow laughed heartily. “To save my little brother from the hungry foes. They did not know me. It was a good trick. Hair will grow again; Sun Cloud cannot be replaced.”
“My mother told me many stories about you. Why do you live with the whites? Why do you never come to visit us? Why do our people refuse to speak your name or chant your coups?” he asked eagerly.
As simply as possible, Bright Arrow truthfully explained the situation. When his little brother pressed for more answers, Bright Arrow revealed many things about himself and his past and present life. The boy was astounded by such facts and feats. “Will you bring Little Feet and Tashina to visit me? I will call them sister and protect them when you are gone,” he offered, love and pride shining in his eyes.
When Bright Arrow agreed to fulfill his wishes, Sun Cloud asked inquisitively, “Will you come to live with us? Why did you join a white woman?”
Chuckling deeply, Bright Arrow tried to explain love and commitment. He told Sun Cloud all about Rebecca. He said his return home depended on the council’s vote and their acceptance of Rebecca. Sun Cloud puffed out his chest and declared, “I will force them to obey. I will be chief when father dies. No one will defy my words. It is silly to fear a white girl. You are a great warrior, son of Gray Eagle and brother to Sun Cloud. You are brave and cunning. I will help you.”
Bright Arrow watched his brother’s expressions and listened closely to his words. For one so young, he knew many things, Bright Arrow mused. He would make a good chief for their people, and Gray Eagle was training and preparing him well. He was smart, quick-witted, alert, and brave.
Bright Arrow pleased him when he asked Sun Cloud to relate the news and events since his departure years ago. They talked far into the night, then slept for a few hours. Before dawn, they were up and gone from the cave. In three to five moons, they would be home.
The next day, Flaming Star and two braves began their journey to fetch Rebecca, Silent Thunder, and the two girls. They would follow the same plan as before, returning to the Oglala camp in twelve days.
Flaming Star was glad he had gone to see Windrider after returning from the trip to Yankton. After Rebecca’s strange and shocking disclosure, he had needed to question Windrider about Cloud Chaser’s alleged ride to the Oglala camp and the mysterious council meeting that was supposed to have taken place. Windrider had been visibly astonished to learn there had been no such meeting, that no one had known about her quest or Bright Arrow’s arrival nearby. An inexplicable expression had crossed Windrider’s face, but because Flaming Star had stood at a required distance from the contagious Cheyenne warrior, Flaming Star had been unable to read it or understand it. Later he had wondered if it could have been a look of anger at a betrayal that Windrider had rapidly mastered and concealed.
It didn’t make any sense to the Sioux warrior. He wondered what Cloud Chaser and Windrider had in common, other than Bright Arrow. He was already underway before he realized that Cloud Chaser had been heading toward Windrider’s camp yesterday. He asked himself why Cloud Chaser would rush off to see Windrider after a council meeting about Bright Arrow and Rebecca. He pondered the Sioux warrior’s motives for lying to Rebecca and Windrider and wondered why Windrider would have brought Rebecca to the Oglala camp secretly. Because Windrider’s tale had matched hers, Flaming Star knew Cloud Chaser had to be lying, plotting. Yet he had spoken in favor of Bright Arrow’s return. This strange matter would bear a closer look when he returned, he decided, unaware that his curiosity would forever remain unsated.
Cloud Chaser silently crept to Windrider’s side as he sat on the riverbank trying to find ways to regain his strength and vitality. He was unaccustomed to a lazy life, and his mind whirled with distracting plans. The Cheyenne warrior jumped in surprise when a hand touched his shoulder; it was nearly impossible for anything or anyone to sneak up on him! He was stunned to • find Cloud Chaser squatting there. How dare this traitorous, guileful foe calmly and boldly visit him! Fury surged through him, removing thoughts of everything but justified vengeance. The possibility that he had contaminated Cloud Chaser never entered his warring mind.
Cloud Chaser appeared worried. He knew his plot would soon be uncovered, and he would be dishonored, shamed. He tried to think of a way to save himself, realizing now that the plot had been foolish and rash. He would offer Windrider a bargain—silence for silence. As these thoughts rushed through his mind, he was completely unaware of Windrider’s anger or contagion.
“Why do you come, Cloud Chaser?” Windrider asked frostily, laying aside his hunting knife and whetstone to stare intensely at the Sioux warrior.
“We must strike a bargain, Windrider. We must tell no one of our game to separate Bright Arrow and Rebecca. When he returns—if he does—they will take another vote. They are speaking of accepting his woman. It will cause trouble if they learn of our past trick to lure her from his side. Bright Arrow will be angry if he learns you tried to steal his woman while you played his friend and helper.”
“I am his friend and helper. What trick and game do you speak of, Cloud Chaser. I did not lure Rebecca from his side. They are still mates. I have chosen another woman. Rebecca is my friend; I am her friend. There is no love or passion between us. She knows of my past desire for her. She has forgiven me. Why do you worry?” he asked innocently, placing the sharp knife in its sheath at his waist. “Come, let us walk in the forest and speak privately.”
When they were hidden from all eyes and ears, Windrider asked, “Why did you lie to me, Cloud Chaser? You did not go to the camp and speak for her. Do you fear they will learn of your deceit?”
“Who told you such things?” he snarled guiltily.
“Flaming Star,” the Cheyenne warrior replied.
“You told him of our game! You asked him about my meeting with the council? You are a fool, Windrider!” he thundered in alarm.
“You had no meeting with the Oglala council. Flaming Star learned of your deceit from Rebecca. He came to question me. I told him the truth. I told him you claimed you met with the council and they rejected her. He said there was no such meeting or vote. Why did you not tell me you were lying to her?” he demanded icily.
“You were a coward, Windrider. Your eyes and loins were captured by her. I said what you wished her to hear. You desired her. If you do not join me in this bargain, I will tell Bright Arrow and others of the nights you slept on her mat and the days you sneaked into the forest to roll on the earth in passion,” he threatened venomously.
“You lie! I have not touched her!” Windrider shouted at him.
“I saw you kiss and hold each other in the forest. I saw you go to the river together on the trail. I saw you in camp while you awaited my return. Do not tell me you have never touched or desired her! You lie!” the malevolent warrior countered.
Windrider could not deny that he had kissed her, held her, enticed her, and desired her. But that was over. They had never yielded to wild passion. Each loved another. It had been a mistake, a brief moment when hunger and suffering had weakened and controlled them, a short time when loneliness and vulnerability had drawn them together, a tempting moon when touching and comforting had been needed by both. It had not been wrong or evil. He could not allow Cloud Chaser to make it appear that way.
Windrider suddenly comprehended another reality— what if he had infected this vicious male while they verbally battled? Cloud Chaser’s unseen appearance at his side had given him no time for warning, and now there were other lives to consider. “You cannot return to your camp. I carry the death sickness. You have touched me and come near me. Now you carry it. You must remain here or you will carry it to your tribe. When you are well, we will go to see your people. We will confess our evil trick. We will beg for forgiveness and mercy.”
“No,” Cloud Chaser sneered. “If you speak against me, I will blacken the names of Windrider and Rebecca. When they question you, the guilt will show on your faces. This ugly secret will destroy your loves. I will say you lie about the meeting. I will say you lie about me. Kajihah will say I speak the truth. Sucoora and the white captive will prove my claims. All know of your lust for Rebecca. Why do you think Bright Arrow did not leave her here within your reach?” he taunted.
“You are evil, Cloud Chaser. I will not let you hurt others.”
“If you try to stop me, I will slay all you love,” the man warned. “Hold your tongue, Windrider, or your loved ones will feel my blade.”
Cloud Chaser turned and walked away. Windrider called out for him to halt. He again warned of the danger of the disease, but Cloud Chaser laughed coldly and kept walking. Windrider drew the knife from his sheath and held it securely by the blade tip. He brought his arm over his shoulder, then jerked it forward, expertly releasing the knife. There was a dull thud as it entered the retreating man’s back. Cloud Chaser pitched forward, dead when he struck the ground.
White Antelope arrived on the scene, having come in search of his friend. Windrider shook his head and informed him, “He refused to heed my warnings. I was too weak to fight him. I could not let him carry the sickness and death to the Oglala. He was frightened and tried to flee. I begged him to stop, to remain here until he was healed. I must bury him; he touched me. You ride to his camp and tell his people of his death.”
“No,” his friend argued. “I will bury him in secret. His death will cause panic and anger. He was a great warrior. We will tell no one.”
Windrider cleared his mind of anger and his heart of hatred. He realized White Antelope was right, but for reasons only Windrider understood. He couldn’t allow questions and suspicions to arise about this incident. The Sioux would never believe that Cloud Chaser would endanger their camp by taking the disease there. They would wonder why Cloud Chaser was afraid to remain with his friend Windrider. Murder—especially of a warrior from another tribe—was considered a grave act. Too many questions and doubts would arise from this deed. Windrider decided that Cloud Chaser’s evil plot would have to be buried with him.
In the Yankton camp, Rebecca was helping Laughing Face near Red Tomahawk’s tepee when a white man walked over to them. His hair had been recently cut and his face was clean shaven. She couldn’t help but notice that his buckskins were freshly scrubbed and his body smelled of fragrant soap. Rebecca was quick to realize that he did not reek of whiskey or display crude manners and speech. The overall impression he conveyed was delightful to Rebecca—just as he had intended.
He spoke to the Indian woman, then introduced himself to Rebecca as James Murdock, a name familiar to her from many of her husband’s conversations. He promptly and cheerfully added, “But ever’one calls me Murray. Laughing Face tells me yore a vis’ter. Shame, we don’t gits many perty ladies down this here way. Sure would like to have you brighten this area fur a long spell,” he remarked with politeness and geniality that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. He chuckled happily.
“I wuz asking Laughing Face if my friend Pierre Dorion wuz around. She tol’ me he’s gone to the trading fair with the chief and his son. Guess that means ole Murray’ll hafta hang around till he returns. Course I kin use a rest and good vittles; don’t git ‘em on the trail. Here I go rattlin’ me tongue likes we knowed each other. Sorry, Ma’am, ole Murray gits wound up when he’s around folks agin. I’ll be seein’ ya,” he stated pleasantly as he nodded his head, then walked away.
Rebecca watched the man approach a group of elderly Indians. He sat down and began to exchange tales with them. From his easy acceptance and the Indians’ cordial manner, she assumed he was familiar to them, surely a good and respected friend. She returned to her chore, unaware of just how wrong and dangerous her conclusions were…
Billy Culpepper sneaked another look at his unsuspecting prey. She was pretty, but nothing to die for; and surely those two graves near her cabin belonged to his two reckless friends. She had bloody hands! Revenge was the law of the wilderness, and he must see it met. She was brighter than he had expected, he mused. Then again, she had defeated Lester and Jess. He cautioned himself to patience, congratulating himself on his first cunning and successful meeting…
Later that afternoon, Billy returned to Red Tomahawk’s tepee. He told Rebecca he was a friend to the chief and his son, and she was readily convinced of his lie. Billy slyly asked, “Is there anything I kin do fur you an’ the other womenfolk while the men are away—hunt fresh game or protect you all while you gather wood? This here area’s perty safe, but you cain’t ever tell when some bad seed’s gonna drop in. I holds it my duty to take care of my friends and theys families.”
Rebecca replied, “Thank you, Murray, but I think we have matters under control. These people are fortunate to have such a good friend as you.” Oddly, she didn’t think to tell him who her husband was, and it didn’t seem necessary to warn him she was married, for he seemed perfectly behaved around her and the other women.
Billy hung around and chatted amiably, guilefully. He did some magic tricks for Rebecca’s girls, causing them to laugh and smile. The two girls watched eagerly as he carved wooden dolls for them. He appeared to have an easy rapport with all the children. Since Laughing Face had seen this white man many times, she thought nothing unusual of his presence. She had no way of knowing that he had lied to Rebecca and was attempting to lure her away from the others to harm her. Tragically, she and the other Yanktons were aiding his evil plans.
Billy knew how to communicate in sign language and Nakota, the tongue Rebecca was presently learning. Any time Laughing Face was separated from Rebecca, Billy cleverly used the opportunity to converse and joke with the Chiefs jocular wife. Observing this behavior, Rebecca naturally assumed the two were well acquainted. She saw no reason to fear or avoid a close friend of the chief’s. By the time two days had ended, Billy had Rebecca completely fooled. In a few more days, he would be able to spring his snare.
Billy carried out his plan with a patience and cunning unsuspected by anyone. He claimed to be waiting for Pierre Dorion’s return from the trade fair. As he was a friend and sometime trapping partner of Pierre’s, he was staying in his tepee with the Frenchman’s family. That afternoon and the next day, he went with Rebecca and other women to gather wood and fetch water, giving his share to those of Pierre’s tepee as gratitude for their hospitality. During these periods, he casually asked Rebecca many questions and related many interesting and amusing tales.
Rebecca’s mind was too ensnared by personal thoughts and feelings to enable her to realize that “Murray” hadn’t asked about “Clay.” Winter was only weeks away, and there was much work to be done by the women. Rebecca had been trying very hard to keep busy, to repay her debt to these people and to keep her mind off her past and present dilemmas. Moon Eyes had been dead for over a month. She was relieved that her other daughter had stopped asking about her sister so frequently, understanding that a child’s attention span was shorter at her age. After so many weeks and with many activities to fill her day, Little Feet unconsciously thought less and less about Moon Eyes as her mind began to heal itself from its sadness and suffering. As for Tashina, she was too young to recall a sister who had been absent for so long. To see their acceptance of Moon Eyes’s death saddened Rebecca, yet she knew it was best. As much as she hated to admit it, Rebecca realized that the hardships and terror surrounding her child’s death would be easier not to recall. At times reality seemed to all of them merely a thing of the moment.
Rebecca was glad to see her two daughters adapting so well to their new surroundings. They were enjoying their friends and the attention they received, and this made it simpler for Rebecca to immerse herself in mindconsuming and energy-draining labor. From Bright Arrow’s words and the distance involved in his mission, she knew it would be at least a week or two before his return, and probably longer.
Clearly “Murray” was a good hunter; he brought in fresh game each day, game with lovely hides to cure for winter garments, hides that he passed out to the women to gain their affection and gratitude. He had brought along many gifts for the Yanktons, which he passed out in secret. These presents increased his excellent reception by the Indians, and he was invited to many tepees for meals and visits. He spent time with the other men, relating the news from other areas. Each day, he craftily wormed his way deeper into the villagers’ lives and confidences. And still Rebecca had no idea this was merely a game with him.
Rebecca found the man affable and generous. She had been given no reason to mistrust or dislike or fear him. In her vulnerable and distracted state, Rebecca was too naive and trusting where this man was concerned. After three days of close contact, she felt she knew him fairly well. Why should she be suspicious? He was accepted without a second thought in the camp.
As she and other women gathered wood the next day, “Murray” joined them. He talked with Rebecca about many things. She had told him that her husband was a guide and hunter for the Lewis and Clark expedition, to explain his absence. She had said he would return soon and they would head home to their cabin, to trap for the winter. When Billy asked his name, she said, “Clay Rivera.”
“Yo’re joshin’ me!” he shrieked excitedly. “I knows Clay Rivery. Me ‘n’ him jawed lots of times when he came to the tradin’ post or traders’ camps. He shore knows how to trap ‘n’ hunt. Never seen prettier or better pelts ‘n’ hides. Course Clay’s pretty much a loner, like me. Don’t talk much when he comes in. ‘Less it’s to the second best trapper, which is me,” he teased, then chuckled. “I wuz the one who give ‘im that last knife he brung home. He came on me whilst two thieves wuz tryin’ to take me whole winter cache. If’n it wuzn’t fur Clay, I wouldn’t be standin’ here jawing with his wife.”
He smiled at Rebecca and told her to thank Clay again for saving his life and cache. “He wouldn’t e’en take narry a hide or gift. Ya gots yoreself a fine man in Clay Rivery. Shore would like to partner up with him. Trappin’s hard these days, Rebecca. Too many doodlies tryin’ to kill ya and rob ya. Ain’t safe to trap alone likes in the old days. If’n ya gits a partner, ya hasta split right down the middle. Sometimes ya don’t takes twixt as many with two trappers. It’s downright hard to makes a good livin’ these days,” he muttered, then sighed dejectedly. “Course trappin’s in me blood.” He laughed merrily.
Rebecca halted to tie up her bundle of wood. “Where do you live and trap, Murray?” she inquired, glancing over at him.
“Up the Missouri, toward the Two Kettle camp. Old Turkey Head don’t mind white trappers. Ya takes Wamdesapa and The Partizan; they don’t likes whites. They’d kilt ya If’n ya turns ya back to ‘em. It’s good trappin’ in Red Thunder’s area; he’s chief of them Sissetons ‘round Lake Traverse. That Minneconjou Black Buffalo ain’t bad.”
Billy helped her position the wood sling on her back, then retrieved the other one to carry. “Thanks, Murray. Who is this Wam… whatever?” she asked, having heard of the other chiefs and tribes.
“Wamdesapa. He’s real bad, Rebecca. He hates all whites, like them Sioux. He’s chief of the Wahpekutes, over that way,” he informed her, pointing northeast. “I got meself outao them woodlands. Yessiree, I tries to stay outa them Wahpekutes’ way.”
“Most Indian tribes don’t bother you, do they?” she asked.
“Naw. Course I been here since I wuz a pup. They knows me, knows they kin trust old James Murdock. I kin go most places and trap. If I gits sick or lonesome, I got me friends ever’where in these parts. Ya knows what I means. Sometimes a trapper don’t see nobody fur months. One of these here days I guess I’ll git me a woman like Pierre and Clay done and settles down in a fine cabin. I shore ain’t gittin’ no younger or prettier,” he jested, then roared with laughter.
Rebecca laughed at his humorous expression and words. He added conspiratorially in a whisper, “I got me eye and heart set on this fine Blackfoot girl. She’s perty as a flower and real smart. I’ve knowed her fur years. Me ‘n’ her pa’s good friends. He knows she feels the same ‘bout me. I stops by theys camp ever time I’m ‘round. She comes of marryin’ age next spring. If’n I has me a good cache this winter, I’m gonna trade fur’er,” he announced smugly. “A good man shouldn’t live alone, now should he, Rebecca?” he teased comically.
“No, Murray, a man shouldn’t live alone,” she replied mirthfully.
Early the next day, the jovial man returned to camp with an elk. He told Rebecca she could have the hide to make fur moccasins and garments for her children. After he carefully skinned the animal, he sliced off hunks of meat for Red Tomahawk’s tepee. As he worked, he asked, “Clay ever takes ya to that Spirit Mound downriver a piece?” he questioned nonchalantly. Knowing her identity and predicament from Pierre, he guilefully began to set his irresistible trap. When she shook her head, he whistled eerily. “Won’t no Indians go near it. They’s sceered to death of it. Says it’s a place with powerful, bad magic ‘n’ evil. Theys believes devils ‘n’ demons live there. Theys says them devils ‘n’ demons got little bodies,” he murmured, holding his hand near his knees, “and great big heads,” he added, curving his arms around his head to indicate an immense circle.
While Rebecca waited for him to complete his chore so she could carry the meat to Laughing Face, he casually continued his tale. “It ain’t just the Yanktons afeared of that place; no Indian tribe or member will put a toe on that spot. Theys says them devils V demons got magic. bows ‘n’ arrows. Theys think they kin kill anybody who comes miles near that spot. Ain’t nothing kin make an Indian go near Spirit Mound. Theys says if any white goes there and comes back alive, it means they’s got powerful magic; they’s protected by the heaven spirits. No one harms a man who’s been to Spirit Mound.”
Billy knew he had caught her interest and full attention. “I been there twice, and I got me a bag of them rocks. I give ‘em as gifts to chiefs and warriors. Theys thinks Murray ain’t afeared of nothing. Theys afeared to do me harm. Theys let me comes and goes as I wants. Nobody tangles with someone who’s been to Spirit Mound and returned alive. Yessiree, them rocks makes good gifts and weapons. You oughta gits old Clay to takes you; it’s somethin’ to see. Ya mights has needs of some of them magic rocks one day,” he hinted provocatively.
“Isn’t that dangerous?” she questioned, her curiosity rising.
“Nope. ‘Cause no one dares to go near it. Theys thinks I passes my powerful magic to them rocks. Theys carries ‘em around as good-luck charms. That’s how I gots away from them Wahpekutes. Ever’body knows Murray’s been to Spirit Mound and survived. Theys respects me, and fears me. When I had me two bad trappin’ seasons, I used them rocks to trade fur food and weapons. You ‘n’ Clay oughta gits some to carry home. Cain’t tell when ya mights needs somethin’ valuable to trade, or to sceer off enemies. Ask Laughing Face; theys powerful afeared of such magic. Won’t nobody turns theys backs on me, or anyone who comes outa there alive,” he declared confidently.
It was true that Murray had been there twice; it was true that the Indians feared and avoided that location. If she questioned anyone about his claims, he knew his words would seem accurate and honest. His story was a great temptation to someone trying to earn acceptance and respect from Indians.
“I’m heading over there tomorrow. Ya wants me to bring ya a few rocks?” he offered. “If’n ya wants, ya kin comes along.”
Rebecca contemplated this intriguing possibility. “How far is Spirit Mound?” she asked, recalling her love’s acquaintance with Murray. He had spoken highly and affectionately of that white man.
“About two hours’ canoe ride. I’ll be going and coming afore the sun’s overhead. Ain’t no need to sleep there again. I dun proved my courage and magic. Ya wants to go see ‘er?” he invited cordially.
Laughing Face joined them. In the Yankton tongue, Billy told the woman his plans. Fear and tension lined the woman’s face. When Billy said that Rebecca might go with him to prove her courage and magic, the woman fretted and shuddered. She warned Rebecca to stay away from that evil place. Billy laughingly translated the woman’s words, then craftily asked the woman to show Rebecca her magic rock. Laughing Face pulled the small rock from beneath her buckskin dress. It was imprisoned by thongs on a long tie and worn as a necklace.
Billy told Rebecca the woman always wore it to ward off evil and danger. He claimed he had given it to her. Rebecca was hooked on his devious line. She knew that Bright Arrow would win his return home with his actions. She knew the Oglala would accept the two girls. She concluded that her visit to Spirit Mound could ensure her own acceptance and respect. Too much had happened lately, and she wasn’t thinking wisely or clearly. And Billy had won her trust.
That night, Rebecca lay awake for many hours. She couldn’t believe she had agreed to go on a trip to Spirit Mound, even with a trusted friend of Bright Arrow’s and the Yanktons, and even if the trip only required one day and night. She was a brave and daring person, but she was a married woman. Reservations filled her. Her decision had been too hasty and impulsive. The idea was marvelous, but it should be carried out with Bright Arrow and not his friend. It wasn’t that she couldn’t leave the girls in the care of the Yankton women, and it wasn’t that she expected her husband to return any time soon, and it wasn’t that she was afraid of Murray. It just didn’t seem proper for her to spend the night alone with another man. After all, look what trouble had come from her trip with Windrider—and they hadn’t exactly been alone! Tomorrow she would tell Murray she had changed her mind. She closed her eyes and slept peacefully.
Rebecca returned from the river with two bags of fresh water. It was very early and few tepees had stirred to life. Laughing Face was preparing a fire to cook the morning meal when the others awakened. She was chatting with Murray as Rebecca approached them.
He swept off his fur hat and nodded his head in respect. He smiled lightheartedly and greeted her. “Mornin’ Rebecca. I wuz just telling Laughing Face our plans. She thinks yore the bravest woman she knows. You’ll hafta make sure you give her one of yore magic rocks.” He had spoken with the Indian woman for a time, clearly arguing Rebecca’s incredible decision when the woman disagreed with it. Billy explained why Rebecca wanted to go—to win acceptance and approval from the Oglala. Cleverly playing both sides of this game, Billy convinced the woman it was a good idea, claiming he would protect Rebecca from any harm. The woman grudgingly yielded, as it was not her place to command this white visitor. Besides, Rebecca would return in one day, and this man was Rebecca’s trusted friend.
While Laughing Face focused her attention on her task, Rebecca gave Billy her distressing and unacceptable news. She smiled ruefully and told him she had changed her mind. “I can’t go, Murray. There’s so much work to be done here. I can’t ask busy women to look after my children while I go collecting magic rocks. When Clay returns, I’ll have him take me before we head home.”
The finality in her tone was unmistakably clear. Billy had suspected she might change her mind. He was prepared not to expose his dark feelings but to switch to his backup plan. He smiled in sunny resignation and told her it was fine, for he had other matters to handle.
His tone was almost musical as he lightly replied, “Ain’t no never mind. Be more fun with Clay and yore girls. Pierre’s wife and daughter are heading to pick some medicine plants upriver. I wuz gonna guard ‘em in the woods afore we left. I came over to say we couldn’t leave till later. Thought Laughing Face might need some healing herbs. You wanna go along and git some for her? Won’t take more’n an hour.”
Rebecca said it was fine with her if Laughing Face needed and wanted the plants. In the Nakota tongue, which Rebecca had not yet mastered, Billy deceitfully asked Laughing Face if she wanted Rebecca to bring her any magic tokens from Spirit Mound. The woman went into the tepee and brought out a leather bag. She smiled her gratitude and handed it to Rebecca as Billy told the unsuspecting white girl it was for the medicine plants.
Rebecca Kenny and Billy Culpepper set out for the riverbank where Billy said Pierre’s wife and daughter would join them. When they reached it, Billy pointed upstream and said the women were waiting in a clearing not far away. They walked for a time, and Rebecca gradually realized they had traveled much too long. She wondered why they were continuing and if there were some mix-up in the meeting place. “Murray” had told her the location wasn’t far. “Murray, haven’t we—” As she turned to question her companion, Billy’s pistol butt landed across her temple, cutting off her words and rendering her unconscious.
Billy glanced around, finding no one in sight. He would have slain anyone who tried to interfere with his evil scheme. Lifting Rebecca’s limp frame, he carried her into the woods. After locating a sizable hollow tree, he bound and gagged her, then shoved her inside the dark confinement. He placed large rocks and heavy brush at both ends, trapping her in a helpless position should she awaken. He eyed his clever handiwork and chuckled satanically. Everyone would believe she was heading for Spirit Mound, so she wouldn’t be missed for two days, which would give him a considerable head start. She couldn’t get out of her wooden prison, and she wouldn’t be heard through it and her gag. She was his helpless captive. He crept back to the camp, careful to stay out of Laughing Face’s sight.
While most Yanktons were busy starting the new day, Billy gathered his belongings and two horses. He bid Pierre’s family farewell and left. When he returned to where he had concealed Rebecca, he found she was still unconscious. He tossed her over the other horse and secured her to the Army saddle. His chilling laughter filled the silence in the forest, as he anticipated that this woman of Bright Arrow’s would make a nice gift for his Crow friend, Chief Arapoosh…