by Rita Hestand
"Earl was a bad man. Once you tell him what he was trying to do. The proof is in your clothes, look at you!" he told her.
She shook her head, "You don't understand. I can't expect you to understand my plight." She wailed. "You don't know him or me!"
He glanced at her now, "Why, because I'm an Indian? Is that the reason you don't think I can understand?" His arrogance asserted itself as he shook his head with impatience.
She looked at him with a sense of terror in her eyes. She sighed with resignation. "I guess it no longer matters. I'm doomed no matter what I do!" She looked at him now strangely, "You don't know me either! I guess I can't under the circumstances expect you to help me." her voice wailed miserably as she turned away from him.
"I thought I already helped you by killing this Earl.
I know this man you called Earl was attacking you, you didn't want him to, and now he is dead. That much I know. I thought it would help. That is all I need to know. If you are sorry, he is dead, I suggest you go home and mourn him."
"Oh, for goodness sake. I am not sorry about Earl!" she shouted. "I'm sorry that my father will not understand it. I'm sorry I came out here. I'm sorry I'm alive!" she cried, turning away from him again.
She was exasperated and scared to death, he noted. Her limbs were shaking, tears were in her eyes. He sighed and turned her around to look her in the face. "Lady, never be sorry you are alive! The Creator has deemed it so. Be thankful."
"The Creator?" she twisted her head. "You mean God?"
"Yes, that is what you call him, I believe."
"Y-you believe in God?" she asked with a spark of hope in her eyes.
"Don't you?" he questioned.
"Of course, I do."
"Then we have something in common." He smiled and gave her some jerky.
"Thank you." She offered him a drink and he took it gladly now. She took the jerky and chewed it. It was as though she didn't realize she was eating, just going through the motions.
"What am I going to do with you?" He shook his head. "You are a mess!"
"Well excuse the heck out of me, I didn't have time to change my clothes. And you will do nothing with me?" she said, her brow going up. "I can do anything you can do."
He rolled his eyes as though he couldn’t quite believe her. "Even you should know you cannot traipse around the countryside with an Indian. And especially looking like you do now!" He told her, as though she should have known it all along.
"Right now, the way I look is beside the point. Escaping is the point. I have no choice, any longer. You have no idea how much trouble I'm in now. You and I are the only ones that know the truth. If I lose you, I lose a witness to my innocence. Did you not think I thought of killing him myself?" She asked as she kicked a branch away from her feet.
The way she kicked it told him she was silently angry, but at who?
"Killing him yourself?" He turned away with exasperation and a bit of arrogance. "Then why didn't you?" He asked staring.
"Because," she hiccupped. "My life is hard enough without having to go to jail."
"Aw… now I begin to understand. But do you honestly believe they would believe me? I am the innocent one. All I wanted was to get out of the storm. Had you not raised your voice, and sounded so desperate, I would never have killed him." Then after eyeing her carefully he went on. "Or perhaps I should have let him do what he wanted."
She glanced at him, all of him, in his leather breechcloth and long leggings. He wore no shirt, and only a group of feathers dangled from his hair, he wore an attractive necklace around his neck that fascinated her.
The sun had come out and was already heating up the earth, a light sweat peppered her skin. Shining Moon took her all in too.
She grit her teeth, "You're all I have to tell the truth. I'm a teacher, well respected in my community, but after this… I will have no future. My father will see to that. My life is doomed."
He thought about it a moment. "I suppose, you are right, at least about that. It would be a scandal to be caught in the woods, with your torn dress and me, an Indian. It would be a scandal for your father to find you in the barn with a dead man. But you think nothing of the fact that I killed a man for your sake, do you? I protected you in case you don't realize it, Lady."
Chapter Two
He had left her speechless, and that was a good thing. He sighed heavily and then shook his head, "Come on." Without thought, Shining Moon pulled her along the countryside, running into the new dawn. He didn't stop to wonder if he was doing the right thing. He needed to get far away from her farm. She at least had sensible boots for this kind of travel, his mind wandered, but she seemed fairly clumsy in them.
Her father didn't follow, she kept looking over her shoulder to see if he would. She was obviously petrified of the man. Why would a white woman be afraid of her father? Would he not take the side of his own daughter?
Much later as they slowed down, she stared when they stopped for a drink of water at a creek. She was out of breath and her cheeks were red.
"You really killed him." She cried. "Oh my God, I can't believe it, you killed him because of me!"
Had she been asleep all this time. She just now understood what happened in the barn?
Had she been in a trance, a stupor? He studied her from a distance now. She was a beautiful little thing, wrapped in a knot of hysteria that would explode any moment, he feared.
"I did what I had to do. That's all." He told her. "And we must run for our lives. Sometimes heavy decisions are made in the blink of an eye. And right now, we don't have time to discuss it."
"But Earl was attacking me. The cloths prove it. And despite what you may think of me, my father would not believe it. He would not believe the truth. Especially since he would not have seen you there. So, I would be left to blame for Earl's death. That is why I follow you. You are the only one that knows the truth aside from me. And if they arrest me, and give me a trial, I must tell the truth and you must tell it also."
He stopped and turned to look at her, "If he'd caught me in there, who do you think he would blame for your dress?"
"You!" her eyes widened. "Oh my God. I didn't mean for this to happen. But I couldn't just let Earl paw me like a whore! I am sorry, I have caused this. You're right, but I'm sorry, I cannot go back." It suddenly dawned on her why it happened in the first place. Shining Moon seemed amazed it took her so long. But after staring her up and down a moment he realized, she was in some sort of shock. She wasn't making total sense yet.
Women were definitely hard to understand.
He needed patience with this woman. She was a real walking disaster. Still, somewhere in the back of his mind he found her interesting and very appealing, although he wouldn't be telling her that. His eyes shone and a slight smile curved his mouth. "Lady, we've been over the issue too many times and nothing is accomplished. It is of no consequence as one crime is as bad as another. Had your father walked in, he would have assumed, I was attacking you and Earl was defending you. There would be no arrest or trial. He would've hanged me sure. And the law wouldn't touch such a thing, because I am an Indian, I would be at fault."
Her eyes flitted about the countryside, not seeing. But she turned to look him in the eye again. It was as if her mind was working way too quickly.
"You're right. Yes, they'd make Earl look like the hero." She glanced up into his face, "Your right! Oh my God, this isn't right! How can the innocent be guilty and the guilty be innocent?"
"What the eyes see is not always right."
She looked up into his face. "I-I suppose that's true too." She looked at him. "But… what are we going to do about it?"
We!
"We'll run until we are safe. Then you may go your way."
He took her hand pulling her behind him. She tried to keep up with him, but it was hard. She wasn't used to running over rough terrain. And the boots she had on was adding to her discomfort. He held her hand so she wouldn't lag behind.
"Wh
at is your name?" she asked out of the blue as they ran.
"Shining Moon."
"That's too long for a first name, I'll just call you Moon."
He smiled, "And your name?"
"Melissa."
"I will call you Lissa, then."
She smiled back. "I like that. No one's called me that before. I should thank you." she said becoming breathless from the quick maneuvering over an uneven terrain. There was so much brush and branches about. She stumbled several times. "I don’t understand why you protected me. You don’t even know me. And you must have known it would put you in a perilous position."
He stopped for a minute. "You are a woman. You were in trouble. It is a man's job to save a woman when she is in trouble, is it not?"
"I don't know anyone that would have butted into that, this morning. And you being an Indian, I don't understand why you did. You had to have thought about it, before you acted."
"Some things are done because they must be done, it has no reasoning to it. I suppose you could say I simply reacted to your cry for help."
"It is strange. My father would not be fair in his judgement. Even though he worked with the Indians for a long time. He'd condemn me as a whore and you as a murderer without regard."
He stopped for a second and glanced at her.
"I would never have come forward, but this Earl was pushing you into something you did not want. I felt I must stop him. I could not watch and let him take you."
"Why did you care?" she asked, stopping for a moment to get a breath. "That's what makes no sense to me. I am a stranger, and a white even. Perhaps if I were Indian, I could understand it. But you had to have known it would put you in a world of trouble."
"Sometimes we do not weigh the trouble, against what is happening. There is no time. I suppose you did not realize how clear you made it to this man that you did not want his attentions. I saw you struggling to fight him off. I would not have been much of a man to let you scream and him take you."
"I've made it clear to Earl many times, but this time he was a bit more forceful. He was hungover, and in a nasty mood. But if that's why you did it, it's quite honorable."
He smiled sardonically, "Yes, I noticed that. He smelled of whiskey."
He took her hand and pulled her along.
Wanting to forget what had happened, she changed the subject. "I haven't even asked. Who are you? Where do you come from? You speak English very well for an Indian," she glanced at him again.
"Thank you," he smiled over his shoulder, "an old miner named Jack taught me. Him and the mission schools. I was eager to learn the English language. I read the entire bible and I loved it. There were so many battles and lessons to learn inside it. I could not put it down." He said gripping her hand tighter and pulling her. They went through a clump of brush with nettles on them and she shrieked as it tore more of her dress. Then he stopped once more for another drink of water. She took the canteen and drank her fill, it was cold and refreshing.
"Really, he taught you well. So, where does this old miner live?" She asked as she found a big rock to sit on and rest.
"In the rocky hills."
"Is he a gold miner?" she asked out of curiosity.
"Yes, he is."
"How did you come to know him?"
"You ask a lot of questions." He shot her a frown.
"I'm sorry, just naturally curious. Besides, talking makes our journey more interesting."
He stopped looked at her and shrugged. "I mistakenly shot Jack with an arrow once, nearly killed him." When she looked puzzled, he went on to explain, "He was moving about in the woods, and I mistook him for a deer. I shot him and went to get him and found he was an old timer. I nursed him back to health and we became friends."
"You shot him, and then you became friends," she chuckled.
"With an arrow, not a gun, it was not intentional."
"And he forgave you?"
"Yes, as I nursed him back to health, and then he realized he liked me. We've been friends and partners ever since."
He stopped as she was slowing down, stared at her. "You are not used to running?"
"No, walking yes, but not running. And not in boots that are at least two sizes too big." She tried to catch her breath. He nodded impatiently at her.
He gave her a moment to catch her breath, then looked at her. "If you have caught your breath, we must run some more, we are not far enough away yet."
She nodded. "You want another drink?" she asked.
"Yes, thank you."
Sometime later she asked as they ran.
"Don't you live with a tribe?"
Moon turned his head away. "Once long ago, no more."
"Why?"
"It is hard to explain." He stopped though, "Listen, we need to run for a while to get as far away as we can. You must be quiet and run with me, understand? Talking only takes your breath away."
She nodded.
She stared at him, not liking the fact that she found him handsome. His body was lean, he was a few inches taller than her and, his broad chest narrowed at his waist. His body was solid, but hard and muscular.
Later when they paused to rest. She watched him move about restlessly.
"We certainly have enough time for you to tell me now." She smiled as he stopped and turned to look at her.
His glance went up and down her for a moment, appreciating the ample skin at her chest and breasts. She was endowed with ample breasts and it was hard to take his eyes from her, it seemed pronounced since she was little everywhere else. Under the ugly dress she wore was a beautiful lace thing that made her softer, lovelier.
He handed her some jerky and she chewed on it.
"My tribe was Arapaho." He told her taking some jerky for himself and resting on a fallen log. She sat on it beside him now. "After the death of the yellow haired one, my tribe went to the reservation, there were many wars before this though, I sought another life. A peaceful life, but Indian."
"You didn't go to the reservation?"
"No! When I saw what we did to the Yellow Haired one, I no longer wanted to war. I had no compassion for him, but for the way we outnumbered his men. And I felt for the men under him. Men who had no choice but to fight. And they all died. We outnumbered him greatly, it was not a victory, it was a massacre. There had been many massacres back then. On both sides. I was young, just coming into my manhood. Some of my people joined the Sioux and Cheyenne in that battle. After that other white men came and made war. I sought peace, but not at the reservation. So, my father told me to go my own way. To live my life free."
"He sent you away?"
"I like to think he gave me his blessings to find another life."
She stared at him now. "And this yellow haired man, you are talking about is General Custer?"
"Yes. You know of him?"
"I have heard of him. Somethings he did were very bold things, other times he was cruel, quite intentionally."
"It is not him I felt sorry for, although to lose in battle with such great odds is a pity for such a man. I worried about all of his men who had to fight. It is like when a chief declares war, and the warriors debate how wise a chief he is. That is how I felt about Custer."
"I can understand that."
He stared at her. "I heard this Earl say you were a schoolteacher?"
"Was is right. Yes, I believe he referred to me as an old-maid schoolteacher." She sighed.
"It is not right for him to say such things to you, when he wanted you. When a man wants a woman, he can talk to her plainly, but never disrespectfully, as she is what he wants."
The tenderness of his words shocked her. She hadn't expected them. He spoke softly like a poet.
He seemed too educated to be an Indian, yet, he certainly dressed as one. He was powerfully built. His hair was long and sleek and black, it shone in the sun. His eyes were a warm brown. He was very Indian, and very handsome.
"Have you seen your people lately" she asked.
"No."
"Not even your father?" she asked.
"No, he died not long after his people joined the reservation. When a man is free to roam all his life and suddenly is penned up like a bird in a cage, his spirit begins to die."
"I'm sorry for you father." She looked at him again. "If you accept the white man's ways, why don't you dress like one."
He stared at her now. "My way of dress offends you?"
"No, I've seen others dressed like you in the villages I've been in. I just wondered why you keep your Indian clothes. Even though you speak like a white man, you have not conformed to all the white man's ways. Many of the scouts at the fort wear white men's clothes. But you wear your tribes' clothes."
"You have been to villages?"
"Yes."
"Indian villages?"
"Yes."
"Why would a white woman go to an Indian Village?" He twisted his head in question.
"My father was an Indian agent."
He tossed his head arrogantly. "An Indian agent. I see."
"You didn't answer my question."
"It would not take away the Indian in me to dress differently. But our clothes are more fitting for moving about freely. Out here in the wilderness, one must climb, run, jump even, these clothes are made for such things. In the winter I do tend to dress like the white man, especially around Jack. I do not accept all the white man's ways. Only part. I am still very much an Indian and choose to be. I just refuse to live on a reservation. I have scouted for the army. I have worked with a blacksmith. I have learned a lot of the white man's ways, and his tongue quite well. But in the wilderness, I am all Indian."
"You certainly are," she remarked as her eyes went over him again.
After thinking about what he said she added. "I've seen a couple of reservations, none of the people there looked happy." She said in a tone of sympathy.
He looked away and then back at her, as though he didn't believe her. "You traveled with your father?" He glanced at her as though she had a forked tongue.
"I went with him after my mother died. He didn't want to leave me alone, as I have no brothers and sisters." She explained simply.