Daisy was starting to panic but there was no way to get down from the horse that was traveling at a steady clip, and the ground was moving much too fast beneath its hooves for Daisy to feel safe jumping down. Besides, the boy had his arm snugly around her waist to keep her from falling off.
It dawned on Daisy that the boy had no intention of taking her to the wagon train. Instead, he was taking her farther and farther away from where he found her, and her small thread of hope started to unravel.
She tried distracting herself by looking at the landscape around her that was turning hilly where more trees sprouted up, casting leafy shadows over them as they followed the river. Maybe she could find her way back, she told herself as she tried to remember landmarks along the way. Gray Wolf turned Cricket, climbing a small rise. When they reached the top, Daisy’s eyes was met with the sight of endless cone-shaped tents gathered at the base of the hill. She knew a teepee when she saw one and realized they were going to an Indian village. This frightened her even more and she started to stiffen.
“No! No!” she cried. “Don’t take me down there!”
Gray Wolf merely tightened his grip on Daisy’s waist and clicked his tongue at Cricket, letting the horse descend to the village, below, with Rags at its heels.
Fingers of smoke rose up from the many campfires at the village and mingled with white clouds above. The muffled sounds of people talking, and dogs barking, reached Daisy’s ears from a distance, pulling her into this new, strange, environment in an uncanny way. Daisy didn’t know whether she was more frightened or excited about actually seeing an Indian village. Before they approached the teepees, a group of children had gathered and were trotting beside them, all talking in that strange language that lilted in a singsong manner as it fell from inquisitive lips.
“What have you got there?” Sleepy Fox called. “Where did you steal her? You should earn coup for capturing her! Your father will be proud!”
“She is ugly!” Merry Morning, scoffed. “All white people are ugly! Does that ugly dog belong to her? They seem to match!”
“Look at her eyes!” Little Hen exclaimed, pointing at Daisy’s eyes that were glaring at all of them. “They are the color of the sky. White people have such peculiar eyes!”
“Are you going to keep her?” Talking Dog, asked, reaching up and pulling on one of her long braids.
Daisy slapped his hand. “Don’t touch me!” she yelled at him. Rags started yapping at his heels and he gave the dog a kick, but Rags managed to sidestep, causing the young boy to lose his balance. The other children started laughing. Talking Dog jumped up and began to chase Rags, causing Daisy to start screeching for him to stop chasing her dog.
“You are frightening her!” Gray Wolf complained. “I told her I wouldn’t let anything happen to her. She was lost. I decided to bring her to our village and see what I should do with her. Leave the dog alone!”
Talking Dog, glowered at Gray Wolf, but obeyed him. After all, Gray Wolf was the son of one of the Chiefs.
“She will be adopted into our tribe,” Sleepy Fox predicted. “Your mother and father will take her in as part of your family. You will have a new little sister.”
Gray Wolf smiled. The thought of having a little sister appealed to him. He liked her the moment he saw her, disguised as a flower. He could tell she was a child of the earth.
Chief Beaver and Sky Lark looked down at the little girl that Gray Wolf was presenting to them. She was looking curiously about, as they stood outside of their lodge. A wilted wreath of daisies clung lopsidedly on her head. The girl’s puckered face appeared frightened, yet she had such strange colored, probing eyes staring out at them in wonder, they thought.
“Where are her parents?” Chief Beaver asked his son.
Gray Wolf shrugged. “She was all alone in the flowers. I call her Little Flower. I think she got lost, so I brought her here.”
“We cannot take her to her family since we don’t know where her family is,” Sky Lark murmured. She was thinking she would like to have a daughter. She almost resembled them with her long black hair, except for those expressive eyes. She was certain the girl had a special soul.
“Where your mother and father?” Chief Beaver asked Daisy in halting English.
Daisy was surprised that he spoke her language. Her eyes brightened. Now he would surely make the boy take her back to the wagons. She shrugged. “I don’t know. They are with the wagons. Now the wagons are far away.”
“You come with white trespassers,” Chief Beaver frowned.
“We are going to California,” Becky tried to explain.
“I not know that place. I not know where your people are. You will stay here with Sky Lark, my son Gray Wolf, and me now.”
“My mother will cry if I don’t go back,” Daisy cried.
“What do they call you?” Chief Beaver asked, ignoring her statement.
“Daisy; like the flowers in my hair.”
Chief Beaver smiled. “My son must be wise. He has given you the name Little Flower. We will call you that now.”
“You can’t keep me! I need to go with my family to California!”
“If they come to look for you, we will give you back. Until they come, we will care for you. You have a home with us. You will be like our own daughter.” He gave a knowing smile to Sky Lark. They had tried to have more children, but after Gray Wolf was born, she never conceived again. Although Chief Beaver could have taken a second wife to bear more children for him, Sky Lark would have had to agree, and he knew she wouldn’t. However, she had always longed for a daughter.
Daisy looked worriedly from one person to the other, her eyes finally resting on Gray Wolf who was smiling reassuringly at her. They seemed kind and the father spoke her language, which made her feel better. She just hoped her father would come get her soon.
CHAPTER ONE
(Eleven years later)
“Can you keep a secret?” Little Flower asked in hushed tones, as she and Merry Morning sat on the rise above the village. In the beginning, Merry Morning had been rude to her, but over the years, they finally agreed to be friends.
The tribe had returned to the same campsite where they had been gathered when Little Flower first came to them. So much had happened since that day; it seemed like a lifetime ago. She had been with the tribe now, longer than she had been with her parents when Gray Wolf first found her. Now Little Flower could barely remember what her parents even looked like. Yet the sight of the village below brought back those memories of when she first laid eyes on it.
It was typical to move the village and not return to the same campsite for many years until Grandmother Earth had cleansed the ground and there was no risk of contamination and sickness caused from waist left by village use. It gave trees the time needed to offer more wood for future fires and woodland animals to return, which made hunting easier. Working hand and hand with Grandmother Earth was part of the Sioux culture in order to survive happily on the land.
Now, Rags sat wagging his tail beside Little Flower. He hadn’t changed much, Little Flower thought, except he had gotten older, just like her. She knew, though, he was nearing the end of his dog-years, and she wondered how she would get along without him, once he died.
At first, she had waited anxiously, wondering when her father would show up looking for her, but after several months, the Sioux tribe had moved to their winter camp, and it was then that Little Flower had to admit her parents probably would never find her. She would remain a member of the Sioux tribe that adopted her, and part of Gray Wolf’s family. Thinking of Gray Wolf caused a warm feeling to flow through her. Her stomach was invaded by butterflies with the very thought of Gray Wolf. Over the years, they had formed a close bond.
“Of course, I can keep a secret,” Merry Morning replied, bringing Little Flower back to the moment.
Daisy had quickly learned the Sioux language, and now she spoke Sioux more than her own language, even though she tried to help Chief Beaver with learni
ng more of her language when needed. She had also taught Gray wolf to speak her language. Often the two of them would revert to English when they didn’t want anyone to know what they were talking about. Many times the tribe used her to haggle with white people at different forts where they did their trading. It had been a long time since anyone had called her Daisy, though, and she even thought of herself as Little Flower now.
“Gray Wolf will soon do the Sun Dance,” Little Flower began.
“I know that. All young braves have to perform it to become a warrior and enter into manhood. It changes them from a boy to a man. It expresses their strength and fortitude.”
“I have always hated watching it,” Little Flower admitted. “It looks painful, and my people would call it barbaric.”
Flashes of the ritual dance shot through Little Flower’s mind. Many young braves with a sharp object pierced through their skin above one breast that was attached to a long piece of leather, leading to a center pole, all leaned out around the pole. Their skin stretched grotesquely as they pulled back from the pole. Whistles in the brave’s mouths made mournful sounds as they blew on them, all eyes focusing on the eagle feather at the top of the pole, pulling harder and harder, as they leaned outward, stretching the tether that held them. Then the ripping of the skin as the sharp object broke through, releasing them from the tether, turning them into a man and true future warrior. All true braves had a scar above one breast. Little Flower closed her eyes, wishing Gray Wolf did not have to go through the ritual. Only he seemed eager to do it.
“Our people are your people now,” Merry Morning reminded Little Flower.
Little Flower wondered if she still held out hope that her parents would actually find her. After so many years, she had to accept they probably gave up believing they would ever find her a long time ago. Maybe they hadn’t even bothered to look. That thought made her sad. Her mother had always been indifferent and a little distracted when it came to her five-year-old daughter. Maybe her mother never really wanted her in the first place, Little Flower thought with a touch of self-pity. All she ever talked about was the big house in San Francisco she would soon be moving into when they reached California.
“Yes,” Little Flower admitted. She realized that she didn’t want to leave her Sioux family after all these years, so why even think about her lost parents, she scoffed at herself.
“So what is the secret? It is not that Gray Wolf will be participating in the Sun Dance. Everyone knows that!”
“Once he becomes a man, he can choose a wife,” Little Flower informed her.
Merry Morning started to laugh. “You are so silly! I am the true Sioux. I know all these things you seem to want to remind me about. Of course, he will choose a wife, but maybe not right away. Some warriors wait until they have counted coup before they seek a wife.”
“He threw woman medicine at me,” Little Flower admitted in a low voice, giving Merry Morning a sideways glance to see how she would respond. Little Flower had put the treasured stone with bits of root glued to it in her pouch, which hung around her neck. Now she fingered the pouch, her heart swelling.
“Woman medicine,” Merry Morning almost shrieked!
“Yes, it means he wants me to be his woman!”
“I know what it means!” Merry Morning erupted. “It is just that he can’t ask you to be his woman! He is like your brother!”
“Only he is not my real brother. I am not even a Sioux!”
“That is another reason he cannot choose you! He is the son of a Chief. He should marry a true Sioux!”
“Only it is permitted to marry whites if they have been adopted into the tribe. Sioux sometime marry whites who are not a member of your tribe…even against their will when they capture them.”
“That is different. That is done to expand our people when many are killed in wars or to get revenge on enemy, mixing Sioux blood with those who would attack us. Then the wife would value her children more than her original people. It would break her alliance with them. Gray Wolf does not need to break your alliance with your people. He doesn’t need to expand our people by having children with you. It is not right that he marry you. His father promised my father when I was a child, that he would marry me when he became a man.”
“It is his choice, not yours or your father’s” Little Flower frowned. “Gray Wolf loves me, and I love him.”
“Ha! You just think you love him because you were raised together. Once he becomes a true brave, he will think better of choosing you. His father will disapprove. He can’t offer his own father horses for you, and he has to ask your father, which is his father, to give you to him,” Merry Morning began to laugh harder. “Besides, like I said, he is promised to me and his father cannot go back on his word!”
Little Flower felt her heart fall, sinking in the same way it did when she had to admit her parents were never coming for her. Her only happiness had been Gray Wolf who sheltered her and taught her the Indian way. There was no other young brave in the tribe that attracted her the way Gray Wolf did. He had thrown the woman medicine at her. He knew the customs of the tribe. He could marry her if he wished, she told herself, trying to bolster up her own self-confidence.
The look on Merry Morning’s face pained her, though. Merry Morning had not liked her from the beginning. However, Gray Wolf refused to talk to Merry Morning, when she treated Little Flower rude. So Merry Morning gave in and treated Little Flower kindly, so she could spend a lot more time with Gray Wolf, because he was usually with Little Flower, teaching her how to become Sioux. Therefore, Merry Morning also agreed to teach Little Flower what she needed to know about a woman’s position in the tribe and the two girls became better friends.
Merry Morning stabbed Little Flower with a glower and Little Flower could see the jealousy in Merry Morning’s eyes, sparking at her. “You cannot accept Gray Wolf’s affections!” she hissed at Little Flower. “It is not right, and I will not stand by and watch it!”
“You have no say in Gray Wolf’s life,” Little Flower muttered, trying to stand her ground.
“I am a Sioux! You are merely an adopted white person! You need to remember your place!”
“I thought once a person became adopted, the Sioux accepted them as one of them. They consider them a Sioux too!”
“You will never be a true Sioux, no matter how many times you are adopted into the tribe. You are just a silly white girl that managed to get lost when she was a child. You were stupid not to listen to your father and keep up with the wagons. Now we are stuck with you. I wish Gray Wolf never brought you here!” Merry Morning bellowed as she jumped to her feet. “Gray Wolf is supposed to become my husband, not yours! I will never let you have him!”
“You can’t stop me!” Little Flower yelled at Merry Morning’s back as she tromped away, and then started running down the rise to the village below.
Little Flower sat stunned, squinting her eyes, trying not to cry. She thought Merry Morning was her friend and would be happy at her news. A true Sioux did not cry, she kept telling herself, harshly, only like Merry Morning pointed out to her, she was not really a Sioux and the tears slipped from her lids against her will.
It had not been easy adjusting to the life of the Sioux when she first arrived. It was hard to understand what people said, and the children often made fun of her and called her Crazy Eyes. Talking Dog especially taunted her and teased her, pulling her braids. She tried to steer clear of him.
She missed her mother and father, even if her mother hadn’t paid a lot of attention to her the way she wished her mother would. Her father had always been attentive, when he had time, and would carry her on his shoulders or push her in the swing that he hung for her in the apple tree at the back of their house they lived in before they left for California.
Yes, she used to live in a big, beautiful house with many toys in her room to play with. Her mother had told her about the new house they would soon be moving into, but that was so long ago. Now, she didn’t even
have her own room. She had to live in the teepee with Gray Wolf’s family. However, it seemed to make the family closer since they shared space and time together, especially in the winter time.
She had finally become accustomed to the Sioux life. She felt a certain amount of freedom living with the Indians. She learned to ride a horse, and was given one, which she named Starfire. It was a lovely white horse and there were times when she felt that Starfire and Rags were her only true friends. She loved dashing beside Gray Wolf on his spotted horse as they raced through the meadows and across long stretches of grasslands, joking and laughing with each other as they rode.
Now she hugged Rags to her, as she wept into his ragged coat. He lovingly licked her face, trying to dry her tears. Even he would not be with her much longer, she feared. He had slowed down in his old age, and did not eat as much. Lately he was refusing to eat, and this worried Little Flower. The thought made her cry all the harder.
“There you are!” she heard a low voice call, and Little Flower lifted her head to see Gray Wolf coming up the hill towards her. “Merry Morning said you were up here, only she seemed angry when I asked her where you were.”
“You threw the woman medicine at me. Do you truly wish me to become your woman? Merry Morning said you couldn’t ask me. She said you were promised to her!”
“Oh! That is why she was angry. You told her about the woman medicine.”
Little Flower nodded, trying to dry her tears.
“Do not cry, Little Flower. It is you I love, not Merry Morning. The first moment I saw you in the flowers, I knew you were special. You will always be my special one. You have always belonged to me. I have something for you.”
Gray Wolf gave Little Flower a comforting smile, bringing his hands from behind his back. There, cupped in his large hands was a small fluffy puppy. “I know Rags is getting old. You will need a new dog when he goes to the Great Spirit,” Gray Wolf mumbled, as he knelt beside Little Flower and placed the puppy in her lap.
“It’s a baby Gray Wolf,” Little Flower breathed, rubbing her head against the puppy’s soft fur.
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