Lakota Princess

by Karen Kay

  “He is?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” The Duchess looked as though the simple question might cause her to faint although luckily, she was seated and no such occurrence took place. “Ah, such a pretty thing you are, my dear,” she said, recovering at once, “but such incomprehension of…why, bless me but there I go again, you poor, dear girl. I forget that you have not been with us long. Pray, forgive my ill manners. I do so pity your background, to know that somewhere you have a noble family, and yet to have been raised in the wilderness away from all this…this civilization. Well, it is no wonder that you don’t see it. Why, my dear, your Indian is the most popular man in all of England after he made such a daring rescue of you last week on the mall and then in Hyde Park only a few days ago. Why, all of London is talking, you know. And oh, my, bless me, but it is my good fortune to have him living here in my home, under the protection and guardianship of my husband. Ah, what a handsome fellow he is—and so noble. How can you doubt that he is so popular?”

  “I—”

  “Here he is now. Come, dear,” she said to Estrela, as the Duchess rose to step around the table and greet Black Bear, “won’t you please help me?”

  “Black Bear, please sit with me.”

  “No, I want him to sit next to me,” one of the other women whined.

  “You had him at dinner last night. I get him this morning.”

  “He’s mine at the table, didn’t I say so before we came down to breakfast?”

  “No. I’d like him to sit with me.”

  Estrela thought her head might likely burst from the incomprehension of it all. Never had she seen anything like this. Never would she have expected such a thing. And as Black Bear stepped into the room, the clatter for his attention rose to such a crescendo, Estrela thought she might likely cover her ears. Courtesy, however, forbade her this small pleasure.

  What was happening here?

  How could Black Bear have made such a favorable impression on so many people and in such a short time?

  She recalled again the journey to Shelburne Hall. It had taken them two days traveling time to reach the estate, and on the first evening that they had spent at an Inn, Estrela had shared a room with the women, Black Bear with the men.

  But Estrela hadn’t slept much that night, had lain in her bed with her eyes open, pondering her predicament. Perhaps the reason for such unrest lay in the fact that she had spent a good part of the day traveling in the coach, being held in Black Bear’s arms and sleeping, his arms around her, his presence a soothing balm.

  But that night, alone, she had run over and over in her mind what was happening with her, with him, seeking possible solutions to their problems; for it was obvious that what she was doing was not solving her dilemma, not at all.

  And so she hadn’t slept.

  But that next day had found Black Bear mounted upon his gelding, his ride in the carriage at an end, and Estrela had been unable to tell him what she had decided: that whatever was between them, whatever the attraction, must end.

  No. Instead she had moodily watched him from her seat within the carriage, watched him ride up ahead, laugh with the men and the servants, and boast of his skill by sending arrows into the sky, as many as twenty at a time.

  And Estrela had realized, quite unhappily at that moment, that there was no escaping him, no sending him away, no running away.

  Even if she never saw him again the rest of her life, it wouldn’t matter.

  She loved him. She would always love him.

  No matter where he was, no matter where she was, he would be with her. If not in physical presence, then within her heart.

  Forever.

  It had been a daunting, sobering admission.

  And though the rest of the journey had been made in relative peace, within Estrela burned a fire, one that she intended to ignore, to bank for as long as she possibly could.

  Truly, she had no other choice.

  And so it was with great mixed emotions that Estrela greeted Black Bear now.

  She gazed at him, and her stomach plunged at the sight of him, her senses spinning. Rising tall and dark among the splendor of the English wealth, he presented an enticing picture of perfect staid, English dress with a complement of long hair, feathers, and beads. It was an enticing combination of continental elegance and backwoods, American charm. His chin bore absolutely no trace of whiskers and his black eyes, as he entered the room, looked everywhere, gazed at everything, the man memorizing his environment at a glance.

  He appeared foreign, wild, and utterly male; the unrestrained quality of him barely tamed and Estrela recognized, for the first time, just what it was about him that was creating such a stir.

  And she sighed; she, too, was a victim of his magnetism.

  “Ah, Black Bear.” It was the Duchess who spoke, interrupting Estrela’s thoughts. “My dear boy, come and sit by me, won’t you? I do so need to talk with you.”

  Black Bear acknowledged the Duchess with a quick glance and a nod, but Estrela saw that his attention caught and held onto her. Black Bear did not even glance at the rest of the occupants of the room. And Estrela, shifting uncomfortably, wondered at his continued observation. She looked away.

  But it was impossible to ignore the man, the clamor for his attention alone bringing continued awareness of him.

  “No, come and sit with me,” she heard a high-pitched voice demand.

  “Me first.”

  “I saw him before you did. Here, with me, Black Bear.”

  “What do you know? He’s mine today. I claimed I would have him only this morning.”

  But Estrela saw that Black Bear ignored them all, saw that he watched her, observed his roguish grin at her, causing her to wonder what he was about when he all at once said, “I believe I will sit here,” choosing a chair to Estrela’s left. “And,” he said into a silent room where each one present seemed to hang onto his every word. “I hope you are all well-settled.”

  “Oh, yes, quite.”

  “Yes, but I—”

  “We are.”

  “Good, then,” Black Bear said, and then after a moment, ensuring he had everyone’s attention, he began, “I was wondering if you all might enjoy an old Indian story as we sit here in each other’s company with this feast of meat and eggs.”

  Estrela shook her head slowly, glancing up toward the, ceiling.

  “Oh, how exciting!”

  “Yes, please, pray tell!”

  “Here, sit next to me and tell it.”

  “No, I—”

  “Please.” Black Bear held up a hand. “It is the custom in my village that when a person talks, others listen.” And to the “ohs” that filtered around the table, Black Bear continued, “I have already been at the hunt this morning. I caught much game and I have found your land to provide much meat. But,” he lowered his voice as he said, “this morning I found a beautiful goose—”

  “Black Bear!”

  “Oh, how lovely.”

  “Tell us more.”

  “Did you sacrifice it?”

  He grinned. “And do you know,” he continued, ignoring all the comments, “I found the goose to be without a single gander to protect her. And after she’d had so many. Do you suppose she did not learn from her mistake? A most unwise goose. For had I desired her meat, I could have made a feast of goose flesh for our supper tonight.”

  He turned his head then and stared directly at Estrela.

  “Ah, Black Bear, please tell the whole story.”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Well, I’d like to know if you have ever scalped an enemy.”

  “Oh, you silly, no. Please, tell us the story.”

  He smiled and gazing about the table he said, “I entertained you last night with my stories. I believe it is time for Waste Ho to speak to you now about this particular tale. I think she could tell it better than I could since she has so much experience with it. Perhaps she can tell you
why the goose is so silly that she cannot pick a mate and stay with him.”

  “Who’s Waste Ho?”

  “Oh, an Indian name, may I have one, please?”

  “Is that Lady Estrela? Would you know any stories, Lady Estrela?”

  “What does it mean, Waste Ho?”

  “Did you ever torture an enemy? I’d like to hear about that.”

  Estrela shut her eyes, then opening them, she looked about the breakfast table, seeing everyone there except, of course, the person sitting directly on her left, to whom she was expending so much energy ignoring.

  “Oh, I daresay, Lady Estrela, tell us a story.”

  “Yes, please.”

  Estrela cleared her throat and sweeping her gaze once more around the table, said at last, “I will tell a story, if you all would like it.”

  “Oh, yes, please.”

  “Pray, believe me, we do.”

  “Yes, well,” she said, “have you heard the story about the silly goose who couldn’t decide on her mate?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, a truly great story it is, too.”

  “Is this a story about her?”

  “Well,” Estrela said, “it’s a bit about her, but it’s more about the pompous, arrogant, self-satisfied gander who didn’t have the intelligence to listen to the goose.”

  “Oh, how wonderful!”

  “Do tell us.”

  “It sounds a marvelous story. Do tell it.”

  “Is it an Indian story?”

  “Well, it is a bit like an Indian story,” she said, ignoring Black Bear’s glower at her. “It goes like this. Once there was a gander…”

  “Why should he listen to her?” It was Black Bear who spoke.

  “Because,” Estrela said, “she might have something to say to him, that if he would only listen, might make a difference to him.”

  “Would it explain,” Black Bear asked, drawing everyone’s attention to him where he sat next to her, “why she desires more than one mate?”

  And though others at the table gasped, Estrela sat her ground. “Perhaps,” she said, her chin thrust forward. “Perhaps she doesn’t desire more than one mate, perhaps she only—”

  “Then why does she flirt when she is already taken?”

  “Taken?” It was the Duchess of Colchester who spoke. “I thought she couldn’t make up her mind.”

  “Do you want to hear this story or should I tell one about the Trickster?” She glared at the Duchess of Colchester, who sputtered and Estrela was at once contrite. “So sorry,” she said. “I forgot that ’tis only a mere story.”

  “What is this about Trickster?”

  “Who is Trickster?”

  “Oh, how lovely. Please tell us that story.”

  “Yes, it sounds fascinating.”

  “I’d like to hear about scalping and about…”

  “Oh, do be quiet.” It was one of the other ladies who spoke.

  Estrela sighed. “Do you know who the Trickster is?”

  “No.”

  “Please tell us.”

  “Well,” Estrela said, “Trickster is a legend in Indian culture. He is part hero, part god, is human and animal at the same time. He can take any form and one has to be careful when dealing with him, because one never knows what he will do.”

  “Oh, how endearing.”

  “Yes, pray continue.”

  “Well, this story is about Trickster in the form of a coyote. Now, Trickster loved to play tricks on unwitting people and animals and so many a story has been told about him.” She glanced at Black Bear, but noticing he said nothing for the moment, she continued. “This story begins with the day Trickster took a walk along the Big Muddy.”

  “The Big Muddy?”

  “The Missouri River, a wide, muddy river on the American frontier.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yes,” Estrela said. “Now as he walked along, Trickster came upon an eagle with a broken wing.”

  “An eagle?” It was Black Bear who spoke, Black Bear who uncrossed his arms and sat forward. He frowned.

  “Yes, an eagle,” she said, sending Black Bear an inquisitive glance. But when he said nothing, merely gazed back at her, she continued her story. “Now Trickster was interested because Eagle just sat there. So Trickster said, ‘Fly.’ ‘I cannot,’ said Eagle, because Eagle’s wing had been hit with an arrow. ‘Then,’ said Trickster, ‘you will surely die, for I will eat you all up.’”

  Someone at the table gasped, and Estrela stopped, looking up.

  “Pray, continue.”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Very well,” Estrela said. “Trickster did not realize how smart Eagle was. Trickster had played so many tricks and had fooled so many animals that Trickster grew complacent and so when Eagle said, ‘I am but one bird. I have little meat. But wait. I have many plump children. If you will only help me to that rock over your head and mend my wing, I will let you eat all my children.’”

  Here Estrela left off to glance once more about the table. But her audience sat enraptured, and Black Bear remained quiet and so she continued, saying, “Now Trickster thought about all Eagle said. And Trickster was hungry, his hunger making him think unwisely. So he said, ‘I will help you, but you must show me where your children are.’”

  “Oh, do go on.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well,” she said, “Eagle was quite a smart character and so he said to Trickster, ‘They are in my nest, way up high, a place you cannot go, but if you will only help me, I will fly to my children and tell them to come down to you.’ And when Trickster said, ‘Fine,’ he forgot to look deeply into Eagle’s eyes. And so he said, ‘But you must give me your word that you will send your children to me.’ And wise, old Eagle agreed.”

  She darted a glance to her left and saw that Black Bear had sat back, was watching her with a smug grin on his face, and looked as though he weren’t at this moment teasing her. But Estrela knew him, knew that he scoffed at her silently, and had she not had a point to make, she might have left off right there. But she had more to say and so she continued, “It was then that Trickster helped Eagle to the rock, mended his wing and Eagle flew away to his children. But once Eagle alighted onto his nest, he took his children and, laughing down at Trickster, he flew away, his children and himself safe. But before he flew away, Eagle looked down and said to Trickster, ‘Oh, foolish one. You have tricked many. You have killed many. But you cannot trick me. Don’t you know to never trust an enemy?’” She paused and looked carefully at Black Bear. “And so it was that Trickster, himself,” she finished, “was finally tricked.”

  Silence spread about the table at first.

  Then, “Oh, that was lovely.”

  “And so Indian.”

  “My, what entertainment.”

  “Do you know more?”

  “I’d like to hear about scalping and looting and torture and—”

  “Eagle was wise,” Black Bear spoke up from beside her, “to protect what was his in the only way that he could. Do you mean to tell me that Eagle should steal away with all that is his?”

  “I—”

  “Are you suggesting,” Black Bear asked, “that one should not honor one’s word when the price is too high?”

  That had Estrela gasping at him. “No,” she said. “I—”

  “Perhaps then,” interrupted Black Bear, “you should know the moral of the story before you tell it.”

  “But I thought the story was simply about outsmarting the Trickster.” It was the Duchess of Colchester who spoke.

  “Yes,” said another.

  “I thought so, too. Why, bless me, but I thought it was about ensuring the safety of your children.”

  Estrela set her lips together and, ignoring the others, glared at Black Bear. “The moral of the story,” she said, “is quite plain to those who have more intelligence than that of a stupid gander. Oh, so sorry, I didn’t mean you,” she said to the others, then stared back at Black Bear. “Eagle is
supposed to fly away. Don’t you see? Any animal, when faced with the same situation, would fly away. Once Eagle had mended himself, he had no reason to stay. He should fly away”—she emphasized the words—“while the chance is still upon him. And…” she sprung to her feet, “…the sooner, the better.”

  Black Bear laughed, a good, hearty laugh that set Estrela’s temper to boiling all the more.

  “But Eagle…me,” he said, himself standing, grinning, “is wise only when he protects those he has vowed to defend first. And then”—his smile turned to a leer—“never mistake him. He will fly, but not before he teaches Trickster a lesson. Did Trickster also have the morals of a sparrow? Or was he more like the goose who would give her favors to anyone who would ask?”

  “Oh!”

  Black Bear smirked, but Estrela, twisting away from the table, didn’t see. She fled from the room as quickly as possible, with only an occasional “oh” echoing down the long, long corridor to prove that she had once sat at the breakfast table.

  Black Bear stood and uttered a formal, “Ladies.”

  So involved was he in his own thoughts he didn’t hear the Duchess exclaim as he left, “They seem to get so much more out of these stories than we do. Have you noticed this?”

  And to the resounding agreement that flowed all about the room, Black Bear took his leave.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Shelburne Hall’s ballroom could have rivaled one of Almack’s Assembly Rooms—its splendor was so great. Although unlike Almack’s, the Duchess of Colchester imposed little or no rules of behavior upon her guests, which caused the party-goers to sense a certain feeling of freedom.

  Laughter and music filled the hall, no one noticing that the polished, hardwood floors gleamed with a deep luster under several coats of beeswax, shining as though cast under a spell from the light overhead where hung at least a dozen crystal and gold-trimmed chandeliers. Likewise no one seemed to note the Grecian statues that stood beside each entrance, nor the elaborately framed eight-foot paintings that guarded each wall. In the paintings, had one observed them, were various pictures of balls, of people dancing, of men and women in each others’ arms. But no one seemed to take much notice of this at all. Attention was focused men upon the women, women upon the men and all, of course, upon the wine.