Lone Arrow's Pride

by Karen Kay

  “It will be my pleasure.”

  She placed her water-wrinkled hand in his own. And, seeing his questioning look, she said, “Remember, when I left here a few short weeks ago, I told you that I would wait for you to find me, just as I once had?”

  He nodded.

  “Well,” she said, “I think I am water soaked. I have been waiting for you in this tub for hours.”

  He chuckled, and lifting her out of the water, he took her into his arms. “Look at these little fingers,” he murmured, taking each one into his hands. “You are right. They are much too waterlogged, I fear. But do not fret, for I have many ways of making them, making you, feel better.”

  “Do you?”

  Bending his head toward her, coming ever closer and closer, he said, “I promise.”

  And in truth, it is said that Lone Arrow was a man who kept every one of his pledges.

  Epilogue

  Two men, one big and dark, the other small and scrawny, hurried away from the Bighorn Mountains. But it was not easy.

  Not only wind and weather, but time itself seemed to be against them.

  No sooner had Dixon fallen down into a large gopher hole, requiring rescue, than Jordan stepped the wrong way and had twisted his ankle.

  “Ah’m beginning to believe that Injun, Dixon,” said the smaller man.

  “Now that sounds jest like you. Ya don’t know what yer sayin’. Ain’t no such thing as curses.”

  Perhaps not, yet neither man could deny that a whirlwind chased them. In truth it never seemed to falter in its unfailing pursuit of them.

  But perhaps all these things were the price one pays for glory and riches.

  At least, in this one case, it would appear that it was so.

  Note to the Reader

  I thought it might be interesting to share with you some of the inspiration for this story, since it is considerable. What I am about to tell you, by the way, is a true tale, or perhaps we should call it a legend.

  In Arizona, there is a mountain range called the Superstitious Mountains, just outside of Phoenix. Some of you might be familiar with the legend of the Lost Dutchman’s gold mine. Some may not. Bear with me.

  There are many, many miners who go into the Superstitious Mountains today, hunting for the Lost Dutchman gold mine. Many years ago stones were found, upon which was written some hieroglyphics, thought to be part of a map. Many of these stones were discovered all over the Superstitious Mountains and all of them were thought to be part of a map that would lead others to the Lost Dutchman’s gold mine. Today, those stones are on display in a bank where all can see them and try to discern where the gold mine is.

  What is not generally known is that many hundreds of years previous, there were Jesuit priests in these mountains. They befriended the Indians and managed to get the Indians to bring them gold from these mountains, whereupon the Jesuit priests made artifacts out of the gold. Many, many artifacts.

  These priests were recalled to Spain. Most of them refused to go and so Spain sent an army into the Southwest to drive the priests home. The priests got word of the oncoming army and, deciding not to let the army get their gold, nor take the gold back to Spain where it would most likely be claimed by the king, they hid their treasure. It is the Jesuit priests who etched the map on the stones in hieroglyphics and left these stones in fairly inconspicuous places, thinking to come back and collect the gold at a later date.

  Recently miners have found, after using the stones on display, and digging about twenty-two feet deep in these mountains, two crosses with more hieroglyphics on them.

  To date, neither the Lost Dutchman’s mine, nor the stash of gold from the Jesuit priests has been found. Added to this is the fact that the Indians believed that the Thunder God lived in the Superstitious Mountains and in fact, up until the late nineteenth century, no one was able to go into the mountains and mine the gold without great risk to their lives. Any white person found in the mountains was at once killed.

  Another interesting fact is that earlier on, two brothers got word of the mines in those mountains and were mining one that they had found. They made two successful trips into the mountains and obtained a great deal of gold. On the third trip they were discovered by the Indians. And so the brothers loaded up all of their gold and put it into bags, which they tied onto their mules.

  Of course, these two brothers were found and killed by the Indians, but the mules were let go, still carrying the bags of gold. The last bag of gold to be found was in the 1920s or 30s (I forget which), and contained gold to the amount of approximately $12,000 at that time—today the find would have been close to half a million dollars.

  So the question is: Has anyone ever found the Lost Dutchman’s Mine? Not to my knowledge.

  Has anyone discovered the gold that was hidden by the Jesuit priests? Not that we know of. But I would have to ask you this question. If you were there and you found it, would you tell anyone?

  Glossary

  Some of the words and ideas in this book need further explanation. Hopefully this glossary will help to improve your understanding.

  Absarokee—this is the name by which the Crow call themselves. The name actually means “Children of the Long Beaked Bird.”

  Clan—a division of society that believes it is descended from a common ancestry. The word for clan in the Crow language means, literally, Driftwood Lodges. For the Crow, a child belongs to his mother’s clan. From his father’s clan comes the “joking” relative. By using jokes, this relative is supposed to make a person better by making him think.

  Dreams/visions—for the Crow Indians, this was the way in which one communicated with the One Above. It was also used by some to try to foresee the future.

  Helper—given in a vision, a helper was usually an animal, which would help and protect the person all through his life.

  Medicine Wheel—located high on a mountaintop in the Bighorn Mountains, about 10,000 feet above sea level, this is a wheel of stones. It is thousands of years old. The place where it is situated is a place of great beauty. But if you go there, be advised that there are high winds. While no one knows the origin of the wheel, there are many legends about it. Two of them, I told in my story. An interesting thing is that this summer, my husband and I visited the Medicine Wheel. And I must confess that it was a spiritual experience.

  River and Mountain Crow—these are two main divisions of the Crow tribe. An interesting point is that it was the River Crow who scouted for the U.S. Army with Custer. The Mountain Crow never did. They remained neutral.

  Societies—all Indian tribes that I have studied have societies. Some were secret. But all men in the tribe belonged to a society. Some of these societies were mystic. Each had their own special dances, as well as individual kinds of clothing, which were often worn for special occasions. Some societies were rivals, like the Lumpwoods and the Foxes in the Crow tribe.

  War Lodge—in the northwest war lodges were built much as I have described them in this story. War lodges operated as strategic outposts, allowing the war party to assemble in order to make food—like the women did in this story—to sleep, or to use the lodge as a place of defense if the need arose.

  About the Author

  Author of seventeen American Indian Historical Romances, Karen Kay aka Gen Bailey, has been praised by reviewers and fans alike for bringing the Wild West alive for her readers.

  Karen Kay, whose great-great grandmother was a Choctaw Indian, is honored to be able to write about something so dear to her heart, the American Indian culture.

  “With the power of romance, I hope to bring about an awareness of the American Indian’s concept of honor, and what it meant to live as free men and free women. There are some things that should never be forgotten.”

  Find Karen Kay online at www.novels-by-karenkay.com.

  Look for these titles by Karen Kay

  Now Available:

  Lakota Series

  Lakota Surrender

  Lakota Princes
s

  Proud Wolf’s Woman

  Blackfoot Warriors

  Gray Hawk’s Lady

  White Eagle’s Touch

  Night Thunder’s Bride

  Legendary Warriors

  War Cloud’s Passion

  Coming Soon:

  Legendary Warriors

  Soaring Eagle’s Embrace

  Written in the stars…

  Soaring Eagle’s Embrace

  © 2012 Karen Kay

  The Legendary Warriors, Book 4

  Kali Wallace has no room in her busy life for marriage. Instead, she is following her father into a photography career, striving to capture the beauty of the Wild West and its vanishing Indian cultures before they both disappear forever.

  Montana’s Blackfeet country is everything she could have dreamed—and more. At night a handsome man gently invades her sleep. Their nightly encounters become more and more real until one bright morning, she is startled to find everything has changed.

  Lawyer by profession, Blackfeet by blood, Clay Soaring Eagle is determined to do everything in his power—legally and spiritually—to save his people’s way of life. He trusts no one of the white race, and hopes that once Kali’s task is done, she will leave and take temptation with her.

  The spirits have their own plan. As their passion burns with a brightness that rivals the stars, Clay and Kali are aware that it can never last…unless they find a way to make their two worlds come together as one.

  Warning: Contains soul-stirring dreams, passionate unions, and a mountain-top quest that will leave you hungry to see these two lovers get their happily ever after.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Soaring Eagle’s Embrace:

  “I thought you wished to take pictures of my people.”

  “I do.”

  “And if you take these pictures, what will you do with them?”

  Kali felt herself relax. On this subject, she was on familiar ground. She said, “My father and I will make them into a book, which will be sold back East.”

  “Ah,” he said. “Then this is how you and your father make your living in the white man’s world?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then it is your wish to make money off us Indians.”

  Kali shrugged. “Yes,” she said. “In a way. But in a way, not.”

  “And how will we Indians profit by your pictures?”

  “By bringing more understanding of you and your people’s plight to the world. After all, if the native people of America were better understood, you would be able to enlist more aid to your cause.”

  He raised an eyebrow, his glance at her hard-hitting. “You are a wise woman,” he said, “yet I don’t think you are wise enough. You tell me that you wish to take our pictures, tell our stories, relate our adventures, yet you do not offer the Indian anything in compensation, though these adventures are rightfully ours.”

  “I hadn’t thought about it. It’s not something that has ever been brought up to us before.”

  “Always,” he said, “the white man has explanations.”

  Kali shook her head and pulled a face. “That’s too bad, really.”

  “Too bad?”

  “You are a very prejudiced man.”

  “I am a realistic man.”

  “All right, then. I suppose you are too realistic to take a dare, then, as well?”

  “A dare?”

  “Yes. I must admit that I have come into this project blind. I should have learned more about the situation and what was confronting the people I wished to contact—before I arrived. However, I didn’t. Be that as it may, I am prepared to parlay with you.”

  “Parlay? In what way?”

  “Tonight I was besieged with bigotry not only from you but from the agent’s wife, Mrs. Black. It leads me to believe that there is something going on here that needs investigation. Therefore, I am prepared to make a bargain with you.”

  “Humph.”

  “Here it is. I will acquaint you with what I do so that you can more fully understand why I am here. You, for your part, will show me what is going on between you and the ranchers who share this land with you. Then we will examine the facts and make our own judgments. If I am right, and my pictures do not do harm, you will do all you can to help introduce me to your chiefs and your people, perhaps talk them around to meeting me and letting me take their pictures. If, on the other hand, you convince me that I am hurting people by doing this, I will leave.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand.

  “You will, for your part, show me what is happening on your reservation. If you are right, and the white ranchers are trying to push you out, I will do all I can to help you fight this. If, however, you are wrong and the ranchers have just cause to do as they are, you will do all you can to convince your people to help them.”

  “I will never help the white ranchers. And I will not put myself into a position where I might ever have to do so. No, I don’t think I will bet with you.”

  “I see,” she said, biting down on her lip. “You’re afraid.”

  He frowned at her. “Only at the prospect of being hoodwinked by a small redheaded woman.” He softened the words with a grin. Then, after a moment, “Who would decide if the white ranchers have ‘just cause’?”

  “Why, both you and I, of course.”

  “And you will listen to me?”

  “I will listen to you.”

  “And if we don’t agree?”

  “We will examine only the facts and keep examining them until we do agree,” she said. “In truth, I would be willing to bet that you have simply misunderstood the actions of those who live around you. If it’s not a case of simple misunderstanding, then—”

  “And if I am right, if you discover that I speak the truth? What then?”

  “Then you would win the bet, I would help you and I would have to pay you whatever we decide are the stakes.”

  He leaned in toward her. “And what are the stakes?”

  “Well, for my part, if I win, I would like you to help me get as many pictures as I can. If you win, hadn’t we already decided that my father and I would leave?”

  He pursed his lips, nodding. “It sounds good, but I’m not sure I like it.”

  “What about it don’t you like?”

  “It is not personal enough.”

  “Personal?”

  “Aa. It is not a small thing that you ask of me if you should win the bet. I think you should wager with something you do not wish to part with.”

  “I am.” She crossed her arms. “If you win, I would have to leave.”

  “Yes, but is that enough? At least in comparison to what you ask of me.”

  “I see,” she said, then a little sarcastically, “I suppose you have something in mind?”

  He appeared to mull this over, although Kali was certain he had something firmly fixed in his thoughts. Several moments passed. At last, however, he spoke up, saying, “If you win, I will do as you say and try to persuade the others to agree to your photos and to understand the whites around us. But if I win…”

  Kali waited. “Yes?”

  “If I win, you will do as I say…even though the request might be a little intimate.”

  Kali’s stomach dropped; she raised her chin. “Exactly how intimate?”

  He grinned. “It is told by our elders that, in the past, young men were willing to use their wives as the stakes in a wager. The woman had no say in it, even if she loved her husband. She went to the winner willingly, and in marriage.”

  Kali stared at this man who stood before her so handsome and proud, who probably had half the female members of his village running after him. And he was asking her to…what? Aloud, she said, “Are you telling me that if you win you might ask me to marry you?”

  “Or something like that.”

  “How much like that?”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Perhaps the physical side of it.”

  Kali spun away from him, althoug
h it did her little good. She could feel the heat of his glance on her back. She said, “If you are asking what I think you are, it is immoral. And I’m certain that your society isn’t that much different than mine when it comes to such things.”

  He didn’t speak for some time, and he must have come up close to her, for when he next spoke, she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. He said, “Yet it is certainly a high enough stake. And you are an attractive woman.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are.”

  These were thrilling words, wonderful words, even if she didn’t believe them, and she clenched her fists to keep herself from reacting to him. She said, “I think you are being impertinent.”

  She could feel him shrug. “It would, at least, make the wager interesting.”

  She sniffed. “I’m not that desperate.”

  His face must have been close to her ear, for when he whispered, “Neither am I,” she heard him distinctly. Then he went on to say, “But then, a kiss is perhaps too much to ask of a white woman.”

  A kiss? She spun around so quickly, she wheeled off-balance. He caught her, his hands grabbing hold of her waist to steady her. “That’s all you’ve been speaking of? A kiss?”

  He gave her a devilish grin, his lips close to her own, before he said, “Maybe two, if you please.”

  She took a step backward, out of his arms, watching as his arms fell to his sides.

  “What kind of kiss?”

  Darn. There it was again, that dazzling smile. It made his face light up as though mood alone ruled his countenance. Worse, when she looked at him, her insides went all soft and warm, as though she were made of nothing but butter and rum. He said, “Should I show you the kind of kiss that I like?”

  “Sir!”

  He chuckled, closed one eyelid and winked at her. “It would be a simple kiss, two pairs of lips squeezed against each other.” He leaned down to her, but simply pressed his lips against one of his own fingers, which he then placed over her lips.