Naturally Bright Arrow knew his mother was the half-breed daughter of Chief Black Cloud and his white squaw Jenny who had been slain during a Bluecoat raid upon the Blackfoot village when his mother was two winters old. He also knew his mother had met and joined with his father nineteen winters ago. He knew of the potent love which they shared; he had witnessed the closeness between them. Yet, he did not know that his uncontrollable action had abruptly refreshed his parents’ painful memories. He did not know how deeply they feared to watch their past life relived by their son.
Shalee observed her son as he spoke of this girl called Rebecca, this girl who resembled her, this girl who sounded so much like her…
Shalee dreaded to think about this girl’s new existence, one which could eventually rival her own horrible past as a white captive to a formidable warrior who was the son of a chief! How could she bear to witness her past reborn in another’s present life? How could she prevent such a travesty without telling her son why? How could she encourage such a forbidden union which could only lead to anguish and heartache for both the girl and her son? Yet, how could she wisely counsel him without betraying her own deadly secrets? The truth had to remain hidden for all time in order to protect the lives of those she loved.
Shalee shuddered to speculate upon the circumstances which would surround the naked truth about her: her husband’s deception in presenting her as Princess Shalee, her own eager and willing acceptance of the Oglala’s love and trust and that of the Blackfoot’s, and her son’s half-breed lineage. Even after living with the Indians for these years, their resentment would be limitless if they somehow learned of these numerous deceptions…Her beloved son, how could she possibly condemn him to the lowly rank of half-breed: a position lower than the white man or the Indian held in either’s eyes?
Who was this girl who had been cruelly thrust into their peaceful lives? How would Rebecca change their tranquil existence and Bright Arrow? Yet, how could Shalee meekly stand aside and watch Bright Arrow treat this innocent, defenseless girl in the same unyielding manner in which Gray Eagle had originally done to her? How could Shalee forestall these warnings of portentous doom which savagely rent at her heart and mind?
Shalee’s mind was plagued by too many echoes of her own yesterdays. Her own mental cries and pleas for mercy, acceptance, and love of long ago reverberated over and over within her distressed mind. All of her yesterdays were in the past; why couldn’t they remain concealed there? Yet, she somehow knew they would not. The dangerous echoes would continue to come closer and to grow louder until…until what? She apprehensively fretted.
“Mother? What troubles you so?” Bright Arrow inquired, love and worry in his tone and curious gaze.
“Rebecca, Bright Arrow. I am a woman; I know the feelings within her. I feel great sorrow in knowing what she might endure. It will be hard for her, my son. She has already lost and suffered so much. Yet, there is more anguish to come for her. I, too, cannot bear the idea of you sending her to another brave who might use her badly. If she is as you say, her pain and fear are great. You not only control her life, but also her heart. How I wish there was no war between us.”
Shalee looked deeply into his eyes as she said, “Remember these things, my son: she cannot be blamed for her white skin; she cannot be blamed for being a woman, one who has fallen prey to the strength and control of a strong man. She does not have the power to fight you or her destiny. Do not punish her for what she cannot change or control. If you wish it so, I will try to teach her respect and obedience. I would not want my son to be forced to brutally punish or to slay an innocent girl because of her natural defiance. There is much she must learn and accept. If you keep her, I will do this for both of you.”
Bright Arrow could hardly trust his ears. “You would help me train this white girl?” he asked incredulously, oblivious to her real motives.
“If you must keep her, my son, then let our tepee be a happy one. This girl could change many things there if we refuse to teach her what she must know and do. Does she not deserve our help and kindness? Reckless defiance could cost her life and the peace within our home.”
“I do not understand, Mother. Rebecca is white! She is my slave and must obey me! She is our enemy!” he irrationally debated her confusing words. Their laws were clear: captives obeyed the commands of their masters or they were punished; that had always been the way of his kind. Was his own mother actually suggesting leniency and friendship? “Rebecca will not defy me; she is afraid, but she is smart!”
“You are far wiser and braver than you claim she is, my son. But would you silently and meekly accept captivity by your white enemy? Rebellion against enslavement and hatred is a natural thing, Bright Arrow. Yes, she might be smart and frightened. But how long can she timidly accept a life of coldness, cruelty, and loneliness? Her ravaged heart will soon cry out for freedom, honor, and happiness. She must find them within your life-circle or she will helplessly seek them in another place. Kindness will gain you far more from her than mighty power ever can. I cannot permit the war between our peoples to steal into my own tepee,” she softly informed him.
“But the others will call me coward and betrayer!” he protested her assertions.
“Not if you only behave this way in our tepee. Be the Indian and warrior in the village, but only a man in our tepee. This small amount of truce will be enough for her. You will see,” she promised confidently, recalling how it had once been between the English girl Alisha Williams and the formidable Sioux warrior Gray Eagle.
“What if Rebecca will not allow this trick? What will my father say when he learns of it?” he speculated as irrepressible excitement sang within his veins. Was such a ruse possible? The temptation was great.
“As for your father, I do not know. I can only hope he will permit our kindness to her. It is you, not Rebecca, who shouts of this hostility between you two. It is also my beloved son the Sioux Warrior, not his white captive, who is unwilling to deny or to prevent this emotional warfare. From all you say, you are but a man to her. But to you, she is only a white captive. You already possess her life and purity. Wherein does the justice lie for her continued punishment and rejection? She belongs to you. She desires you and accepts you as a man. Do you wish to drive these special feelings from her heart and body with coldness and torment? If she withdraws her love from you, is that not the same as losing her? What do you truly want from her?” she challenged.
When he failed to answer her question, she continued, “Have you forgotten that you own mother carries the blood of a white squaw? Does that fact make me a despised enemy? If not for Wi, my skin would be as white as snow. My grass eyes declare my wasichu blood. Does this not tell you that all whites are not evil? Because of the love and desire my father felt for a white squaw, I was born. Am I any less than I am because of their forbidden love and union, for the wasichu blood which flows within me? When your lance brings forth the blood of a white, is it not the same color as an Indian’s? The real difference between the white-eyes and the Indians is in spirit. The colors of our skins are only an excuse to reveal this difference.”
Bright Arrow reasoned upon her words. He decided, “You are indeed wise and gentle, Mother. But my father and the others do not feel and think this way,” he apprehensively reminded her. Once again that strange and haunting look came into her emerald eyes.
“Your father is a warrior and a chief, Bright Arrow. As leader of our tribe, he must view things differently. I cannot speak of the secret matters which are in his heart and mind, for only he sees and understands them. I have loved him since the first moment our eyes met. I must obey his wishes. Yet, sometimes the good of our people must shine brighter than his love for me. This has been hard to accept and to understand, but it must be so. I would not wish to cause him pain or dishonor. Yet, sometimes we do such things because we cannot help ourselves. Too, there are times when the Great Spirit has plans for us which we do not comprehend and often resist.”
“H
ow so, Mother?” he curiously inquired, his brow lifting inquisitively.
She silently reasoned for a time, trying to find some way to make her points without revealing too much. She smiled sadly and whispered softly, “Speak of this to no one, not even your father. It would bring back much pain in both our hearts, but there are matters which might help’ you understand things more clearly. He would not wish me to tell you of our past days, but there is one thing you must hear. Then you will comprehend his decision and our sadness. When your father and I first met, we were both promised to others. But our love could not be halted. It quickly grew until it was an overpowering force which we could not resist. When Gray Eagle first saw me, it was much like your meeting with Rebecca. He desired me greatly, but he saw my green eyes and believed me a white captive. For this, he fiercely resisted the bond of love which stretched between us. Even when he learned I was the daughter of Chief Mahpiya Sapa, he still struggled against my white blood. Knowing your father’s feelings about the whites and their evil, you can comprehend the terrible battle which raged within him. Even so, he could not forget me. His hunger for me became so great that he challenged my promised mate to win me. After we were joined, he came to love me even more. For all these years, he chose to deny my white blood. But today, you have reminded him of this truth which he had buried within his heart. Your challenge of an Indian brother for a white woman’s possession reminded him of his past challenge for the half-breed daughter of Black Cloud. Yet, he spared the life of his rival; you could not. Your words reminded him of the same turmoil which he had endured. Others also thought me white; they mocked and taunted him for his weakness and dishonor.
“Do you not see, my son? You have innocently reminded him that he also loves a girl with wasichu blood. You now show him what would have passed between us had I not been proven Si-ha Sapa. As with you and Rebecca, he feared losing me; he feared taking me. As you said, fear is not good in a warrior. For a time we tasted the pain and hopelessness of forbidden love and powerful desire; he wishes to spare you from that same anguish and humiliation, for you and Rebecca cannot find the happy solution we now enjoy. It took great love and courage for him to accept a half-breed girl. It was also difficult for the Oglalas to learn to accept a half-breed girl in the sacred life circle of their beloved Gray Eagle. Now, Gray Eagle’s son also chooses a white girl over one of his own kind. Such an action might cast dark shadows over both of you; it might remind the Oglalas that I am also half white.”
“But how could my father challenge for you when both of you were promised to others?” he seized upon a conflicting point which she had overlooked, forcing her to divulge more facts.
“As with Rebecca, he took me thinking I was a white girl. My love for him was so great that I openly declared my choice of him. But the laws of our peoples had to be obeyed. He was forced to win me by the right of ki-ci-e-conape, for he had possessed me first. But the outcome was unlike your fight with the Cheyenne warrior; your father spared the life of Brave Bear and gave him the hand of his chosen one in joining. There is truce between us.”
“Brave Bear and Chela were your chosen mates!” he exclaimed.
“It was so, but our love could not be denied. It was the will of the Great Spirit. Since that day, there has been truce and happiness for all. We have been at peace with the Si-ha Sapa. Will our Cheyenne brothers feel the same good spirit at the news of your deadly challenge with Standing Bear? Your father is very proud and stubborn, my son. Even now, it is hard for him to remember my white blood. Your magic is much like his; Rebecca cannot resist it, as I could not resist his. You say she is much like me, and he fears you will come to love and desire her as he did me. Love me or hurt me, he will reject this girl’s place within your life.”
“I will speak to him of these things! He must know of my feelings. I will tell him…”
She hastily interrupted him, “No, Bright Arrow! You must never speak of the past to him. It would only re-open many old wounds which are not completely healed; it might cause new ones which will hurt us all deeply. I beg you; do not speak of this to him. I only told you these things to help you understand what must be. He knows of your feelings, but he also knows of the price it will take for you to keep Rebecca.”
“But things are good between you,” he argued.
“Only because he has been able to conceal my wasichu blood from everyone, including himself. Many things were said and done between us while we resisted our love, things which even now I cannot bear to recall or to speak of to even you. Do not call our past back to life; it would be tormenting and costly for us,” she entreated him. “Every day more whites come to our lands to forcefully steal them. Deeper hostility breeds with each new moon.”
“What did my father do to you, Mother?” he asked, sensing some terrible agony within that haunted expression.
“Call to mind how you viewed and treated Rebecca. You did so because she is white and your captive. When I first met Gray Eagle, he thought I was white and he tried to capture me. Put the two times together and compare them. Therein lies the answer you seek, Bright Arrow…”
His eyes grew wide with disbelief and alarm. “But why did he not listen to your words and pleas? He took you as I took her!” he remarked in alarming distress.
She smiled through dewy eyes. “Just as you took her. With magic, gentleness, desire, and confusion. Did you heed Rebecca’s words and signs? No. Does she not look more Indian than I do, than I did? Could she speak while your mouth was upon hers? Perhaps her fear, confusion, and suffering stole her speech. Did she not fall prey to your great prowess and magic: things you share with your father?”
He grinned mischievously. “Afterwards you did not hate him? You joined to him?” he teased her.
She laughed merrily, a light blush covering her face. “I fear his magic was too powerful to refuse. I loved him even at that first moment. For a time, there was rebellion and resentment within my mind. But his touch and love dispelled them. I would not want such bitter memories to return and to cast a dark shadow upon our love. You told him of your night with Rebecca, a night which compared to one with me long ago.”
“Still, it is different between me and Rebecca.”
“Perhaps for now, but who can tell what the new moon holds for any of us? You are the son of the Oglala chief. As with us, you will also face decisions and sacrifices which other warriors will not. Your people will come before your needs and wishes many times. Often this will be painful, haunting, and difficult for you. But as with your father and others chiefs, you will do what you must. You will bend and yield to your destiny and the will of your people, for this is deeply ingrained within your heart and mind. Rebecca will innocently suffer for what she is and for who you are; this cannot be avoided or changed. Accept it now, my son, or both of you could know great anguish. I wish I could tell you to give her up this moment, but I cannot. I know what it is like to desire someone beyond will or reason. What do laws and skin colors matter when your spirit cries out for hers? There are two things you must promise me: first, do not punish her for her tragic destiny, for she has no choice but to obey it. Second, you must keep all these words between us secret.”
“I must think much upon them, but I will conceal them from everyone. You are wise and brave, my beautiful mother. Now, I can understand my father’s coming decision. When he speaks it, I will abide by it,” he wretchedly agreed, fearing the worst.
She hugged him tightly. “I am very proud of you, Bright Arrow. I could ask for no better son. You are indeed like your father, a man who stands far above others. We will speak again after I have met your Rebecca.”
For a time they spoke of other things as they nervously awaited Gray Eagle’s return. As time crept along, both Shalee and Bright Arrow became concerned. Bright Arrow was the first to give voice to their rising panic. “Why does he take so long, Mother? Would he send her away before telling me his decision?”
“I honestly do not know. He will do what he thinks is bes
t for all concerned.” A look of alarm suddenly crossed her features. What if the girl was so terrified of him that she rebelled against him and her captivity? Her own scars upon her back from a past lashing for defiance tingled a warning within her. “Perhaps we should return to our tepee. Something might be wrong. Surely he has finished his inspection of her by now. She does not know our ways; she might make a terrible mistake and defy him…”
Bright Arrow was instantly upon his feet. He helped his mother up and took her small hand within his larger one. They quickly walked back to camp. Shalee entered their tepee first. The white girl was in tears; she was shaking violently. Gray Eagle was towering over her like some giant bird of prey about to attack her and tear her to pieces. At Shalee’s voice from the entry, he whirled to face her and her seeming intrusion, eyes glacial and angry. His lofty, muscular frame was taut and intimidating.
Her curious eyes went from her husband to the weeping girl, then back to him again. “Wamndi Hota?” she asked.
When he spoke to her in his tongue, his voice was harsh and strained. “I said to wait by the stream for my return. I have not decided her fate. Go! Leave this matter to me,” he sternly commanded in a tone which she had not heard in many, many years from the man she loved. The look which filled his jet eyes caused fingers of dread to seize her tender heart. She was stunned into silence. She had witnessed many confrontations with white foes, but none as tempestuous as this one appeared.
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