“What has happened here, Father?” Bright Arrow asked, confounded by his father’s unleashed temper and tense body.
At the sound of Bright Arrow’s voice, Rebecca looked up. She cried out in relief and rushed toward him. Her arms encircled his waist and she buried her tear-streaked face against his bare chest. She sobbed uncontrollably, clinging tightly to him.
Both Shalee and Bright Arrow stared at Gray Eagle in confusion. Gray Eagle’s eyes narrowed, hardened, and chilled as he observed the tender way his son’s arms instinctively embraced the white girl and held her possessively and comfortingly.
“Release her, Bright Arrow! It is wrong to show her such warmth and leniency. Such friendly actions breed defiance and arrogance within white slaves. She is but a white captive; treat her as such.” To see this particular girl snuggled against his only son’s body and drawing solace from him was too much to bear!
“But she is so young and frightened, Father,” he rashly argued, unaware of the vicious war raging within his father.
“It is only natural to fear your enemy! To show kindness and to offer comfort would be an open show of acceptance and friendship to her. I cannot permit it. She has cunningly captured your eyes and your loins; I will not allow her to add your heart and your honor to her wicked collection. She is evil. She is weak and crafty. She seeks to win your heart with her false tears and pretense of desire. No white woman could truly love her Indian captor! The only magic she possesses is her cunning mind; no doubt she laughs at your weakness for her,” he snarled.
In the heat of his vengeful anger, Gray Eagle’s concentration was upon Bright Arrow and the despicable white girl. He failed to note the shocking impact of his cutting words and actions upon his wife, who was also white and had once stood where this terrified and helpless girl was standing now. Shalee watched this tragic scene in utter disbelief. After all these years, was his past resentment surfacing and venting?
The secrets which Gray Eagle had just uncovered about this white girl raged viciously and bitterly within him like a violent storm mercilessly attacking everything in its path. He could not believe the Great Spirit would punish and torture him in this cruel and inexplicable manner. In Gray Eagle’s attempts to extract information about her, Rebecca had innocently given away several clues to her identity. In her desperation to convince Gray Eagle that she and her father had been friendly to the Indians, she had spoken Joe Kenny’s name: a name which he had instantly recognized, a name which had told him her true identity, a perilous fact which even she did not know!
Gray Eagle could barely contain the resentment and enmity which flamed like destructive wildfire throughout his virile body. Of all white females alive, he could never permit this particular girl to have his only son! He had not permitted her real father to steal his wife, and he would never allow his lowly daughter to entrap his only son. He bitterly recalled that day years ago when not Joe Kenny, but her real father, a treacherous half-breed, had shot him and had left him for dead. He remembered how her father had tragically interfered in their lives many times in the distant past. He would never forget or forgive her father for kidnapping Shalee the day after their joining, for using his own past treatment of Shalee to convince her that her new husband had left her to die in the desert while all along he lay bleeding to death from that treacherous scout’s wound! If that wasn’t enough evil, her father had taken his beloved wife into great peril, danger which claimed the life of his unborn child, danger which placed her under the wicked control of a yellow-haired Bluecoat from the fort which he had bravely destroyed, danger which had caused him to think his guiltless wife had betrayed him, danger which had blindly compelled him to seek her life in brutal revenge for traitorous crimes which she had not committed!
He could never forget or forgive the pain and troubles which Rebecca’s father had caused. It did not matter that Rebecca had been raised as the child of his old friend Joe Kenny. It did not matter that Joe had been the man to help his wife, to later come here to explain the scout’s treachery and her innocence, to be the one who brought about their present happiness and acceptance. The blood of her real father ran within her body: the blood of Powchutu, the half-breed scout from Fort Pierre…
Never imagining that their paths would ever cross again, Joe had carelessly confessed the truth about his wife Mary, about how she had loved Powchutu, about how she had become pregnant with his child, about how he had been murdered before they could marry, about how Shalee must never know the truth about the man who had more than once saved her life at the risk of his own and a man who had once been like a brother to her, about the man whom Shalee would have married if things had worked out differently at the fort: something Powchutu had been unable and unwilling to accept. Powchutu had craved Shalee for his own wife; he had done all within his power and skill to win her love. Now, Powchutu’s daughter was standing here in his tepee, threatening to destroy them all!
The emotional battle raged on and on within Gray Eagle, creating a mixture of volatile expressions upon his normally impassive face. The floodgates upon the dam of his memory had been shattered; waves and waves of tormenting thoughts returned from the past to storm against his taut body and to carry it along in its violent surges. He struggled to escape this swirling tide, as past events reached out to engulf him. He could not fathom a guess as to Shalee’s reaction to Rebecca’s identity. He could not risk telling her the truth. Rebecca must leave before many secrets were revealed. Never would his only son be ensnared by the daughter of his worst enemy!
Shalee could not believe the fierce hostility and contempt which she vividly read within Gray Eagle’s eyes and upon his handsome face.
“She is white! She is unworthy of your touch! Her mind and blood are evil. Send her to the Tipi Sa!” he sneered, outrage shuddering his stalwart body.
Watching her husband and listening to him, Shalee was brutally thrown backwards in time to a day when she had occupied Rebecca’s place. Without warning or knowing, she shrieked, “Hiya!”
Both Bright Arrow and Gray Eagle were astonished by the vehemence in her tone and the gleam of anger which filled her turbulent green eyes. In Oglala, she murmured almost inaudibly, “Kill her or send her away, but never put an innocent girl in that vile place. I will never forgive you, my husband, if you do this terrible thing! Rebecca is not to blame for the hatred between the white man and the Indian. Why must a white girl pay for the warfare which men instigate? It is cruel and unjust! To condemn a child like this to such a brutal fate would make us appear the savages we are alleged to be! Such spitefulness is beneath you, my husband…”
Gray Eagle stared at her in disbelief. She had not spoken to him in this rebellious tone in eighteen years! Neither had she coldly glared at him as she did this minute, not since…His fury and bitterness mounted as he incredulously gazed into the beautiful and defiant expression of Alisha Williams…
Chapter Five
Rebecca Kenny’s head jerked around and she stared inquisitively at the Indian beauty. She anxiously wondered what was going on. Why did Shalee and Bright Arrow appear to rebel against Gray Eagle’s harsh words and actions? It seemed as if they wished to protect her and he would not permit it. Indian wives and children never defied a warrior, especially not a chief! She did not understand…
It was clear to the frightened white girl that these unpredictable Indians were disagreeing upon some vital matter which concerned her. Before these two had returned, Gray Eagle had been trying to find some way to communicate with her. He was an intrepid, imposing man. Somehow she had innocently angered him, and she did not know why. No doubt he was furious with his stalwart son for bringing a white captive to his tepee! He was definitely enraged by Bright Arrow’s comforting embrace. She was tempted to move away from her love, but could not summon the strength to do so.
Whatever the chief had said, Bright Arrow’s mother was against it. Numerous questions plagued Rebecca’s distressed mind. Why did her impending fate matter to Shalee? Wh
y was Bright Arrow treating her this gentle way before his powerful father when he had treated her so coldly and indifferently before his band of warriors? This whole situation was perplexing and dangerous. She wondered if it was possible for Shalee and Bright Arrow to overrule the reprehensible fate which Gray Eagle must have suggested to them.
With two graceful catlike strides, Gray Eagle was standing before his rebellious wife. She shamefully lowered her head. She could not gaze into his naked expression of intermingled anguish, disappointment, and anger. Yet, she did not apologize for her outburst, a sign which troubled him.
“Come, Shalee. We must talk,” he tersely stated, a scowl upon his handsome features. He grasped her arm to lead her outside.
“What about the girl, Gray Eagle?” she anxiously asked, resisting his command.
“We will speak first, then decide her fate. Come, there are things which must be said between us.” He released her arm and headed outside.
Shalee glanced over at Bright Arrow and Rebecca. They both looked so young, so vulnerable, so confused, and so deeply attracted to each other. This was not going to be easy for any of them. What was the correct decision? She did not know.
She mutely followed her husband out of their tepee to seek privacy. They walked along in strained silence; they did not even touch. When they came to a grove of cottonwood trees, Gray Eagle halted. He turned to face her. He studied her for a time, unable to find the right words to begin their conversation.
She took the initiative. “I am sorry for my rude behavior, but I could not stop myself. I know what it’s like to be in her place. She’s so young and innocent, Gray Eagle. Must she suffer for the hatred between the Indian and the white man? Must it always be this way?” she entreated, her eyes sad.
“We are enemies at war, Shalee. A line must be drawn somewhere. If you do remember what it is like, then you must also remember how futile and painful such a forbidden union is,” he reasoned, his temper under control. “Do you wish our son to know the same agony which we endured so long ago? If not for Black Cloud and Matu…” He did not complete his thought; it was unnecessary. “There is no Matu to help them. It will only cause trouble and anguish for all concerned. She must be sent away.”
“It is too late, my husband. Did you not see the way they touched and looked at each other? I accepted you, and Rebecca has accepted Bright Arrow. Why is it so difficult or impossible for the two of you to accept us?”
“You are my wife. I have accepted you, even knowing you are white. But with Bright Arrow and Rebecca, it is different.”
Her gaze fused with his. “If not for Matu’s ruse, it would be the same between us; would it not?” she asked in a sorrowful tone, but he did not answer.
When he looked away in brooding silence, she reasoned, “Why does secrecy change things. I am still white.”
“Because my honor remains unstained. Much as I love you, Shalee, I could not live in dishonor. A man is nothing without his honor. Wife or white slave, I could never part with you. But our son must join with one of his own kind. For a man to carry white blood at birth and then to mate with a girl of white blood would give his son more white blood than Oglala. Do you wish that despised fate for the son of our son? The Oglala would never accept a half-breed as their chief, nor a white girl in his life. No one knows this deadly truth better than I!”
“But our son is…”
He sharply cut off the remainder of her tormenting words, “No! If he joins to an Oglala, the Indian blood will be stronger. This white girl will only blind him to his rank and people. She could become as important to him as you are to me. The quicker she is removed from his life, the better. My people will question his loyalty and wisdom if he keeps this white girl. He must have no stain upon his name. What if this girl reminds my people that you also carry white blood? Dissension in my tribe would be unwise and dangerous. I must think of my people.”
Shalee chose to ignore his constant use of “my people.”
“What of our son?” she asked. “What of his wants and wishes? What of this innocent girl?”
“For a chief, the good of his people must come before his own desires and dreams. I know this only too well! In time, after she is gone, Bright Arrow will forget her. He will know I have done what is best for all concerned,” he concluded, bitterness lacing his tone.
“If I had been traded to another warrior years ago, would you have forgotten me? Would you have thanked your father for doing what was best for everyone, including you?” she artfully challenged. “The words you spoke in our tepee hurt me deeply. After all these years, I heard how you felt so long ago.”
Annoyed, he snapped, “It was different then! You are the daughter of Black Cloud; she is white!”
“Only in the eyes of your people,” she parried softly, stung by his glacial rebuke.
“But that is all which matters,” he snarled, wishing she were not so cunning and persistent. Just as he dreaded, Rebecca’s evil was already at work!
“That is my point, Gray Eagle. In many Indian hearts, this difference does not matter. But no one will prevent the damage such beliefs make. Each one refuses to speak out for the same reasons which you will not. So, the hatred and separation continues. Many unions between our two peoples have suffered because no one will attempt to halt this cruel injustice. You accepted me because others do not know I am white. Others warriors take and keep white squaws. Yet, acceptance is denied because each man is unwilling to take a stand against this foolishness. When will this brutal contradiction end? If a white woman is unworthy of a warrior’s acceptance, then she should also be unworthy of his touch, and of bearing his children who will suffer for their mixed bloods. It is wrong,” she said with dismay, unable to comprehend this vicious paradox.
“But it is our way! If I tried to speak out for white slaves, no man would follow me into battle. I cannot show weakness and friendship to those who seek to take away our lands and destroy us!” he shouted his disagreement.
“We are not speaking of greedy, evil men! We are speaking of helpless women. There is a vast difference, my husband. Why do you close your eyes to this truth?” she implored him.
“One man cannot change the minds and hearts of many people, people who have been wronged, people who have battled and hated for years. I would be a fool to do so.”
“If what one man thinks and does cannot influence the minds and hearts of others, then why would Bright Arrow’s taking of this girl matter?” she craftily ensnared him in his own verbal trap.
“He is the son of a chief! He is the son of Gray Eagle! He will be our next leader. It matters greatly what he says and does. To fight the enemy with cunning and bravery is one thing, but to make a foolish truce with him is another,” he snapped.
“For men, this is true. But for women, it is not. A man thinks and feels first with his mind; a woman, with her heart. If a white woman can love and accept her Indian captor and his people, why can they not accept her? She has not fought against you. To punish her for the evil of other whites is not just. Would it be so degrading to point this out to the others? They know the words of Gray Eagle are wise and just. Would they not heed you? Could it not change things for many white women who have been helplessly caught in the middle of this conflict? Could it not ease the heartache and remove the guilt of warriors who wish to publicly proclaim their love and trust in their white squaws?”
“To do as you ask would openly condone these forbidden unions. They would flourish. Soon, the blood of the Oglala would be half white. In time the Oglala would cease to exist. I cannot bring such a despicable death to my people. I am no longer a young warrior, Shalee. Each day I must prove I retain the strength and cunning to lead my people.”
Shalee walked off a short distance to consider his disquieting words. The problem was that they were both partially right. To solve one trouble would only inspire new ones. Would there ever be a solution to this trying situation? She feared not, for neither side would ever relent. Wisps of
auburn hair wavered in the gentle breeze and danced upon her forehead and cheeks. Her emerald green eyes gazed upward at the white clouds which were drifting aimlessly upon a rich sapphire backdrop. The whisper of green leaves was nearly inaudible. Yet, none of the peacefulness or vitality of this setting relaxed her.
She turned to look at her husband. He was staring off into the forest, lost in moody reflections. Her heart relented as she viewed the weight of this burden upon his shoulders. Her gaze softened as she looked at his virile, towering frame. Time had been generous to him! His robust physique favorably compared to that of a young warrior’s. He was vital, alive with strength and valor. No muscle had lost its tone; no sign of aging made its presence known. Her heart swelled with love, respect, and desire. She had not realized he feared to lose his power as time passed and gradually sapped his vitality and youth.
Shalee had ceased to think upon her English heritage long ago. From white captives she had learned of Great Britain’s defeat to the American Colonies and their joint treaty. It had seemed that after the Americans won their independence from her homeland, they had turned their covetous eyes and insatiable greed upon the opulent lands of the Indians. More and more, the white settlers spread westward.
With each passing year, a noticeable change was apparent within these new Americans who attempted the arduous and dangerous trek into this promising and rapidly expanding territory. This new breed of American was as daring and defiant as the intrepid Sioux. These pioneering whites had become courageous, self-reliant, and aggressive.
Tragically, many whites were good and honest people, seeking new hope and freedom. Yet, they were too frequently overshadowed by those consumed with greed, evil, and animosity. A bitter and costly clash had resulted from the head-on confrontation between these two powerful, determined, and desperate forces. Tragic defeat appeared inevitable for one side or the other. Shalee feared to surmise the victor or the loser.
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