Shalee came out to greet them, her wide eyes checking each man for wounds. Finding none, her attention went to Rebecca. “Is she hurt, Bright Arrow? Did they harm her?” she asked anxiously.
“Yes, Mother. But I will make her well again. Fire-Brand said they gave her medicine to make her sleep. When she awakens, she will see me first. She will know all is well.”
He carried her into their tepee and laid her upon his mat. Shalee and Gray Eagle followed after him. Gray Eagle explained Rebecca’s weakened condition and harsh treatment to Shalee. The Indian princess grimaced in anguish. She helped her son care for his white slave. They carefully and tenderly forced water and nourishing soup down her throat. They kept her warm.
There was a mysterious tension and curious excitement in Shalee which neither warrior could fathom. Each time this strange mood was questioned, Shalee would smile mischievously and promise to tell them later. First, she needed to speak privately with Rebecca ‘Kenny to resolve her own suspicions and hopes. Too, there was a tormenting secret she must soon relate to her husband which might end these destructive echoes from his past, a dark secret which his dying father had confessed to her in his last days of failing health, a weighty secret which should have been revealed eighteen winters ago. Shalee winced at the pain and anguish that carefully guarded secret had wreaked upon all their lives. She alone held the key to release them from the past.
It was mid-morning the following day before Rebecca began to moan and to stir. Elation and suspense brightened the young warrior’s eyes. He waited apprehensively for her to open hers. He leaned over her prone body and tenderly stroked her damp hair. He spoke softly to her, calling her from her land of protective darkness and rosy dreams.
Gray Eagle and Shalee sat upon their mat, knowing this first moment of blissful reunion belonged to them. Both had faced death and separation; both had endured pain and humiliation. This would be a time of healing and accepting for them. Gray Eagle’s arm went around his wife. Too late he had caught the perilous mistake in their frantic plans. Even at great risk, Rebecca should have fled with his son. Gray Eagle pulled Shalee’s body close to his. She snuggled against him and laid her dark chestnut head upon his bronze chest. He kissed the top of her head and rested his cheek there. “Soon the past will die, my love,” she whispered.
Rebecca’s eyes struggled to open. Her body felt strangely light, oddly detached. Her mind was hazy and sluggish. Her mouth was dry. She fought to regain her senses and to clear her vision. She stared at him in disbelief. Was she dreaming?. Was she dead? Her hand reached up to touch him, to ascertain these facts.
Her weak voice questioned, “Bright Arrow?”
He beamed, white teeth revealed in a striking smile, eyes glowing with liquid black fire. He caught her shaky hand before it could fall back to her chest. He kissed it over and over. “I feared you had left me forever. You have slept many days. I have not left your side since I took you from the fort. You are safe, Rebecca. Bright Arrow will allow no man to harm you again. You are my woman. I came for you just as you came for me.”
“You came back for me? Why?” she murmured in utter perplexity.
“For the same reason you came for me,” he replied softly, his ebony eyes revealing love and concern.
“That isn’t possible. Your father would never allow it. You’re Indian,” she reasoned against thinking her prayers and dreams had been answered.
“You are white. Yet, you love me. Is that impossible?” he chided.
“That’s different,” she argued faintly, fearing the chief’s reaction to her daring rescue and return. Her dazed mind had difficulty accepting or reasoning out this incredible news.
“How so?” he teased, ignorant of her fears and suspicions.
“Your father and your people would never permit it,” she weakly debated.
“My father says you are mine. The Oglala say you are mine. I say you are mine. Do you say otherwise? Many Oglala helped me rescue you from the fort,” he delivered this shocking news to the wide-eyed girl.
“They said I could stay here?” she asked in astonishment. “They helped to free me? Even your father?”
“Yes. To offer your life for mine was a great deed. It took much love and courage. When you are well, Wi will mingle our bloods. You will become as an Indian. You will be my woman.”
“Because I saved your life?” she exclaimed.
“Yes.”
“But I did it because I love you, not to win their favor and acceptance. I could not let you die.” Her sleepy eyes caressed his handsome face.
“They know this. Many helped with your rescue. The scout at the fort was the son of the Sisseton chief who was killed when they captured me. He came to us and told of your capture. He led the attack against the fort.”
She did not dare ask about the fate of the fort. She was here with the man she loved. She would become as one of them. She would live out her days with Bright Arrow and his people. Unaware of the presence of his parents, she smiled faintly and said, “I am blessed to be owned by you, Bright Arrow. One day you will be the great warrior and chief which your father is. In spite of all, I like him very much. He trusted me, Bright Arrow,” she said in a tone of amazement. “He is wise and brave. I will be happy here. Your mother is so kind and beautiful. I will be good to them. I will obey you and your laws. I will give you no reason to be sorry for your love and trust.”
Her lids drooped. He noted her fatigue and weakness. “Sleep, Rebecca. There will be time for talk later. I love you. I will protect you forever.”
She smiled. “I love you, too,” she murmured, then closed her eyes.
“Come, my son,” the older warrior called out. “Let us go and walk together. Your life now reflects my past one as the stream mirrors my image when I look into her shiny face. We must speak of ways to stop your steps from following mine. There are many words we must speak to each other.”
The two men arose and departed, each casting another look at the woman he loved and desired above all others. Rebecca’s eyes remained closed as if already asleep. Shalee returned the heated look from her beloved husband who had shared so much love and pain with her.
Shalee moved to stand over Rebecca. She tenderly and hopefully gazed down at the youthful white girl, knowing how weak and exhausted she must be, dreading to have this new ray of hope dashed by her coming words, and needing to solve this haunting riddle which had plagued her mind since Rebecca’s recent departure. If this was the time for ending nightmares and inspiring new dreams, she must act quickly.
She knelt beside the white girl and softly entreated her to wakefulness, “Rebecca? I must speak with you.”
Rebecca’s heavy lids fluttered and her amber eyes opened slowly. “Did you say something, Shalee?” she faintly questioned.
Shalee bravely met her probing gaze and replied clearly, “Yes, Rebecca. You must answer two questions for me.”
Rebecca stared at her entreating gate and then at her soft lips. “You speak perfect English; I do not understand.”
Comprehending there was only one way to win her trust and to explain her talent, she toughened her heart and asserted the one lie which must remain a secret for all time. “When I was two winters old, whites kidnapped me from my father’s camp and took me far away from my people. My mother was Black Cloud’s white squaw. Because of my skin color and green eyes, the whites believed me also white. I was raised as the daughter of a white couple. Long ago we came to the land of the Sioux. I met Gray Eagle and fell in love with him. When my real identity was brought to light, we were allowed to join in marriage. Because of the hostility between the white man and the Indian, my white blood has been ignored.”
She watched Rebecca closely as she related this astonishing tale. “I first met Gray Eagle as his white enemy. For a time, I lived as his white captive before my real identity was brought to light. This is why I can feel the shame and agony which you now experience. Gray Eagle also recalls what it was like to face the shame and
weakness of loving an enemy. He wished to spare our son those same torments. Do you understand what I am telling you, Rebecca?”
“Yes, Shalee. But you are an Indian princess, and I am all white. To protect the honor and happiness of your son is only natural. I wish it were not so, but I cannot change who and what I am.”
“Gray Eagle does not wish for Bright Arrow’s taking of you to remind others that I also carry white blood. When the Cheyenne warrior came to challenge Bright Arrow, he taunted them before our people, for both had chosen a white woman over one of their own kind. This could cause much resentment. A chief cannot allow his name and leadership to be blackened by such a defeat.”
“I would do nothing to disgrace him or to hurt him,” Rebecca vowed honestly.
“We often shame and hurt those we love without meaning to, Rebecca. How old are you?” the Indian princess questioned in a curious tone.
“Seventeen. Why?” she wondered aloud at this unexpected query.
“When were you born?” Shalee went on, ignoring the girl’s curiosity.
“In August of ’78. Why?” Rebecca questioned again, sensing this talk was important to the Indian princess for some odd reason.
“I had thought you older than my son. He was born in February of ’78. When Joe last visited us, he spoke of the child Mary was expecting. That was in June of ‘77. I am confused. You said you had no other family.” Shalee prayed Rebecca would reveal the answers which she desperately needed to hear.
“My mother lost her first child during that summer. She became pregnant with me in November. Was that the last time you saw my father?”
“Yes. I was saddened to hear of his death and that of your mother. Joe was our friend. His daughter will also be our friend. Do not fear, Rebecca, you will be safe and happy here with us. Perhaps in time, others will forget you are white. I pray you and Bright Arrow will come to share the same strong love which is between me and my husband. You must rest now.”
“Shalee, may I ask one question?” she inquired, but rushed on before she could reply, “Who is this Powchutu? Why does his name spark such anger?”
Shalee sighed heavily. “Once long ago, he was like a brother to me. But I was the woman he loved and desired. He was obsessed with winning me from Gray Eagle. He did many wicked and painful things to us. He became a vengeful and powerful enemy. He kidnapped me from Gray Eagle’s side and took me far away. There was an accident and I lost the child I was carrying. I almost died. We have longed for another child, but I seemed unable to bear another one. While I was ill, it was your father who rescued me and returned me here to Gray Eagle. To hear Powchutu’s name only brings back those terrible times of anguish. For a time, Gray Eagle believed I loved Powchutu and had chosen him. Peace and love were a long and difficult time in coming to us. Now, Powchutu’s spirit returns to haunt us once more. Please do not ever speak his name again. To do so will only anger Gray Eagle and cause him to resent you. Powchutu is dead; let his evil soul remain buried for all our sakes.”
“I will do as you say. I promise never to mention his name again. In time, I pray your husband will come to respect and to like me as I do him.”
Shalee smiled affectionately. “Sleep now. All will be well again soon.” For once, guilt did not fill her heart.
Shalee left to seek her husband with the information which she hoped would settle their past life, once and for all time. When she came to where her two men were standing, she smiled and embraced each of them. Bright Arrow left them to return to his tepee to watch over his love.
Shalee studied her husband closely. He seemed relaxed, and yet subtly apprehensive. He looked serene, and yet slightly worried. “This matter still troubles you deeply, my husband?” she ventured, dreading to broach the subject which plagued him.
“There is but one matter which haunts me, my love. I pray that time will heal its wounds and will halt its pull upon me.”
“Perhaps what I must say to you will sever the strings which bind you so fiercely to the past. In my fear and panic, I ignored several things which Rebecca had said to me. I do not wish to displease you or to hurt you, my love, but I questioned her to learn the truth about this vital matter.”
At his annoyed look, she quickly rushed on to expose her crucial information. “Rebecca is not the daughter of Powchutu. As with our first child, Mary lost her first one before it could be born. In all truth, my husband, Rebecca is Joe’s daughter. She is his child in name and in blood. She was born during the last buffalo season; she is not yet eighteen winters old. There is no way she could be Powchutu’s child, for he died before both the spring and winter buffalo hunts in the year before our son was born. As we spoke, she told me of the day she was born and of the loss of Mary’s first child. She is Joe Kenny’s daughter, my love,” she stressed once more, making sure he was grasping the depth of her news.
“You spoke of Powchutu with Rebecca?” Gray Eagle asked in disbelief.
“Only to say he was a past enemy and to never speak his name again. Rebecca is young and sensitive. We must never tell her of the love between her mother and him. Perhaps it was never meant for the child of Powchutu to be born to face the evil which his father left behind. Our son loves and desires the daughter of our past friend, not our treacherous enemy. We must accept her as our new friend. Do we not owe her father this much, my love? In time, I pray others will accept her and her place within his life.”.
Gray Eagle contemplated this startling news. “She is in truth the daughter of Koda Joe? Perhaps you were right when you said the Great Spirit would reveal her purpose here. Can it be He shows me the scout’s evil is gone forever? Did He lead her here to us for love and protection in exchange for the good deeds of her real father? Just as Koda Joe saved your life, she has saved the life of our son. If only she were Indian…” he murmured regretfully.
“Sadly she is not, my love, and she never will be. Until Indian hearts soften toward her, she must remain as his white captive. Who can say what will come with the new sun? The Great Spirit may find some way to make her Indian,” she jested.
“Is there more you wish to tell me?” he asked, pulling her into his possessive embrace.
She laid her face against his hard, smooth chest and sighed in contentment. She moved her hands up and down his stalwart frame. Powchutu was dead; Joe and Mary were gone forever. Rebecca was here and safe; their son was at their side. The whites and Bluecoats had once more been halted for a time. A new child was growing within her body, their child, a child of love which would be a mixture of love and acceptance from both worlds. What purpose could that dark secret serve? How could she tell her husband the dying words of his own father? How could she tell this invincible warrior, this noble chief of the Sioux, this man who was the very air she breathed, that his worst enemy—that traitorous half-breed scout who had nearly destroyed their lives and happiness—was his half brother? How could she tell her lover that the man he had despised and battled many times was his own father’s son, his own brother?
She unwillingly recalled the many times those years ago she had emotionally responded to the similarities in their looks, personalities, and traits. How she wished Running Wolf had never revealed this agonizing truth to her. How she wished Running Wolf had unselfishly proclaimed Powchutu as his son, for his mother was also Indian. What tragic irony; he had never been born a despicable half-breed! In truth, Powchutu was the son of a great Sioux chief and an Indian maiden from another tribe, a maiden who had been sold to a French trapper while carrying Running Wolf’s son. Perhaps the envy and bitterness which drove him to such desperate and tormenting lengths would never have existed. How could she tell her love that the man who had lived and died as his bitter enemy carried his own blood? She could not. This secret must join the others which had briefly echoed from the distant past and now lay silent.
She hugged her lover fiercely and declared, “The past is dead, my love, only our bright future lives. Soon we will lose one son to his new love, only to gain
another child when the snows refresh our lands. What shall we call our new son?” she asked her husband.
“What if this son is a daughter?” he jested in return, hope and joy flooding his powerful body, refreshing his spirit, cleansing his heart of the past.
She laughed merrily. “Perhaps our next child will be a daughter, but this one is another son. Until he seeks his vision and new name, we shall call him Wanmdi Taopi.”
He grinned roguishly. “What do you need with a Little Eagle when you already possess a mighty Eagle?” he teased her, pleased with her choice. “It will be as you wish, wife. Come, let us see to our son and Joe’s daughter.”
She radiated the happiness and relief which flowed within her. “I love you with all my heart, Gray Eagle. If I have you forever, it still would not be long enough.”
Before they could head back to their tepee, Bright Arrow returned to speak with them. He was grinning in satisfaction and pleasure. “In time, our people will come to accept Rebecca; this I know with all my heart. She brings such love and joy to my life. I could not give her up. We must never tell her about her real father, for it would hurt her deeply.”
Gray Eagle and Shalee exchanged smiles and mysterious looks. When questioned about this odd behavior, they related the truth about Rebecca’s father. “She is the child of your friend Joe Kenny?” he asked in disbelief.
“Yes, my son. The evil spirit of Powchutu now rests forever. The Great Spirit sent her to us for love and protection. He also wished to end this bitterness which had lived within my heart for many winters. We will never speak his name again in the tepee of Gray Eagle.”
“She is happy here, Father. I will protect her from all harm. Yesterday’s sun has gone forever. I will ask no more questions. The past must sleep once more.”
Gray Eagle smiled at his son who was very much a man now. “This is good, Bright Arrow. At your side, the others will one day forget she is white. The moon will surely come when you two can join in honor. The Great Spirit was wise in sending her to us. She did not call the past to life; she dispelled its evil spirits forever. One day, the daughter of Joe Kenny will become Oglala.”
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