Song Of The Warrior

by Georgina Gentry

  “May I get you some punch, Miss Harlow?”

  “Certainly.” Anything to escape from returning to the elderly gentlemen talking politics, she thought. He offered her his arm in a very exaggerated manner and Willow took it. They walked to the refreshment table.

  “You said you were in Boston?”

  She nodded. “Miss Priddy’s Female Academy.”

  “That’s a very prestigious school.” It bothered her that the young dandy seemed so terribly impressed.

  “The Reverend Harlow has influential relatives there; the van Schuylers, who pressured Miss Priddy to board me,” Willow explained as she accepted the cup of punch. “I was sort of a community and church project to help the poor savage.”

  “I beg your pardon, Miss Willow?” He looked at her blankly.

  “Actually, my name is Takseen,” she said, as she sipped her punch. “It means ‘Willow’ in the Nez Perce language.”

  Was that just a flicker of dismay in his pale eyes? “You’re Indian?”

  “Less than half,” Willow answered, “my mother was white, Salish, Paloose, and Nez Perce. I understand my father was a Russian trapper, although I never met him. Reverend Harlow and his wife rescued me when I was a very young child.”

  Was there just the slightest change in the officer’s attitude, or had she imagined it?

  Lieutenant Warton shook his head, cleared his throat. “Well, it really isn’t anyone’s business, is it? Especially the local old biddies.” He smiled as he looked toward the handful of white ladies watching them with curiosity.

  Willow warmed toward him despite her initial feeling of dislike. “Thank you for that.”

  He brushed the curl off his forehead. “Your arrival in this horrible wilderness is the most interesting thing that’s happened.”

  “Horrible?” Willow was stunned. “Why, I had just been thinking how wild and beautiful the country was.”

  “It just isn’t civilized; the Northwest, all the way to Canada, is as untamed and savage as its people. You see, I grew up in a small, Missouri town, Wartonville, and it had a nice steady routine; almost nothing ever happened that wasn’t planned.”

  It sounded dreadfully dull, but she decided it couldn’t be any worse than Boston and it wasn’t her place to comment. “Wartonville? Named for relatives?”

  The handsome young officer blushed modestly. “My father. Nothing happened in the town without his approval. My folks are both dead now.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Lieutenant Warton shrugged. “It’s been awhile; several years after the war.”

  “I’m sure they were quite proud of you in your dashing uniform, leading cavalry charges and all.”

  He started to say something, grinned and nodded. “My mother doted on me and Daddy always thought I would follow in his footsteps, but then, something happened …”

  Willow waited for him to continue, but instead, the man frowned and rubbed his receding chin. “Well, here I am going on and on about me, Miss Willow. I understand Reverend Harlow has accumulated one of the finest stretches of land in the valley?”

  “I wouldn’t know about that; but then, most of the whites have.” Bear’s dark, stormy face came to her mind. “Just what are the army’s plans, Lieutenant?”

  He frowned and set his punch cup on the table. “I’m afraid there’s going to be trouble, but we all hope the Indians will be reasonable and it won’t come to that.”

  “It appears to me that resolution should be simple,” Willow said as she sipped her punch. “We get off the Nez Perce land, stop digging for gold and polluting their salmon streams. I’m sure that would end all hostilities.”

  “Surely you jest.” The lieutenant nodded. “Why, it would be a shame to waste good land when there are so many settlers who are eager to plow and plant it. I might even take a claim myself when my hitch is up. And then, there’s the famous legend of the Nez Perce gold. Tell me, Miss Willow, is there any truth to it?”

  “Gold?” Willow had to think a moment. “I’m afraid I haven’t given it much thought.”

  He laughed. “Then you may be the only one who hasn’t. Old-timers say there’s nuggets the size of hen’s eggs. Half of them came to this area to search for it. They think anyone with Nez Perce blood knows its secret hiding place.”

  She dismissed the idea with a shrug. “It only makes sense that if there was any gold, the Nez Perce would buy food and supplies for their people.”

  “Unless,” he suggested, “they might be afraid that if any of those big nuggets show up, it’ll bring an even greater rush of whites to the area.”

  “And that might cause an Indian war.”

  He nodded. “That’s why General Howard’s here; to let the Indians know the government means business in case there’s going to be trouble.”

  “Nonsense!” Willow snapped. “Chief Joseph is a reasonable, peaceful leader; he knows his people are vastly outnumbered. I can’t believe he’d start a war.”

  “He might not, but his brother, Ollokot, leader of the young warriors and braves like that Hohots would fight at the drop of a hat; they don’t like to be pushed or walked on.”

  Bear’s rugged face came to her mind. “No, having met some of them, I could vouch for that. I think some of them would die fighting rather than give up their freedom.”

  “Then they may get their chance,” the lieutenant said rather testily, “if they’re rash and uncivilized enough to take on the United States Army.”

  Uncivilized. She felt abruptly defensive. “Some of them are gallant enough to fight, even if they know they can’t win.”

  “And for what purpose?” Lieutenant Warton snorted. “A smart man; a prudent man weighs the odds. What point is there in dying for a cause, no matter how noble?”

  “Why, Lieutenant, how can you say that when you yourself only a few years back donned the blue uniform to put an end to slavery?”

  He hesitated, cleared his throat. “Of course. Forgive me, Miss Willow, I forget how idealistic young ladies are.”

  She wanted to smack his arrogant face, but she managed to control herself. “On the contrary, Lieutenant, today, I came face to face with reality. Have you seen the conditions the Nez Perce are living under?”

  “Remember I’m new to the area, Miss,” he reminded her. “Besides, it’s difficult for me to be sympathetic when less than a year ago, savages slaughtered our gallant General Custer at the Little Big Horn.”

  “Those weren’t Nez Perce,” Willow corrected him, “the Nez Perce were never comrades of the Sioux or Cheyenne.”

  The lieutenant shrugged. “It’s hard for most of us to tell one Indian from another, begging your pardon, ma’am. I will say I admire you for going out to the camp with the trouble that’s brewing. You have an escort of course?”

  Willow shook her head and the officer looked stunned.

  “Why, Miss Willow, is that wise? Some of those braves get roaring drunk and there’s no telling what they might do to a beautiful young girl—”

  “And, pray tell, just who is selling them the whiskey, Lieutenant?” She looked at him, smiling sweetly.

  “The army can’t oversee every trading post in the whole West, ma’am,” he conceded.

  “Lieutenant Warton, the Nez Perce have been on peaceful terms with the whites for almost a hundred years, ever since they helped Lewis and Clark survive their ordeal when those explorers crossed this country.”

  “No longer,” he pointed out.

  “And whose fault is that?” she challenged with a toss of her dark curls. “However, I feel safe among them because I have Nez Perce blood.”

  “Do they consider you one of them?”

  She saw the triumph in his eyes at her uncertain hesitancy. “I-I suppose I’m sort of in the middle, Lieutenant; caught between two races and belonging to both.” Or neither, a small voice inside her said.

  The young officer bowed. “I am sorry, Miss Harlow, I didn’t mean to upset you, I only feared for your safety. I
f I can get General Howard’s permission, I’d like to escort you tomorrow if you insist on returning to the Indian camp.”

  “That’s very brave of you.”

  He shrugged and sniffed in disdain. “Those Indians don’t scare me. I think faced with a real soldier, they’d turn and run.”

  Again she imagined Bear’s broad shoulders and rugged face. “I wouldn’t bet my life on that, Lieutenant.”

  The reverend joined them just then. “Well, Lieutenant, have you been monopolizing my ward?” He didn’t look unhappy about it.

  Billy Warton grinned. “I plead guilty, Reverend, and with your permission, I hope to monopolize more of her time. In fact, I’ve just offered my services to drive her out to that Indian camp. I worry about her safety.”

  “Splendid!” the old man said. “I’ll admit I’ve been concerned, but Willow does feel called upon to do the Lord’s work and help civilize her people.”

  “If Miss Willow manages to do that,” the handsome young man laughed, “perhaps we won’t have to fight them after all.”

  Willow managed to hold her tongue. How often had the teachers at Miss Priddy’s lectured her on her rebellious spirit? She must squelch this tendency.

  The pastor peered at her over his glasses. “You’re very quiet, Willow, my dear, is there a problem?”

  She took a deep breath. “No, of course not. It’s very sweet of the lieutenant to accompany me out to the Indian camp. I appreciate his concern, seeing as how I’m a foolish female who can’t look after myself.”

  She waited for one of them to take offense, but since they both seemed to agree wholeheartedly, neither seemed to catch her sarcasm. She took the old man’s arm. “Reverend Harlow, you don’t look well. Perhaps we should leave early.”

  “Perhaps we should,” he conceded, “I am weary tonight, and after all, you have met the lieutenant and that was most important.”

  “I quite agree!” The officer grinned and made a sweeping bow. “It was my pleasure.”

  Willow curtsied; thinking that there was a method to her guardian’s madness. Perhaps he was thinking that marrying Lieutenant Warton would be a very sound move for his ward; a good background, a town named for his family, perhaps money and some investments. A rich husband would certainly give her guardian a secure retirement. Besides, Billy Warton was a gallant soldier, and his snappy uniform would set any civilized girl’s heart aflutter.

  “Until tomorrow morning then,” she smiled at Lieutenant Warton and turned to leave the social.

  They went home. The old man went right to bed, but Willow stayed up for a long time working on her lessons. It was late when she retired. Lying there sleepless, Willow could hear her elderly benefactor wheezing in his sleep in the next room. Reverend Harlow wasn’t in very good health, after all. No doubt he was concerned about getting by in his old age and providing for Willow’s future. She could do a whole lot worse than marrying Billy Warton.

  Finally, she drifted off to sleep and dreamed that she had just married and was in her bridal chamber with a man. In the dream, as she unbuttoned the tiny buttons on her snowy bridal dress, the hands that reached to help her were dark and strong. When she looked up in surprise, it was Bear’s face she saw.

  Inepe hanisa, he said in Nez Perce, I take you for wife. Bear, all savage and forbidding as he swept her up in his brawny arms and kissed her with unbridled passion that made her gasp for breath. When Willow sat, up in bed suddenly, breathing hard, she realized she was alone in the darkness.

  Her face burned and she buried her face in her hands, shaking and horrified. Had it only been a nightmare ... or an uncivilized, untamed fantasy?

  Four

  Willow did not sleep well. Over and over in her dreams, she remembered the look on Bear’s haughty face when she had struck him with her little whip. How foolish she had been! She remembered the way he had bent the big frontiersman over his knee and how Deek Tanner had whimpered and begged for mercy. If Bear put that kind of fear in a tough renegade like that, what could he have done to her?

  Yet as she dressed in the early morning light, she looked forward to returning to the eager little children. And after all, Lieutenant Warton planned to accompany her.

  Carefully, Willow packed A Tale of Two Cities in her satchel. She had so few books to use and certainly not enough to go around. After last night, maybe she had shamed some of the settlers into helping her. At any rate, she could read from the book aloud. Surely it was universal enough that any people could understand its message of turmoil, love, terror, and noble sacrifice.

  The reverend still wasn’t well, but the Indian housekeeper was coming this morning, so after making him a cup of tea, Willow made ready to leave.

  “Young Warton is accompanying you?” The old man actually smiled.

  “Well, yes. He was concerned about my safety.” She wasn’t sure whether she was looking forward to seeing Billy Warton again or not.

  “Fine young man and from a prominent background, he tells me.”

  “Hmm.” Somehow that seemed less important to her than it did to the parson. “I’ll be back this afternoon. If there’s any problem, do send someone for me.”

  “I’m just wearing out like an old clock,” he grumbled, “and a trifle concerned about how I’ll survive when I can no longer preach.”

  She had never given such a thing much thought. “The church board back East will give you a small pension; and of course, you have gotten that land.”

  He hesitated, remembering that no one here knew the real reason he had been reassigned so often and finally defrocked for his fiery, strict preaching. In this primitive place, thousands of miles from real civilization, the settlers were so thrilled to have a parson, no one made any inquiries about his past. “Yes, I’ve got land,” he grumbled, “but I’m not in any shape to work it. What I need is some young man with money and family ties to work the farm; make improvements. He’d need a wife who wouldn’t mind having an old codger around that house. Of course, I wouldn’t want you to feel obligated, my dear, even though my wife and I devoted our lives to your care.”

  “Oh, well of course I’m obligated, sir, after all you’ve done for me, taking me in and educating me.”

  “My prayers are answered.” He rolled his rheumy eyes heavenward. “I think Billy Warton knows something about farming; he said his family owned a lot of land, but he didn’t want to go back to Missouri.”

  Willow nodded, picked up her books and fled out the door. Had Billy Warton and the reverend already talked about this? Did she have the nerve to ask?

  The lieutenant was sitting out front of the house with the buggy. “Good morning, Miss Willow.” He got down to assist her. “I took the liberty of picking up the buggy at the livery stable for you. Nice morning for a drive.”

  “Isn’t it, though?” She returned his smile as he took her books from her hands and put the satchel on the seat. He had fine-boned, soft hands, she thought, remembering strong, dark ones. The officer now put his hands on her waist to lift her into the buggy. For just a moment, she was keenly aware of the heat of his fingers on her trim waist and startled by the sudden hungry look in his eyes as he held her. “You can put me down now, Lieutenant.”

  “What? Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Willow.” He set her in the buggy, got in beside her. “I do wish you would call me Bill; I hope to get to know you very well.”

  She smiled automatically. He didn’t seem mature enough to be called Bill, even though he was probably older than Bear and certainly older than Raven. Yet he seemed like a raw, callow boy. Perhaps it was because with his background, Billy Warton had been shielded from life’s hard knocks.

  He snapped the little whip and the old gelding started off at a slow trot. “I’ll feel better about you going,” he glanced sideways at her, “knowing I’m along to protect you if there should be any trouble.” He patted the pistol on his hip with a grand gesture.

  “I’m not expecting any trouble, Lieutenant.”

  “Bill,” he
corrected.

  “Bill,” she said without enthusiasm, wishing now he hadn’t come along. Exhibiting the pistol, he had reminded her of a child with a prized toy.

  “That’s better,” he said with a grin, and the boyish lock of hair fell down on his forehead. “I guarantee I intend to know you a lot better, Miss Willow.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  “Don’t be, you deserve it, you’re such a beauty. Anything could happen to a pretty girl out alone.”

  She was enjoying the crisp spring morning as they drove along the road through the trees with birds singing around them. “I’m not concerned about my safety, but I’m not sure how well you’ll be received in Chief Joseph’s camp.”

  He put his hand on the pistol again. “I am an officer in the United States Army, Miss Willow, and I’m not afraid of a handful of ragged Indians. Besides, I think their bravery and fighting prowess are vastly overrated.”

  “You didn’t see that one called Bear take on Deek Tanner.” In her mind, she imagined the callow youth challenging Bear. The big Nez Perce would shove that shiny pistol down Billy Warton’s throat.

  “I heard about that; but I’m sure the Indian’s part was exaggerated. Deek Tanner is considered dangerous and formidable.”

  “Maybe,” Willow said, “but Bear had Tanner begging for his life.”

  “You saw it? Well, anyone with a weapon could have—”

  “Lieutenant, the warrior didn’t have a weapon, he fought with his bare hands.”

  “You must have been terrified; too bad I wasn’t there to help you.”

  Had she been terrified? Not of the warrior. “What is Deek Tanner doing in this area and where’d he get that horrible scar?”

  Billy Warton shrugged. “He’s a scout for the army.”