“How is your shoulder?” he asked, as she stumbled past him and winced in the bright sun. All the men were in camp that day, and the women were tanning hides and curing meat. Their winter stores were almost complete.
“It’s fine,” she said, looking unconvinced. It still hurt, but she was too proud to admit that to him.
“Chapa’s a bad shot. He was trying to shoot a bird, and hit you instead.”
“No, he didn’t. He said you told him to stop me any way he could, so he did.”
“How many times are you going to do this, Wachiwi? This time you got hurt. You could fall off a horse trying to escape, and be killed.”
“Or be shot by one of your men,” she said bluntly. “I’d rather be dead than here.” It was the truth. She would never give up trying to go home until she was dead.
“Are you so unhappy here?” He looked sorry to hear it, and the truth was that he had been kind to her. He could have made her his own the first night, and she had been there for weeks now, but he wanted her to get used to him, before he made her his wife. She was no friendlier to him now than she had been in the beginning. He didn’t want to be rough with her, but she couldn’t keep running away forever. And sooner or later, someone would shoot her and kill her, or hurt her badly. He wanted to protect her from that. What had happened the day before was bad enough.
“You killed my brothers,” she said fiercely. And Ohitekah, but she didn’t say his name.
“It happens during raids and war parties.” He couldn’t change that, and he wanted her to be his. He wanted that very much. “Can we try and be friends?” He thought that if she could think of him as a friend, the rest would be easier after that, and she would accept him as her husband. She wasn’t the first woman to have been taken by a war party and given to a chief. Many of them became slaves. The other three women from her village had accepted it. Wachiwi had seen them with their braves and new families. They looked unhappy but knew they had no choice, and they were younger and more placid than Wachiwi. She had met them several times at the river, but the older women who treated them as slaves did not want them to talk to Wachiwi.
Napayshni wanted to give her more than the life of a slave or captive, and treat her as his wife. Wachiwi would have none of it. “You’re my enemy, not my friend.”
“I want you to be my wife,” he said softly. He was a great chief, humbling himself to a young girl, which was rare. In other tribes and circumstances, it would be an honor. But like the man who had offered her father a hundred horses for her and whom she refused, she didn’t want to be Napayshni’s wife. He had killed her brothers and the boy she loved, or his men had, which was enough. And they had taken her from her father. She would never forgive Napayshni for that.
“I will never be your wife,” Wachiwi said fiercely. “You will have to take me with a knife at my throat.”
“I won’t do that. I want you to come to me on your own.” She glared at him as he said it, but in spite of herself, something softened in her eyes. He was asking her, not telling her, or forcing her. That wasn’t entirely lost on her. Things could have been a lot worse. He was an honorable man, and treated her with respect, although she didn’t do the same to him. She had been harsh with him since they met. She didn’t want to be his wife or his slave, or his prize of war. “I won’t force you, Wachiwi. I don’t want to make you my wife that way. Go where you wish in the camp, do what you want. Be my wife when you are ready, and not before. But if you try to escape again, I will tie you up every day. You’re a free woman, within the camp. And when you wish it, you will be my wife, and never my slave.” He was not going to make another chief’s daughter his slave, and White Bear was an important chief. His daughter was worthy of respect. “Stay away from the horses,” he warned. “Other than that, you are free to go where you choose. On foot.” She didn’t answer him, and he walked away. What he was offering her was more than fair. But she wasn’t ready to make peace with him, and swore she never would. She was still planning to try to escape, every chance she got.
They were in their summer camp by then, and it was hot. They weren’t planning to move for several weeks. There was work to do on the game they had killed, the women were sewing, men were tanning and curing, furs were being prepared for trade. There were good grazing lands for the horses, and plenty of buffalo nearby if they wanted more. It was a relief not to have to move camp every few days, especially in the heat. And Wachiwi’s shoulder was healing by then. It didn’t hurt anymore. She was still waiting for an opportune moment to escape, but there was none now. There were too many people in camp all the time. She could never take one of the horses and ride away. She had no choice but to do what Napayshni had said, she could walk everywhere, but she couldn’t ride.
One day, she heard from some of the men that there was a lake nearby. It was a long walk, but she had nothing else to do. She had no children, no husband, and no official chores in camp. She was being treated like a guest, and Napayshni’s two wives did everything, even washed her clothes for her. Napayshni had ordered them to do so. And although they grumbled at first, they did as they were told, and treated her like another child. She had an easy life, except for the fact that she didn’t want to be there.
Napayshni was trying a new tack, as with a horse, to win her over. He was ignoring her entirely, and hoping she would come to him. It hadn’t borne fruit so far, but she looked less bellicose than she had before. As they stayed in the summer camp, Wachiwi seemed more at ease. She played with the children, and sat with the women sometimes for a few minutes. She did some of her beading, and repaired her torn dress yet again. She even taught two of the young girls how to dye porcupine quills like the ones on her dress. They found the right berries, and they got them the same striking blue and were thrilled. Napayshni was pleased to see her calming down, although he made no comment to her.
And on their second week at the summer camp, she decided to take a long walk, and discovered the lake she had heard about from listening to some of the men. There was no one there. She was all alone in the most beautiful spot she had ever seen. There was a waterfall high up on a hill, and down below, the peaceful lake. There were fish in it, and a little sandy beach. She looked around, saw no one, took off her moccasins and dress, and swam naked in the lake. Her brothers had taught her to swim like a fish.
It was the most perfect afternoon she could remember in years, surely since she had been here. She had hidden her clothes so no one could see them if any of the men came to the lake. But no one did. They were busy in camp and had work to do, and it was too far to walk for the women and children. She felt as though she were in a sacred place. She smiled broadly for the first time since she’d been taken captive, and she stayed all afternoon, lay in the sun, and swam again several times. She was singing to herself when she went back to camp. She had freedom now, because Napayshni knew she could not get far on foot. And they were too far from her own tribe for her to walk.
She looked happy and carefree and young, with her black hair loose down her back. Napayshni saw her walk into camp, and he said nothing, but his heart glowed when he saw the look on her face. She looked peaceful and happy and at ease.
He asked her what she had done that day, as they all ate dinner at their campfire. The new baby had grown strong and healthy since it was born, and his mother looked well. Both women were pregnant again, with babies that would come in the spring. The baby Napayshni wanted was Wachiwi’s, but he said nothing to her. He didn’t want to frighten her, particularly as it seemed as though she was finally settling in.
“I went to the lake today,” Wachiwi said quietly. She was less hostile to him now since he rarely spoke to her, but she still didn’t want to be his wife, or even his friend.
“On foot? That’s a great distance to walk.” He was impressed. He knew that some of the men had gone there on horseback at first, but didn’t have time these days.
“It’s a beautiful place,” she said, looking serene. He nodded, and tu
rned away from her again, pretending to ignore her. She was his beautiful wild horse. He hadn’t tamed her yet, but he knew now that he would one day. He could see it in her eyes. The time was coming, and all he wanted was for it to come soon.
Chapter 8
Wachiwi went to the lake every day. It was a long walk in the heat, but it was worth it—the time she spent there was idyllic, and totally peaceful. It reminded her of a lake where she had gone with her brothers. And one day, just to see if she still could, she reached down and caught a fish with her hands, laughed out loud, and then threw it back. She enjoyed the time she spent there by herself. And she was so certain that no one was there that she lay naked in the sun for hours, swam with no clothes on, and even picked berries and wandered around nude in the hot sun. She felt like a child. She felt totally safe here and alone. She wanted these days to last forever, but she knew that in a few weeks, they would break camp and start traveling toward their winter camp. It was then that she planned to try and make a run for it again, but for now, she had nothing to think of, worry about, or plan. And she looked happy and relaxed when she went back to camp every night.
She had turned totally brown, and she had worn a hole in her moccasins from the long walk daily to the lake in the morning and back to camp at dusk. She always got back just in time for dinner, and Napayshni loved what he saw in her eyes. She looked expansive and welcoming and warm, sometimes even to him, when she forgot to look indifferent or angry at him. What he saw when she was open to him warmed his heart, and seemed to be opening hers. It was his fondest hope that perhaps by the time they broke camp and moved on, she would finally be his. He had been patient with her, and it was starting to bear fruit. He could feel it, even in the way she spoke to him now, when she talked about swimming at the lake. He had thought of giving her one of the horses to get there more easily, but he didn’t want to tempt her to run away again. She still might. She wasn’t his yet. Once she was, and had his baby inside her, he knew she would never try to leave again. But now she still could. He had to make her his own first, and then he would be safe and Wachiwi would be his for the rest of his days. It was all he wanted now, and he thought of it every day as he worked.
Wachiwi was oblivious to his passion and deep feelings for her as she walked to the lake every day with a light step, anxious to get to her private place and spend the day there. She was lucky, she had been given no work to do at the camp, which was Napayshni’s gift to her. Instead she could play all day, swim at the lake, lie on the beach, and dream. She still dreamed of her family and her village and her father, but now she had other thoughts too, about the two women she lived with, their children, and Napayshni sometimes. She didn’t want to believe it, but she could see he was a decent man. He was good to his men, and his wives, gentle with his children, and kind to her. If he had been a Sioux and hadn’t killed her brothers and Ohitekah, she would have liked him and might even have agreed to be his wife. Now she never would. And soon, she would be gone. No matter how kind he was to her, she was more determined than ever to run away. She was biding her time until they broke camp, and enjoying her days at the lake.
She lay sleeping on the beach one particularly hot afternoon. She had tucked her dress and moccasins under a bush, and she had fallen into a deep sleep after swimming for a long time. The children had woken them in the heat the night before, and she was tired. She had been dreaming of her father, when she heard a sound. She thought it was a bird rustling in a bush nearby. She opened an eye, looked around, saw nothing, and then sat up on the warm sand, and as she did she saw something she had never seen before. It was a man in buckskin breeches and an open white shirt, with white skin and dark hair, and he stood staring at her with a mixture of disbelief and terror. He was too paralyzed to move, and so was she. She could hear his horse now, tethered nearby. She didn’t know who or what he was, having never seen a white man before, and as she looked at him, she instantly remembered something her father had said about white spirits who had come from far away. They had always sounded mysterious to her, but having never seen one, she had never thought about it again. And she knew instantly when she saw him that this was one. She didn’t know if he was an evil spirit or a good one, and she stood naked before him, afraid to move, not sure what he would do. And he looked as frightened as she was. He was not sure if there was a party of braves nearby who would come for her and find him. And as he gazed at the exquisite young girl, her nakedness seemed almost mystical. She was perfect in every way.
To reassure her, he held up both hands and made a sign of peace that she knew was either Iroquois or Huron, but she had seen it before. It wasn’t Sioux or Crow, but she understood.
In fact, it was Huron, which he learned as he traveled with that tribe for two years. He had come west on his own, traveling, exploring, making drawings when he saw something interesting. He had drawn some maps that he thought might be useful for others following the same path, but mostly he was just exploring the New World. The second son, and younger brother to a responsible, adoring older brother in France, he had no obligations at home, and had followed his dream to the New World. He had stayed in New Orleans briefly when he arrived five years before, and ever since, the virgin territories, the Indians, the sheer beauty of it all, had given him endless joy. And he had had no bad experiences so far, with the exception of a few close calls. He had once missed a Pawnee war party by a matter of hours, who had killed the people he had been staying with, and the burning of a fort and the massacre of its occupants, where he had been days before. Other than that, his time discovering the woods and Great Plains, forests, and rivers had been a time of great happiness for him. He had thought the area he was in completely unoccupied, and now this naked girl was rooted to the spot looking at him. He could see that she was Indian, but without clothes, he could not tell what tribe, or if they were warlike or peaceful. And whatever she was, the men of her tribe could not be far away and would not welcome his meeting one of their daughters or wives naked at a lake. They would kill him on the spot. He knew they were both in great danger standing there like this. He indicated his clothes and pointed to her. She nodded and ran into the bushes, and a moment later she emerged like a doe in her elkskin dress and moccasins. The oddest thing about her was that she didn’t look frightened by him, but more intrigued and somewhat puzzled, as though she had never seen a white man before. And now that she was dressed, he thought she was a Sioux of some kind, and of obviously high rank, because her dress was beaded and ornate. He suspected she might be a chief’s wife or daughter.
He made the sign of peace again and made no move to approach her. He wanted to ask her if she was alone, but didn’t know how. He looked around as though searching for someone and then quizzically back at her. She understood and shook her head, wondering if she should admit to him that she was alone. She had a small knife at her waist, but it was for cutting berries and vines. She had never used it on a man. She still didn’t know if he was a good spirit or a bad one, but he didn’t look menacing to her. In fact, he looked scared and surprised. So much so that she smiled. She said something to him in Sioux that he didn’t understand. She pointed in the direction of their camp and made a sign for tipis with her hands. He nodded, grateful for the information so he could stay away. And then wondering if he would stop her, she began to walk away. He didn’t move. He just watched her go.
Wachiwi reached the path she walked every day. She turned back several times, and he was still standing there. He hadn’t moved, and his eyes were rooted to her. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. And then quietly, he melted into the forest, untied his horse, and rode away. She turned one last time to see if he was still there, and he had disappeared. The first white spirit she had ever seen had evaporated. She wished there were someone she could ask about it, or tell them what she’d seen, but she didn’t dare. Something told her that she couldn’t.
She looked serious this time when she walked back into the village an hour later. Everyone w
as busy, and she joined the women outside her tipi, and began to play with the children. She held the baby, which she did sometimes, and made him cackle with laughter. She was laughing with him when Napayshni came home from tanning buffalo hides, and he thought he had never seen a happier sight than Wachiwi playing with his baby. He hoped that the next child she held in her arms would be her own, and his.
Wachiwi said nothing to anyone in camp about the man she had seen at the lake. She knew instinctively that it might put him, or even her, in danger. Perhaps someone would blame her for his presence. She looked for him again the next day, but he didn’t come. But the day after that, he came back. She was swimming when he showed up, and she had just popped her head out of the water when she saw him emerge from the woods and approach her. He was wearing the same buckskin breeches and tall black boots. His hair was long, as dark as hers, and pulled back. He made the odd sign of peace again, and came nearly to the water’s edge. He smiled at her, and his whole face lit up when he did. He had watched her for a while and saw that she was alone. She was so beautiful it took his breath away. He knew he was being both brave and foolish to come back, but he had been compelled to. He wanted to see her again, and discover more about her if he could. She was the only Indian woman he had ever been alone with. He had spent his five years in America discovering nature, finding himself, growing into manhood in the world he loved that was so different from his own. And now he was mesmerized by this woman who looked to him like an Indian goddess. He realized that her being at the lake alone wasn’t just a random occurrence, he had the feeling now that she came here often, maybe even every day. And all he knew once he had seen her was that he had to see her again. He would have liked to paint her portrait and capture the remarkable free spirit and grace he saw in her as she played in the water. And Wachiwi wondered how he knew the Huron signs but couldn’t ask him.
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