Song of the Raven

by HELEN HARDT

  Ella kissed her father’s stubbled cheek. “Thank you, Papa. Thank you so very much.”

  * * *

  “A white man’s wedding?” Wandering Bear’s golden gaze rested on Raven’s face. His voice was deep as he spoke the Lakota words.

  “Yes,” Raven said, “and you must stand with me. Ella says we each need an attendant, and that it is customary for the man’s attendant to be the brother or the best friend. You, Bear, are both to me.”

  “I am honored, Raven. What of Ella? You have told me she has no brothers and sisters.”

  “She had a brother, but he is gone. She has no sister and no close friends since she left Minnesota, so she has asked our sister, Singing Dove, to stand with her.”

  “That is kind of her.”

  “Singing Dove is very excited. She is helping Ella dress for our white man’s wedding.”

  “Will she wear white man’s clothing?”

  “I do not know. According to Ella, I am not allowed to see her before the wedding. It is bad luck.”

  “That is ridiculous.”

  Raven laughed. “I agree. We have already mated. But she has agreed to live here with me and respect our ways. So I will respect hers.”

  Rays of sun shot into the tipi when Standing Elk entered.

  “Reverend Morgan and his wife are here. And Ella and Singing Dove are ready to proceed. Are you ready, my son?”

  Raven nodded. “I have never been more ready, Father. I wish to be mated to the woman I love in her way as well as ours.”

  Raven and Bear followed Standing Elk out of the tipi across the village to the camp circle, where the band held their ceremonies.

  “Ella said we must hold this ‘wedding’ in a sacred place,” Standing Elk said. “I told her we would go to her village, to her house of worship, but she was concerned for our safety.” Standing Elk let out a chuckle. “I told her we were capable of taking care of ourselves, but she insisted you be married here. There is no more sacred place than our circle.”

  Raven looked toward the circle as they approached. Ella’s father stood, looking sullen. Next to him was a lovely woman, an older version of Ella herself. Ella’s mother. But for a few strands of silver highlighting her sable hair, she would be Ella’s twin, right down to the violet eyes.

  He and Bear walked slowly, solemnly, respectfully, toward Ella’s parents. Robert Morgan’s amber gaze rested on him. His demeanor was more of resignation than of happiness. As they came closer, the amber eyes widened and darkened.

  Surprise?

  Surprise and anger?

  He pierced the gaze with his own, and it was then he realized Robert Morgan wasn’t staring at him.

  He was staring at Bear.

  “Those eyes.”

  Robert Morgan’s voice was soft and deep. The tone chilled Raven’s skin.

  “Of what do you speak, white man?” Bear turned away from his gaze. His discomfort trickled through Raven.

  “Those eyes. They’re the color of liquid gold. I only know of two others who had eyes like those.”

  “Who?” Raven asked, wondering why it mattered.

  “My father”—the older man’s eyes softened and he stared at Bear’s face with a look of longing—“and my son.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Raven steadied his breathing, forced his mouth closed when it wanted to drop open. He looked to Bear, who spoke no words as Ella’s father continued to gaze at him. “Naomi.”

  “Bobby”—the older woman touched her fingers to her lips—“it can’t be.”

  “This man is our son.” Ella’s father turned to Raven and Standing Elk. His handsome face burned red with anger. His amber eyes darkened and glowed.

  Raven blinked. For a moment, time turned backward, and he recalled finding Bear, soon after his first vision quest, standing in the face of an Indian boy who dared to say he wasn’t a true Lakota. The flesh on his face had burned scarlet and his eyes had darkened to an amber not unlike Robert Morgan’s.

  The man was tall and muscular like Bear. His hair was the same light brown of chestnuts.

  No. No, it cannot be.

  Robert Morgan’s hands curled into fists and he walked toward Standing Elk. His teeth clenched, his voice even lower, even icier, he said, “You stole my son, you heathen redskin.”

  Bear moved in front of Raven and Standing Elk. “You will not speak to my father in that manner. I assure you I am not your son, white man.”

  Raven fingered for his dagger at his side and then remembered Ella had asked him not to wear a weapon to their wedding. He inhaled, again forced to steady himself in the face of his pounding heart. What would he do, anyway? Threaten Ella’s father? Kill him? What would that do to his wife?

  Standing Elk, though wearing a dagger, did not reach for it. He faced Ella’s father, his black stare never wavering. “I stole nothing from you or any other white man.”

  “My brother wandered into our camp when he was a young boy,” Raven said. “My father took him in, adopted him as his son, and I as my brother.”

  “Raven.” Standing Elk’s voice was firm.

  Though he said no more, Raven ceased his explanation. He would let his father speak.

  The woman, Ella’s mother, walked toward Bear, tears glistening in her amethyst eyes. They were lighter than Ella’s, Raven noticed, lighter, like the hue of the violet right before it wilted and died.

  Her gaze traveled over Bear, from the top of his head to his moccasin-clad feet, and then returned to rest on his face. “Those eyes, they are David’s, and the nose, it’s mine. Mine and Ella’s. You are tall, like your father and mine. Dear God…” Her body trembled, and she fell backward into her husband’s arms. “David,” she said, and her eyes closed.

  “Where is Summer Breeze?” Standing Elk said in Lakota.

  “She is with Ella and Singing Dove,” Raven said.

  “Fetch her,” Standing Elk said to a young warrior standing nearby. He turned to Morgan. “Your wife has fainted. Summer Breeze will see to her needs. Then you will come to my tipi, and I will tell you about my son, Wandering Bear.”

  “I’ll stay with my wife,” Morgan said. “I can’t leave her.”

  Standing Bear gripped Morgan’s shoulder. Morgan tensed. Just a bit, but Raven noticed.

  “You forget, friend. I know how you love your wife. I was there the first time she was injured. When she lingered near death. Summer Breeze helped her then, and she will help her now. Trust me.”

  “Trust you? Are you serious? You stole my child! And now you’re taking the only one I have left. Do you have any idea what this has done to Naomi? To me? Losing David nearly killed us.”

  Standing Bear nodded. “I understand more than you know.”

  “Raven!”

  Raven turned at Ella’s voice. Ella, Singing Dove, and Summer Breeze came running.

  “What’s going on?” Ella gasped when her gaze landed on her mother. “Mama? Papa, what happened to Mama?”

  “Your mother only fainted, Ella,” Standing Elk said. Then, to Summer Breeze in Lakota, “We will take her to the healing tent, and you can see to her there.”

  Summer Breeze nodded.

  “Follow me, Robert Morgan.”

  Morgan lifted his wife into his arms as if she weighed no more than a feather.

  “Raven,” Standing Elk continued, “take Ella to my tipi. You go too, Bear. When I return with Morgan, we will speak.”

  Raven nodded and looked at his beautiful wife. She wore a buckskin dress and her lovely hair hung in two braids. She had dressed for him, for his people, even though the wedding was her tradition.

  At that moment, he had never loved her more.

  His heart raced. Who was Bear, really? Was he Ella’s brother? And if he was, what would that do to his marriage to Ella? He could share Bear with Ella. Indeed, he’d share all that he had, all that he was, with Ella. But what of Ella’s parents? Of Ella herself? What blame might she cast upon him for keeping her from her brother al
l these years? He shook his head. He’d make her understand, somehow. He had to.

  He smiled into her beautiful face—her eyes the color of violets at first bloom, her hair the hue of the soft dirt under his feet after a rain storm, her lips pretty and sweet as red currants.

  He would not give her up.

  * * *

  “He wandered into our camp one day, starved and beaten. We called him Wandering Bear.”

  Ella sat, mesmerized by the melodic, throaty sound of her father-in-law’s voice.

  “Though I knew he was old enough to speak, he did not. Not for several weeks. Summer Breeze and her mother, Laughing Sun, may she rest in peace, nursed him back to health.”

  Ella rested her gaze on Bear, the man who could be her brother by blood, and now by marriage. She had mistaken him for her father the night she’d nearly been raped. At the time, she’d blamed it on her muddled mind, but now, looking him over, the resemblance was uncanny. His height, his build, his hair and eye color. His facial characteristics—mostly her father, but her mother’s straight nose.

  Ella’s fingers wandered to her face and she traced the straight line of her own nose. So like her mother’s.

  So like Bear’s.

  “In time, he spoke to Raven,” Standing Bear said. “Raven had seen ten winters at the time, and I had begun to teach him the white man’s tongue. When he and Bear began to communicate, they spoke to each other in their own languages, and each learned the other. Summer Breeze and I were amazed at how quickly they learned. Bear told Raven he had seen five winters. That he had run away from his family one night in Indian territory looking for arrowheads. Some bad white men caught him.”

  “Dear God.”

  The pain in her father’s voice lanced through Ella. What must it be like to lose a child? To wonder where he was? Who he was with? She trembled and hoped she never knew the answer to those questions.

  “Dear God,” her father said again. “I hadn’t let him look for arrowheads. We had chores, and then we went to bed early that night because we needed to get an early start in the morning. Naomi was busy with Ella, and I”—he gulped—“was too busy to take my son to look for arrowheads.” He shook his head, his gaze resting on Bear, who had said nothing so far. “It can’t be.”

  “Do you believe Bear is your son, Robert Morgan?”

  Her father nodded. “I do.”

  Ella shuddered. Her father’s eyes, amber and sunken, held years of sorrow, years of regret.

  “Bear never told us his white man’s name.” Standing Elk cleared his throat. “Summer Breeze felt”—he hedged—“he had willed himself not to remember his former life. He had been badly mistreated by those who captured him.”

  “Thank God Naomi isn’t here to hear this,” her father said.

  Standing Elk turned to Bear. “Does this bring anything back to you? Do you remember your white man’s name?”

  Ella fidgeted, nervous, waiting for Bear’s deep voice, but he didn’t speak.

  Ella could remain silent no longer. She wasn’t one to sit idly by. She stood and went to the man who was her brother now, perhaps in more ways than one. She sat next to him.

  “I’m truly sorry, Bear, that we didn’t get to grow up together. But you are my brother. I feel it in my bones. She fingered a strand of his chestnut hair. “You look just like Papa. Tell me”—she took his hand—“tell me you feel it, too.”

  Bear grasped her hand. “I should have been there,” he said. “I should have been there to take care of you, little sister.”

  Ella flung her arms around his neck and hugged him. He stiffened, but within a few seconds, he softened and hugged her back.

  “I’m fine. Mama and Papa took care of me. And you were here, taking care of Singing Dove. You did your duties. You did them well, Bear.” She swallowed. “David.”

  “David,” he said. “David Robert Charles Morgan. That is my name.”

  Ella released her brother and looked to her father.

  His eyes softened. “David, for a man who was kind to me once when I was on my own as a youngun’. Robert for me, Charles for your mother’s father.” He turned to Standing Elk. “It seems I am in your debt once again.”

  “You owe me nothing, Robert Morgan. I love Bear as if he were my own. He filled a void for Summer Breeze and me.” Standing Elk’s voice cracked. “You see, I understand what it is to lose a child. Raven had twin brothers, born when he had seen five winters. When they had seen no more than four winters, they wandered away from camp, content in each other’s company, as twins are. We searched and searched, but we never saw them again.”

  Ella’s eyes stung with tears. So much loss. What could have happened to Raven’s brothers? She chilled to think about it.

  “A year later, when Bear wandered into our camp, he wandered into my heart as well. A few years later, the Great Spirit blessed us with Singing Dove, and our family was complete.”

  For several moments, no one spoke. Ella felt the ominous silence in the depths of her soul. So much pain. For her parents, for her in-laws. For Bear. For Raven’s little brothers, may they rest in peace.

  Finally her father spoke, his gaze resting on Bear. “Can you ever forgive me?”

  “For what?”

  “For not taking you to look for arrowheads that day. For making you go to bed.” He swiped at his forehead and raked his fingers through his chestnut hair sprinkled with silver. “I’m sorry.”

  “Forgive yourself,” Bear said. “You had my forgiveness a long time ago.”

  “You were happy here?”

  “Very happy. I will not leave here.”

  Her father nodded. “I won’t ask you to.” He turned to Standing Elk. “You told me once that there were good and bad Indians, just as there are good and bad white men. Indians raped my mother and then slaughtered her and my father. I was ten years old, and I saw the whole thing through a window.”

  Ella gasped. Her belly lurched. Vivid half-formed images scattered through her mind. She swallowed back the nausea in her throat. She knew so little about her father. He sat, his amber eyes sunken and wet. Her strong, handsome father, brought to his knees by these Indians—her new family.

  “But then you saved Naomi. I tried to change my thinkin’ about Indians, but when David was taken, and Indians had been in the area that night, I just assumed…”

  “You assumed Indians had taken him. And some Indians might have. Just like some white men might have. There are evil among all types of people, Robert Morgan.”

  “Yes, I know. I forgave the Indians. Truly I did. That’s why I became a preacher. But when I saw your son with Ella, and I thought I would lose another child to Indians… Well, it all came back to me. The slaughter of my parents, the loss of David.”

  “I understand.”

  “Yes, I think you do.” Again her father turned to Bear. “I hope you will let your mother and me be part of your life. You can come visit us anytime. And we will come to visit you and Ella here, if we are welcome.”

  “You are welcome,” Standing Elk said.

  Bear simply nodded.

  Tears stung Ella’s eyes, but she had heard enough about pain and loss for one day. She took her place at Raven’s side.

  “Papa. In light of these developments, I think maybe we should postpone the wedding for a few days.”

  Bobby nodded. “When your mama can travel, we’ll go back to the claim. This will be a lot for her to digest. We’ll come back day after tomorrow.”

  “That would be wonderful.”

  Raven nodded. “Yes, two days. And then Ella will be mine in our way and yours.”

  His arms wrapped around her and he gave her a searing kiss right in front of everyone.

  * * *

  “Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in the bonds of holy matrimony.”

  Her father’s deep voice resonated throughout the camp, and after Raven spoke his vows to Ella, she gazed into his black eyes, love coursing thr
ough her.

  “I, Ella Ruth Morgan, take thee, Silver Raven, as my lawful husband.”

  Her insides warmed as she spoke the words of love and devotion to her beautiful groom. Clad in buckskins, his bronze chest bare, his raven hair accented with white feathers, he was as noble and handsome as any man alive.

  “I now pronounce you man and wife.”

  Raven clasped her to him, and her breath caught at the hardness of his sculpted chest. She would never tire of looking at him.

  “We will celebrate the marriage of Raven and Ella with a feast,” Standing Elk announced.

  “And your mother and I have a wedding gift for you,” her father said. “I sent a young brave to retrieve it. It’s not much, but it’s all we have to give right now.”

  “A gift isn’t necessary, Papa. You’ve given us so much already.”

  “Nonsense. We need to give you something. Ah, here it comes.”

  Ella looked over her shoulder and her tummy tumbled. She rolled her eyes.

  “Oh, Raven,” she whispered to her husband. “It’s that dratted cow, Sukie.”

  The End

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