“You know why she died?” he said flatly. “How she died?”
She nodded. “Yes, I know both things,” she said, swallowing hard. She had a desperate need to flee, for she knew not what to expect next from this powerful Chippewa chief. If he was toying with her . . .
“Then you know why my grandchild is here,” Gray Feather said, giving Dancing Star a soft glance.
“No, not really,” Flame said, scarcely breathing as Gray Feather went and leaned over and swept Dancing Star into his arms.
When the child awakened and smiled up at him, Flame saw the affection, the undying love each had for the other.
This made it hard for her to understand why the chief would be compelled to give her up so easily to be raised by someone not of their village. Not of their blood.
“Why is this child now White Fire’s responsibility?” she blurted out.
“Because my daughter took her own life,” Gray Feather said, his voice breaking. “She died in sin. My granddaughter is a part of that sin. And because White Fire is the cause of my daughter’s death, he must now assume responsibility of my daughter’s child.”
Trying so hard to understand everything, Flame’s head was spinning.
And she knew that the longer they stood there discussing things other than White Fire’s release, the chances grew slimmer that he would be alive.
“You are White Fire’s chosen woman,” Gray Feather said. He took the child over and held her out to Flame. “That makes my grandchild also your responsibility. She will be raised as your daughter.”
Stunned speechless by what he was saying, and by his reasoning, Flame stood there fore a moment staring at Dancing Star. Then when she saw that Chief Gray Feather was serious, she saw no other choice but to take the child.
When Dancing Star moved easily, trustingly into her arms, Flame’s heart went out to her. Her heart was melted by the child’s sweet smile and by how she snuggled into her arms, as though she belonged there.
“Now tell me everything about White Fire,” Gray Feather said, taking Flame by an elbow, and leading her to the blankets spread on the floor before the fireplace. “I see that you need rest before we leave again to do what must be done for him. While taking the time to rest, tell me everything.”
So glad to be off her feet, and still holding Dancing Star in her arms, Flame blurted out the story of when she and White Fire were surrounded by the soldiers.
“You are going to help him, aren’t you?” Flame questioned, when she saw that hearing everything had caused the old chief to go quiet, his eyes now watching the dancing flames of the fire.
When he still said nothing, fear began to flow into Flame’s heart that he might have decided against putting his people in danger by helping one man escape from Fort Snelling. Was he thinking that White Fire was not worth the chance it would take to get him from the soldiers? Did he see that a war between his people and the soldiers might be started?
“If we can’t get White Fire free without a fight, there might be a war between your people and the soldiers,” Flame blurted out. “I know this and I hate to think it might happen. But we must chance anything and everything to set White Fire free. He doesn’t deserve to be deserted in such a way. He doesn’t deserve to die.”
Still Gray Feather said nothing.
Anger—a bitter rage—entered Flame’s heart to think that this chief was going to ignore everything that she had said, and abandon a man who was the epitome of kindness.
“Do you now hate White Fire so much that you would allow him to die needlessly?” she said, her voice drawn. “Because of your daughter, will you allow him to die?”
She picked Dancing Star up and held her out for the chief. “Here,” she said, her voice breaking, “she belongs with you. Not with me. Without White Fire, the child—”
Chief Gray Feather looked quickly over at Flame. “Keep the child,” he said, his voice a low grumble. His eyes were flashing angrily. “She is yours and White Fire’s, forevermore.”
More confused by the comment, Flame’s eyes wavered. “But if you do nothing to help him, how can the child be his?” she murmured.
“Did I say that I would do nothing to help him?” the chief growled out.
“No, but you haven’t said you would help him, either,” Flame said, sighing. “Which is it, Chief? Are you going to help me get him free? Or not?”
“Are you rested enough now so that you can ride with me to my village to get my warriors?” Chief Gray Feather said, placing a gentle hand on Flame’s shoulder. “Are you strong and brave enough to join the fight to set White Fire free?”
“I am both of those things,” Flame said, boldly lifting her chin. Then her eyes wavered again. “But I don’t think your warriors will want me riding with them. While at your village, I was made to feel very unwelcome. I was told that I was, in part, responsible for your daughter’s death. I was told never to enter your village again.”
“Whoever told you that spoke out of turn,” Gray Feather said, rising to his feet. He held out a hand for Flame. “Mah-bee-szhon, come.”
“But, Chief Gray Feather, I was told not to enter your village again,” Flame said, holding the child as she moved slowly to her feet.
“I, alone, am my people’s voice,” Gray Feather said, folding his arms across his bare chest. “Only I say who can and cannot come and go from my village. I tell you now, white woman with flame of hair, you are always welcome at my village, for you are White Fire’s choice, and he is like a son to me. When you become his wife, you will become a daughter to this old chief.”
“Yet you give up your granddaughter so easily?” Flame asked, stroking her fingers through the child’s long, black hair.
“She is not being given up,” Gray Feather said, placing a gentle hand to the child’s cheek. “Will she not be still my granddaughter when she lives with you and White Fire?”
“Yes, she will always be your granddaughter,” Flame said, cuddling Dancing Star closer. “And I will love her as though she were my very own child.”
Then Flame’s eyes widened. “What are we to do with her while we go to the village for your warriors?” she blurted out.
Gray Feather took Dancing Star from Flame. He held her and spoke into her face. “Granddaughter, you must stay here in this cabin while your grandfather and Flame leave for a while,” he said thickly. “You can reach the bolt lock at the door. After we leave, lock it. Let no one but us or White Fire back inside the cabin. Do you understand?”
Eyes wide and devoid of fear, Dancing Star nodded.
“After you lock the door, sit in this chair close to the fire and we will return as soon as we can,” Gray Feather said, placing Dancing Star in an oak rocking chair. He glanced over at a large bowl of fruit on the kitchen table. “Leave the chair only long enough to lock the door and to get fruit when your belly tells you that you are hungry. There is a pitcher of water on the table. That will quench your thirst.”
Seeing the fruit made Flame remember her own hunger. She hurried to the table and picked up two apples. She thrust one in each of her skirt pockets. Then she went and kneeled on one knee before Dancing Star. “We will be bringing White Fire home to you soon,” she murmured. “He will be so glad to see you here, waiting for him.”
Dancing Star smiled, then clutched the wooden horse in her hand. “My friend and I will wait,” she said softly.
Flame leaned closer and gave Dancing Star a deep hug. Then she rose quickly, turned, and ran to the door with Gray Feather.
Seeing how soon darkness would be falling over the cabin like a shroud, Flame took the time to light one kerosene lamp. Then she ran outside and mounted her horse and waited for Gray Feather.
“Dancing Star, come now to the door,” Gray Feather said, beckoning with a hand toward the child. “Lift the bolt. Slide it in place after I close the door. You will be safe until we return.”
Dancing Star placed Michael’s wooden horse on the chair, then slid from it, and went a
nd stood looking trustingly up at her grandfather. When she was left alone and the door was closed, she slid the bolt lock in place.
She ran to the window and stood on tiptoe. The sky darkening, Dancing Star squinted her eyes as she watched Flame and Gray Feather ride into the dark shadows of the forest.
After they were fully out of sight, Dancing Star went and stood on tiptoe and grabbed a banana from the bowl of fruit. Then she ran back to the rocker and climbed on it.
After the small wooden horse was on her lap, and the banana was peeled, Dancing Star began slowly rocking back and forth as she nibbled at the banana and stared into the hypnotic flames of the fire.
Slowly her eyelids became heavier and heavier.
Soon she was fast asleep again, the banana peel on the floor beside the rocker, Michael’s horse snuggled against her.
Chapter 34
Cry! Speak once more—thou lovest!
—Elizabeth Barrett Browning
White Fire dozed off and on again, his head bobbing as he would awaken for a short while. Then he would drift off asleep again. When he was awake, he found it hard to concentrate. Without having eaten for so long, and still not having been given even water, he felt dehydrated and weak, so weak that he could no longer successfully fight to stay awake.
Voices now awakened him. Slowly he opened his eyes.
When he saw lamplight approaching, he tensed, for except when Colonel Russell had brought Flame to see him, this was the first time anyone had come into his cell after he had been left there, surely to die.
“Because of you she is now dead!” Colonel Russell shouted as he stepped up to the bars and glared at White Fire.
“Who . . . is . . . dead?” White Fire asked, his thick, dry tongue sticking first to the roof of his mouth, and then to his parched lips. He tried to make out the colonel’s face, but all that he could see in the lamplight was a blur.
“Who do you think I would be talking about?” Colonel Russell shouted, banging a fist against one of the bars. “Reshelle, by damn! Reshelle!”
“Reshelle?” White Fire said, finding it hard to concentrate, to make sense of anything the colonel was saying.
“Flame, you idiot!” Colonel Russell shouted. “Flame is missing! Because of you, I’m sure she is dead!”
Cold fear splashed inside White Fire’s heart as he comprehended what the colonel was saying. “What . . . happened . . . to Flame?” he gasped out. “Where is she?”
“While traveling on the riverboat, she leaped overboard,” Colonel Russell cried. “That’s the only logical thing that could have happened to her. Every inch of the boat was searched when she came up missing. She wasn’t there! Lord a’mighty, she is surely sucked to the very bottom of the river. I’ll never see her again!”
A remorse overwhelmed White Fire, so keen that he cried out as though someone had stabbed him in the heart. “No!” he cried. “No! Not Flame!”
“You are going to die for this,” Colonel Russell hissed out. “I was contemplating freeing you and having you escorted far from the Minnesota Territory. But now? By God, at sunup you will be standing before a firing squad. I will laugh as I watch bullets riddle your copper body. You damn, worthless ’breed.”
White Fire’s insides turned cold to realize that he had not only lost Flame, but that, he, too, would soon join her in death.
But perhaps that was the only place they could ever be together peacefully, he thought—walking hand in hand on the road of the hereafter....
Chapter 35
That I, in whom the sweet time wrought,
Lay stretch’d within a lonely glade,
Abandon’d to delicious thoughts,
Beneath the softly twinkling shade.
—Coventry Patmore
As she wheeled her horse to a shimmying halt, Flame could hardly believe her eyes as she stared at Fort Snelling. There was a solid wall of soldiers standing guard on all sides, except for the one wall that was part of the rocky cliff.
Flame gazed with a building anger at the tall, closed gate. She could see soldiers standing guard on the walkway atop it, the moon reflected on their rifle barrels.
“He’s more demonic than I could ever have imagined him to be,” Flame whispered to herself. A shudder ran through her whole body as she thought of what her father was doing to keep anyone from saving White Fire from certain death.
“I have never seen the fort protected in such a way,” Chief Gray Feather said, sidling his horse closer to Flame’s. He glanced over his shoulder at his warriors, prepared to attack the fort at his command.
Then Gray Feather gazed at Flame. “We do not have enough men to go against such odds as these,” he said sullenly. “There can be nothing done in secret with so many eyes watching.”
“Yes, I know,” Flame said, her hope to save White Fire all but gone.
“There is one more thing I can do,” Gray Feather said, glaring at the fort. “I can send warriors to all the neighboring bands of Chippewa. We will ask for their assistance.”
“There isn’t enough time for that,” Flame said, frustratedly raking her fingers through her thick, red hair. Her eyes wavered as she gazed into the old chief’s eyes. “And, anyway, no other band of Chippewa would risk what you are willing to risk to save White Fire.” She swallowed hard. “And he would never approve,” she murmured. “He would rather die than bring your people into war against the soldiers.”
She sighed deeply, so bone weary, so sad, she found each moment now a struggle to stay atop the horse, to even stay awake. Yet she could not give in to her weariness. She had to think of some way to get past the soldiers.
Of course, all that she herself had to do to get past them, was to ride up and announce that she was returning to her father.
But she, alone, was not enough to stop what her father planned for White Fire. Her presence there might even hasten his death.
No, there had to be another way.
“I should have gone to Fort Parker,” she said, swallowing hard. “By now they could have arrived and . . . and—”
The sound of horses arriving somewhere close by made her words fall silent on her lips and her eyes widen as she searched through the darkness for whoever was approaching. The hour was late. She knew enough from her years of living the military life that no one came in the middle of the night unless it was an emergency. Late visitors threw soldiers out of their beds, their firearms quickly readied for whoever was coming, unannounced.
“We’d best take quick cover,” Flame said, giving Gray Feather a frightened glance.
Her thoughts went to the Sioux Indians. What if they had decided upon an uprising? They were not as peaceful as the Chippewa.
And the Sioux had been forced from this part of the country too often—if not by the Chippewa, then by the white soldiers. They carried much hate inside their hearts for both their white-skinned enemies, and red.
Chief Gray Feather raised his rifle over his head and made a quiet motion with it for the men to retreat into the cover of the forest.
Flame followed them. Then she stopped suddenly when she caught sight of just who was arriving. She recognized Colonel Edwards. He was leading a contingent of cavalry directly toward the fort.
She wheeled her horse around and watched as those at the fort saw the approach of the soldiers on horseback. She held her breath as she waited for Fort Snelling’s soldiers’ reactions.
But she was not close enough to hear what was being said when voices lifted in the air from the fort as Colonel Edwards stopped and conversed with the Fort Snelling soldiers.
Frustrated, Flame could not just stay back and not know what was going on between the two factions of soldiers. She had to know exactly why the colonel was there. At all cost, even at the chance of being shot as she rode free of the trees, she had to seek Colonel Edwards’s help.
And she must do it before he got inside the walls of the fort. He must know that an innocent man was held prisoner there, soon wrongly to die.
But surely not. Not this time of night. It had to be something else.
She gave Chief Gray Feather a quick look. “I must go and speak to Colonel Edwards,” she cried, “before he gets inside the fort.”
“I shall go with you,” Gray Feather said, his jaw tight.
“No, it would be best if I go alone,” Flame said. “IF the guards see me riding with an Indian, they might not stop to ask why. We might both be targets for their itchy trigger fingers!”
“But you will be so vulnerable alone,” Gray Feather argued.
“Thank you for caring,” Flame said, touched deeply by his concern for her—a white woman—a woman he still, in part, blamed for his daughter’s death.
She gave him a last, lingering look, then sank her heels into the flanks of her horse and rode off in a hard gallop toward the soldiers, who were just drawing a tight rein behind Colonel Edwards. Colonel Edwards was still speaking to those guarding the gate of the fort.
“Colonel Edwards!” Flame shouted as she rode toward the soldiers.
She was aware of a quick silence and saw the soldiers spin their horses around to look at her. The soldiers at the fort gawked, slack-jawed at her, their colonel’s daughter coming in out of hiding.
Colonel Edwards, in his full military attire, the brass buttons of his blue uniform shining in the moonlight, rode toward Flame as his soldiers parted and made way for him.
Panting, her face flushed, Flame tightened her rein and drew her horse to a stop as the colonel stopped beside her.
“Reshelle Russell?” the colonel asked, leaning to take a closer look at her, the moon bathing her face with its sheen of white. “What are you doing out here alone this time of night?” His gaze swept over her and saw her disarray. “Lord, girl, what happened to you?” he said, his eyebrows arching. “Does your father know—?”
She interrupted him. “Colonel Edwards,” she blurted out, “thank God you are here. I only hope you are in time.”
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