White Fire wanted to snap back at her and tell her how stupid she was being, for did she not know that he would just go and purchase Michael another pony?
Michael would be allowed to ride. To learn to shoot. To learn to hunt.
“Father, tell her that you are going to take my pony anyway,” Michael pleaded, grabbing his hand, and jerking on it.
“Let her have it,” White Fire said, sweeping Michael into his arms. He whispered into his ear. “Son, we will go where there are many horses to choose from. You will have your pick of them.”
“Where would that be?” Michael whispered back, his eyes wide.
“At the Chippewa Indian village,” White Fire said, stroking Michael’s back.
“At an Indian village?” Michael gasped, his eyes wide.
His father smiled and nodded.
Michael clung to his neck as White Fire carried him to his horse. He gave Maureen a cold stare. Then he placed Michael comfortably on his saddle and swung himself up behind him. He heard Maureen gasp.
White Fire glared at her. “My son will know the joy of riding horses,” he said calmly.
An arm around Michael’s waist, holding him securely in the saddle before him, White Fire wheeled his horse around and rode away.
He ignored the woman’s sobs behind him. Had she not been so stubborn by not allowing Michael to have his pony, White Fire would have offered her and her husband occasional visits with Michael, so that they would not be totally parted from the child they had grown to love.
His jaw tightened. He saw their sort of love as harmful to his son, for it was based on selfishness.
“Can I see Flame soon?” Michael asked, turning to gaze up at White Fire. “Daddy, I liked her a lot.”
So pleased that Michael remembered Flame, and with such fondness, White Fire smiled down at him. “You liked her, did you?” he asked, his eyes gleaming.
“Very much,” Michael said, nodding.
“And you want to see her very soon?”
“Yes, soon.”
“I think that can be arranged,” White Fire said, chuckling.
He sank his heels into the flanks of his horse and rode off in a hard gallop toward his home. He felt so content he thought he might burst from the feeling. He had everything.
And even more . . .
Chapter 38
Search I the shade to fly the pain.
—Thomas Lodge
As White Fire rode up to his cabin, he gazed in wonder at the door. He had expected Flame to open it as soon as she heard him approaching on his horse. By her not doing it, he wondered now if she had not been so excited after all about him getting his son. Perhaps, she didn’t like the idea of becoming an instant mother after all—not only to Michael, but also to Dancing Star.
Had his absence given her time to reconsider? Had she thought it over and decided that this was not what she wanted out of life after all?
Was her love for him not strong enough to give her the courage to step into motherhood so soon?
“This is your home?” Michael asked, turning to gaze up at his father.
White Fire glanced quickly down at him, wondering if Michael regretted returning to a very different life from the one he had grown used to the past three years. It was obvious that he had forgotten this home. But being only three, yes, it would be hard to remember it.
“This is our home,” White Fire said cautiously, watching his son’s expression, hoping to read in it his true feelings. “I built it, Michael, even before you were born.”
Michael turned slowly back to the cabin. “This is where my real mother lived,” he said, in almost a whisper. Then he turned quick eyes back up to White Fire. “Tell me again how she died?”
“In my absence, while I was being held hostage by the Sioux, your mother became weakened by pneumonia,” White Fire said softly, while looking at the cabin again. Flame had still not opened the door.
His heart sank to think that she had left him to raise the children alone, to be heartbroken by her decision not to marry him.
He turned slowly to the hitching rail. He felt instantly cold inside when he saw that her horse wasn’t there. That had to mean that she had left. He tried not to reveal his sudden despair and disappointment to his son.
“She then died from pneumonia?” Michael said, stammering clumsily over the word “pneumonia,” finding it difficult to pronounce.
“Yes, that is what claimed her life,” White Fire said.
His jaw tightened and anger flashed through him now, replacing his sadness over Flame. He had trusted her! How could she have disappointed him in such a way? How could she have lain there this morning with him in the bed and told him more than once that she loved him, and talked of being so excited about him going for Michael? And of marrying him today?
“Father, moments ago you looked sad,” Michael said, placing a gentle hand to White Fire’s cheek. “But now you suddenly look angry. Why were you sad? Was it because you were speaking of Mother? What has made you angry? Also speaking of her and how she died?”
Seeing that his son picked up on his feelings too easily, White Fire tried to force his emotions, all except for the happiness at having his son with him again, behind him. He had faced many disappointments in life and had conquered the demons that would try to defeat him at such times. He would conquer such demons again.
“Everything is fine,” he said, bringing Michael into his arms to hug him. “How could it not be? I have you with me again.”
“I love you, Daddy,” Michael murmured. “I’m glad to be with you again. I’m so glad you came and got me. Life with my adopted parents was nice, yet they did not allow me to act like a boy. I am so anxious for the pony you said you would get for me at the Chippewa village.”
Michael suddenly eased from White Fire’s arms and gazed with wonder into his eyes. “Daddy, if you were captured by Indians, how could you still be friends with Indians?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow. “You said that you would take me to an Indian village. That is where you plan to get my pony. How could you be friends with people like that, who took you away from Mommy and me?”
“As there are differences in white men, there are differences in men with skin the color of mine,” White Fire said. “The Sioux and the Chippewa are two different tribes of Indians. They have different beliefs and ways of doing things. I am friends with the Chippewa and enemies with the Sioux, for it was the Sioux who abducted me, not the Chippewa. The Chippewa befriended me long ago when I first came to the Minnesota Territory. In fact, Michael, I lived one entire year of my life with them.”
“Did Mother live with them with you?” Michael asked softly.
“No, that was before I met your mother,” White Fire said, then gazed at the door again.
Now all hopes of Flame being there had been shattered. In the time spent talking with Michael, Flame would have surely opened the door had she been there.
Again he stared at the empty hitching rail. He felt a spiraling of despair over not seeing her horse still there. Yes, she was gone.
Why?
He doubted that he would ever know.
“Let’s go inside, Michael,” White Fire said, forcing a smile as he leaned over and lowered Michael to the ground. He slid out of the saddle, then took Michael by a hand. “I’ve someone I’d like for you to meet.”
“Flame?” Michael said, smiling up at him as they walked toward the door.
His spine went stiff. “No, I don’t believe she is here after all,” he said sullenly.
“Where did she go?” Michael asked, his eyes innocently wide as he stared up at White Fire. “I thought she was waiting on us. Didn’t you tell me that she was here? That you were going to be married today?”
“Sometimes things change,” White Fire said, his jaw tight. “But there is someone waiting for us. It is someone who will be raised with you as your sister.”
“A sister?” Michael said, surprise leaping into his eyes.
White Fi
re stopped and knelt before Michael. “She has skin the coloring of mine,” he said softly. “She is Chippewa, Michael. Her mother died recently. Her mother was a friend. I have taken the child in, to raise as mine.”
“I will like having a sister,” Michael said, beaming. “Is she older or younger?”
“She is younger,” White Fire said, sighing deeply to know that Michael had such a giving heart. That he was willing to take Dancing Star into his life as quickly as his father had accepted her. “But she is old enough to enjoy things that you enjoy. She does not yet know how to ride a horse, though. Michael, will you help teach her?”
It was so hard talking calmly while his heart was aching over Flame’s absence.
“Yes, I will help teach her,” Michael said, smiling proudly. “Will she get a pony, also, from the Chippewa?” He spoke the word “Chippewa” awkwardly, finding it also hard to pronounce.
“Yes, she will also get a pony from my friends, her relatives, the Chippewa,” White Fire said, drawing Michael into his arms and hugging him. “Now let us go and tell Dancing Star to open the door. I am certain that when Flame left, she instructed the child to lock the door until we arrived. Everyone has to be careful in the wilderness. Doors must be locked at all times against intruders. Do you understand that if I am ever called away, that you will also make sure the door is locked?”
Michael nodded.
White Fire rose slowly to his feet and went to the door and knocked on it. “Dancing Star, it is I, White Fire,” he said, his eyebrows rising when she didn’t come immediately to the door and open it.
White Fire asked her three more times to open it, and fear began to ebb its way into his heart when she still didn’t come to the door.
“Where is she?” Michael asked softly.
“I am not certain,” White Fire said.
He hurried to the window and gazed through the pane. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Dancing Star sitting on the floor against the far wall, visibly shivering, her eyes wide with fear.
He knew then that something had happened while he had gone to get Michael.
It came suddenly to him that just perhaps Flame had not made her own decision to leave! Perhaps someone had come and forced her. Only that could explain the child’s obvious fear.
White Fire rapped his knuckles against the windowpane. “Dancing Star!” he shouted. “Open the door! You have nothing to fear! It is I! White Fire!”
Finally he saw her stir. Their eyes then met and held.
Then she leaped to her feet and ran to the door.
White Fire hurried to the door just as it was opened.
As he knelt down on one knee, Dancing Star flung herself into his arms. “A man came and took Flame away!” she cried, sobs wracking her body. “He forced her! He . . . half . . . choked her when she fought against him!”
White Fire’s heart sank at the thought of someone forcing Flame in such a way. Then guilt washed through him at the thought of his having so quickly doubted her.
He placed his fingers on Dancing Star’s shoulders and gently held her away from him so that their eyes could meet. “Dancing Star, did the man mention his name?” he asked slowly, trying to break through her fear to get answers from her. “Did Flame say his name as he took her away?”
“No, no name was said!” she cried. “It was a man wearing dirty clothes. He wore no shoes! His hair was black. His eyes were gray and cold!”
Disappointed that he couldn’t get a better description of Flame’s abductor, knowing that could fit any criminal in the area, White Fire sighed and looked away from the child.
Dancing Star flung herself into his arms again. “I was so afraid!” she cried. “But the man did not take me! He only wanted Flame!”
White Fire again held her away from him and gazed into her eyes. “When the man came to the cabin, did Flame seem to know him?” he asked slowly. “Or did he seem to be a stranger to her?”
“When she opened the door, she gasped and took quick steps away from him,” Dancing Star said, her sobs subsiding. “It was as though she knew him, yet the man tied something about her mouth too fast for her to be able to speak.”
Stunned, finding it hard to think of who might come with the sole purpose of taking Flame away, White Fire rose slowly to his feet.
Michael came to him and tugged on his arm.
White Fire gazed down at him and saw that he was staring at Dancing Star.
White Fire made quick introductions. Then before they turned to go inside the cabin, a soldier from Fort Snelling rode up.
Lieutenant Green dismounted and walked stiffly to White Fire. “I have come for two reasons,” he said. He took an envelope from the inner pocket of his blue uniform and handed it to White Fire. “A wire arrived at the fort today for you.”
Forking an eyebrow, White Fire took the envelope, then he nodded. “Yes, I am certain it is from my mother,” he said, recalling having sent her a letter not all that long ago. “Why else are you here?” he said, slowly taking the wire from the envelope.
“I have some disturbing news,” Lieutenant Green said, clasping his hands tightly behind him.
“What sort?” White Fire asked, gazing into the lieutenant’s eyes.
“Colonel Edwards sent word to us at Fort Snelling that Colonel Russell has escaped,” he said blandly. “Colonel Edwards says to tell you a search party did not find him.”
The blood rushed from White Fire’s face. “Colonel Russell escaped?” he gasped out. Like a blow to his gut, he now realized who might have abducted Flame. Her crazed father. The black hair. The gray eyes. The anger.
Yes, more than likely she had been abducted by her very own father!
“I was told that whoever left Colonel Russell after he took him food did not lock the cell well enough when he left,” Lieutenant Green said dryly. “Colonel Russell left the cell, knocked a guard in the head and killed him. I don’t know how he managed to get across the wide courtyard without being spied, but he did. He seems to have waited and hid behind supplies left just inside the fort walls. While Colonel Edwards’s men were busy taking in more supplies from St. Louis” Colonel Russell slipped away into the forest. He wasn’t missed until the next meal was taken to him. So he had a good head start before it was noticed he was gone.”
“And you say a search party has been sent out?”
“Sent out, and all but now given up.”
“Colonel Edwards gave up that easily on finding him?”
“He’ll show up in time. There aren’t many places a man can go, barefoot and dressed in prison clothes, without someone recognizing him as an escaped prisoner. Someone’ll turn him in.”
“In the meantime he is left free to wreak his havoc?” White Fire said, his voice rising in pitch as his anger toward Colonel Edwards grew.
“What can Russell do?” the lieutenant asked, idly scratching his brow. “He’s barefoot, penniless, and weaponless.”
“He stole his daughter, that’s what!” White Fire shouted, his face beet red from anger.
“He did what?” the soldier asked, paling.
White Fire set his jaw. “You go back to the fort and tell Colonel Edwards that he gave up his manhunt too soon,” he said. “You tell him that Flame—Reshelle—is out there somewhere in the wilderness at the mercy of her crazed father!”
“Yes, sir, I’ll go and tell him,” the lieutenant said, nervously shuffling his feet. “I’ll go and tell him right away, sir.”
“You just do that,” White Fire said, his eyes narrowing.
As the lieutenant rode off, White Fire’s thoughts scrambled as to how he could go about finding Flame, himself.
His gaze fell on the gray feather on the table.
“Chief Gray Feather,” he whispered, his eyes brightening. “Gray Feather’s warriors! They know the land! They are good at tracking!”
“Flame is gone?” Michael asked, tugging on his sleeve. “Her own father took her away, like you would have taken me away had my ad
opted parents not allowed you to have me?”
“Yes, her own father took her away, but not in the same way I would have taken you, had you not been given back to me when I asked for you,” White Fire said, stroking his fingers through his son’s thick, black hair. “This man, Flame’s father, is an evil man. Flame is not safe while with him. I must go and find her, Michael.”
Dancing Star took Michael’s hand. “We will help you,” she said, her eyes innocently wide. She looked at Michael. “Won’t we, Michael?”
“I am certain you would like to do that, but it would be too dangerous,” White Fire said solemnly. “I’ll take you to stay with the Chippewa while I go with many Chippewa warriors to search for her.”
He suddenly remembered the wire. He went into the cabin. The children came in behind him. He started to lay the wire aside, to read later, when he returned from his search for Flame.
But something told him to read it now. His mother sending her response to his letter with a quick wire, instead of a leisurely letter, told him that something must be wrong. Perhaps her new husband wasn’t treating her well. Perhaps she had seen someone else she desired more. He could hardly believe his mother’s fickleness.
Taking the wire from the envelope, he opened it and began reading. His eyes widened and his heart pounded like distant thunder the more he read.
He saw that his mother was fickle even as a younger woman.
The wire revealed to White Fire the truth of who his father truly was.
And he was not white.
All these years, when he had been taunted for being a ’breed, he was being wrongly labeled, for both his mother and father were Indian. One was Miami. The other was Chippewa.
“Chief Gray Feather?” he whispered, staring blankly at the truth as it lay there before him in black and white.
Chapter 39
Words from my eyes did start—
They spoke as chords do from the string.
—John Clare
White Fire Page 25
