White Fire’s jaw tightened. “All my life I was taunted as a ’breed, while all along I did not deserve such a degrading title!” he said, his teeth clenched. “I was Indian, through and through!”
He clasped his hands to his father’s shoulders. “Father, I am proud to say that I am part Miami, and part Chippewa. I am proud to be your son.”
Gray Feather slid White Fire’s hands from his shoulders. He then embraced him long and hard. “My ningwis, son,” he said, a sob lodging in his throat.
Then he held White Fire away from him and grinned widely. “And that means that I also have a go-shee-shay, grandson!” he said, his voice lifting in pitch in his excitement. “Your son, Michael, is my grandson.”
White’ Fire returned his broad grin. “Ay-uh, that is so,” he said, chuckling. “Today your family has grown in leaps and bounds.”
“My heart is filled with so much joy I cannot even express it. It runs so deep and wonderful inside me,” Gray Feather said, wiping tears from his eyes.
“I have talked of Mother to you today and shown less than respect for her in my explanations of her, but I can say that I am thankful that she finally found the courage to be truthful with me about my birthright,” White Fire said, swallowing hard.
“What prompted her to tell you now, when in the past she has kept it all locked up inside her heart?” Gray Feather asked, forking an eyebrow.
“You or I may have never known the truth except for the panic that my mother must have felt upon reading my last letter to her,” White Fire said. “In my letter I spoke of you and your daughter’s interest in me. Fearing that I might marry your daughter, who was, in truth, my very own sister, my mother had no choice but to open up truths to her son that she wished never to tell anyone. She could not allow my marriage to my very own sister.”
White Fire’s heart skipped a beat. “My sister,” he said, his voice breaking. “I had a sister and did not even know it. Things could have been so different. Had I but known that Song Sparrow was my sister, she would have never foolishly fallen in love with me. She would have never had cause to take her—”
Suddenly Gray Feather slid a hand over White Fire’s mouth, silencing him. “Do not say the words that are a torment to us both,” he said thickly. “Let us put it behind us, for nothing will change it. The past is the past. Let it rest there.”
“Ay-uh, let it rest there,” White Fire said. He sighed heavily. “The future, Father, is so bright for us all. It is a future we shall now share as father and son!”
As Flame lifted the entrance flap and she saw Chief Gray Feather and White Fire embrace, she stifled a sob of happiness behind a hand, for the sight was such a beautiful one to witness!
“Grandfather!” Dancing Star cried as she ran on past Flame. “You are as happy to see White Fire as I am.”
Michael ran after Dancing Star and sat down beside his father and Gray Feather.
Gray Feather turned to Michael seeing him for the first time as his grandson. His hand trembled as he reached over and placed it on Michael’s face and slowly moved his fingers over his features.
“My grandson,” he said, his voice filled with pride. He then looked over at White Fire. “My son,” he said, his eyes filling with joyful tears.
Chapter 44
Thou art my own, my darling, and my wife;
And when we pass into another life,
Still thou art mine.
All this which now we see
Is but the childhood of Eternity.
—Arthur Joseph Mundby
Three years later—
Father Sun was at the centermost part of the sky, sending his rays down upon a great celebration that was in progress.
The Chippewa women had been cooking for days for the feast that was now spread out on platforms. Dancers dressed in fancy attire swayed in rhythm around a huge, outdoor fire as the drums beat their cadence.
Dressed in a buckskin dress and moccasins, and with flowers woven into the strands of her hair, Flame sat on a pelt-strewn platform with her husband. She was proud to be a part of the celebration of the Chippewas’ lives.
Especially today she was exceedingly proud, for Michael was being adopted into the tribe, as one with them.
Today’s celebration was just a small part of Michael’s initiation ceremony. He had even chosen a name by which he would be called from this day forward-Black Shield. The name had been chosen for the black shield that his Chippewa grandfather had given to him early this morning, just prior to the start of the day’s celebration.
White Fire sat beside her on the platform. His chieftain father was on a platform next to them. Flame gazed at her husband. The past three years had been magical. Being White Fire’s wife was something she would have never imagined.
Not even when she was ten and she had fantasized about being with him. Her fantasies had been the best a girl could conjure, but were never as wonderful as it was in real life. Now, as his wife, she awakened every morning in his arms. As his wife, she went to sleep every night being held by him after they shared such sweet lovemaking.
They never raised their voices to one another, nor did they to their three children.
The thought of the children made a sweet peace swim through Flame’s consciousness. She turned her gaze and watched her youngest at play, as Dancing Star watched over her, the doting sister.
Yes, Zoe, born of Flame and White Fire’s love, was now two and as feisty and pretty as she could be with her black, raven-colored hair, green eyes, and her smooth copper skin. Flame knew that when her daughter grew up into a woman there would be men clamoring for her attention.
She looked again at Dancing Star. She also was an eye-catcher with her features so much like her mother’s, which were nothing less than vivacious. Yes, Flame and White Fire would have a fight on their hands when both their daughters grew into women and men began noticing them.
Flame’s gaze shifted again.
Ah, yes, there was Michael, who was still only a child, but who had adapted well to living among the Chippewa, in the Chippewa tradition, for it was his father’s.
And it was good that Michael would be living under the protection of the Indians. If he still lived among the whites, all of the white boys would call him a ’breed. He would have to suffer the same insults his father had when he had lived among whites. He would be tormented by those who knew no better than to behave as their parents, who were for the most part prejudiced against anything and everything Indian.
The drumming suddenly ceased. Chief Gray Feather rose from his platform and went and stood in the midst of his people, who circled around him, watching him, their pride for him in their eyes and smiles.
“Today we have come together as one heart and soul to celebrate my grandson’s initiation into our tribe, required because, in part, he is white, born of a white mother,” Gray Feather said, the many colorful feathers of his headdress fluttering in the gentle breeze. His bare, copper chest shone from a fresh bear greasing. His fading brown eyes danced, his pride revealed to everyone in his gentle smile.
He looked over at Michael, who was dressed in only a breechcloth. “Grandson, come to me,” he said, gesturing with a hand toward him. “Come and stand with your grandfather so that everyone can see you. My grandson, Black Shield, today you make this old grandfather so proud.”
Barefoot, his glistening black hair now worn to his waist and drawn back from his brow by a colorful, beaded headband, Black Shield walked proudly to his grandfather and stood at his side. He smiled broadly at his father, and then at Flame, whom he saw now as his mother.
Then he laughed softly when someone suddenly came to him and held her arms up, silently begging to be held. “Sweet Zoe,” Black Shield whispered, grabbing her up into his arms. She snuggled against his bare chest, laying her cheek against it.
Flame gave White Fire a quick, questioning look, wondering what should be done about Zoe.
“I am certain that her sister will get her when
it is time for our son to go to the river,” White Fire whispered, reaching over and giving Flame’s hand a soft squeeze. “Is not it a beautiful sight to see Zoe caring so much for her older brother?”
“She is like an angel fallen from the heavens into our son’s arms,” Flame whispered back.
They grew quiet and listened as Gray Feather gave a long speech about his feelings for Black Shield, and then his son, White Fire.
His old eyes then turned to Flame, whom he spoke of as though she were his daughter, born of his flesh.
Tears spilled from Flame’s eyes to feel this loved, to feel so at peace with her life with these wonderful people. She wished that everyone could trade places with her for only one day so that they could see how wrong they were about the Chippewa—about all Indians, in general.
In truth, they were filled with more love and understanding than most whites that Flame had known while living in the white world. The Chippewa were as one with nature and their Great Spirit. They were a spiritual people who sought only to live in peace and harmony with everyone.
Gray Feather turned to Black Shield and clamped his fingers on his shoulders. “It is time now for you to go to the river,” he said thickly. “There we will finalize the ceremony. You will then be Chippewa through and through.”
Without having to be told, Dancing Star went and took Zoe from Black Shield’s arms. And before turning to leave him, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek.
Black Shield watched his cousin walk away, having found such a good friend in her. They were almost inseparable. He knew that he would protect her with his life.
“Come,” Gray Feather said, placing a gentle hand on Black Shield’s elbow.
Black Shield gave his mother and father a wide grin as they stepped down from their platform and followed closely behind him and his grandfather. Then he smiled again at Dancing Star as she walked beside Flame, Zoe still nestled comfortably in her arms, and clinging around her neck.
The whole village went and stood along the riverbank. Everyone was quiet as the true initiation began.
Flame had taught Black Shield how to swim, and he was not afraid to plunge up to his waist in the river. He stopped and turned to face the witnesses to his change into a Chippewa.
Then three young maidens came to him in the water. He knew that it was a part of the ritual when they began scrubbing him briskly with bars of soap. He had been told that this was required, that by this ritual, every drop of his white blood would be washed out of him . . . that then he would be Chippewa forever and ever.
When the maidens left the river, Chief Gray Feather entered the water and went and stood before Black Shield. He lifted a hand and held it over Black Shield’s head as he spoke in a soft, but carrying voice for all to hear.
“Grandson, you are adopted into a great family of people,” Gray Feather said, gazing intently into Black Shield’s eyes. “By the power given to me as chief of our band of Chippewa I say to you, grandson, that you are now one of us by an old, strong law and custom.”
Loud shouts rose into the air. Women began to sing. Again the drums began to play as Black Shield gave his grandfather a large, warm hug.
They then waded out of the water.
One by one the people came and hugged Black Shield.
And after receiving his congratulations from everyone but his family, Black Shield broke free of the crowd and went to his father. Their eyes locked for a moment. Then Black Shield hugged White Fire, and then Flame.
“Son, I am so very proud of you,” White Fire said as Black Shield stepped away from him, his eyes filled with the excitement of the moment.
“So am I,” Flame said, flicking tears from her eyes. “So very, very proud.”
She gave White Fire a quick, mischievous smile, then took Black Shield by the hand. “Come with me,” she said, her eyes dancing. “We have a special surprise for you, Michael—I mean, Black Shield. It is a gift of congratulations for being initiated into the Chippewa tribe.”
“What is it?” Black Shield asked, then gasped when Red Buffalo suddenly appeared from behind a wigwam, leading a horse toward him by the reins.
Black Shield let out a loud yelp of glee as he ran and took the reins. He gazed with wide eyes at the horse as he ran a hand along its withers. “Mine?” he said, giving White Fire and Flame a look over his shoulder as they stood, watching.
“Yours, all yours,” Flame said, twining her fingers through White Fire’s.
Black Shield ran to them and embraced them. “Thank you,” he said, swallowing hard. “Thank you!”
Black Shield then turned and smiled at Dancing Star. Zoe asleep in her arms, Dancing Star was now standing before Black Shield, her eyes filled with her own excitement for him.
“Take me for a ride, Black Shield?” Dancing Star asked, taking Zoe and sliding her into Flame’s arms.
“Ay-uh, let’s take a ride!” Black Shield said. He grabbed Dancing Star by a hand and led her to the horse.
White Fire went and lifted her onto the horse’s bare back, and then helped his son up behind her. “Be careful,” he said, then wished he hadn’t when Black Shield looked embarrassed by the reminder. “Have fun,” he hurriedly interjected. Then he stepped back to Flame’s side. Together they watched Dancing Star and Black Shield ride off, giggling.
Flame then gazed down at Zoe, smiling to see that none of the excitement about the gift had awakened her.
Flame then smiled up at White Fire. “I’m going to take Zoe to bed,” she murmured. “I think she’s had enough excitement for one day.”
“I shall go with you,” he said. He slid an arm around Flame’s waist and led her through the crowd of people who were readying themselves for many more hours of dancing and eating. The celebration was planned to go into the wee hours of morning.
Flame stepped inside her cabin and walked softly across braided rugs until she came to Zoe’s bedroom.
After she placed Zoe in her bed, White Fire drew a soft patchwork quilt up to their daughter’s chin.
They stood for a moment watching their daughter sleep. Then White Fire surprised Flame by hoisting her into his arms and carrying her to their own bedroom.
“My darling, are we going to have our own private celebration?” she murmured and giggled as he placed her on their bed.
“We will not be missed,” White Fire said. “But perhaps I should still close the door to secure privacy.”
After he closed the bedroom door, he stood beside the bed and removed his clothes.
Nude, his copper body gleaming in the soft splash of the sun’s rays as it bled though the windowpane and sheer curtains at the sides of the bed, he reached a hand out for Flame.
“Come to me,” he said huskily. “Let me undress you.”
Flame rose from the bed. Her pulse raced as he removed her soft, buckskin dress, that was beautifully decorated with beads that she had sewn on herself.
When she was finally undressed and his eyes slowly drank in her nakedness, she could hardly stand the waiting. Her desire for him was no less now than the first time they had made love. In fact, it grew with each day, with each kiss, with each embrace.
She felt, ah, so blessed, to be married to such a wonderful, caring man. They had lived in the Chippewa village since the very first day of their marriage.
Although Flame had told him that she would make do in a wigwam, he had still wanted to make things as easy on her as possible since she had known only rich comforts while growing up.
Soon White Fire had built her a large, comfortable cabin with a bedroom for each of their children, and for themselves.
The kitchen was well designed for her use, and their parlor was filled with plush furniture that he had shipped in from St. Louis.
“My woman,” White Fire said huskily, taking her hands, and yanking her against his hard, ready body.
His lips came down on hers in a hot, lingering kiss. His hands went to her buttocks. He clasped his fingers into her soft fl
esh and drew her closer to his heat, to his building need of her.
Delicious shivers of desire floated across Flame’s flesh as he ground his hardness against her body. She slid her mouth away from his lips. “I need you,” she whispered, her face aflame with her building need. “Now, White Fire. Oh, darling, now.”
He lifted her into his arms, lying her down across the bed. Then he moved onto the bed with her.
As he kissed her again, his tongue delving through her lips, touching hers, he thrust his throbbing manhood deeply inside her warm and wet place.
Flame opened her legs wide to him and lifted them around his waist and rode with him as he moved rhythmically within her.
She clung to him as he pressed his lips to her throat, and then slid his mouth down to flick his tongue around first one of her nipples, and then the other. Her nipples grew hard at once beneath the wet assault.
Flame’s breath quickened as he swept his arms around her and enfolded her with his solid strength, his hot and hungry mouth on her lips again with an all consuming kiss.
His lips drugging her, she was so close, oh, so close to the ultimate pleasure, which she had only known while with her husband.
She sought his mouth with a wildness and desperation. She cried out against his lips as he shoved his sex more deeply into the yielding silk of her folds, and thrust over and over again into her in a more demanding rhythm. She clung. She sobbed. She floated.
White Fire held her tightly as over and over again he drove in swiftly and surely, the heat building inside him, the pleasure mounting.
His fingers pressed urgently into her flesh as he felt himself drawing close to his release. He gasped. He groaned. He kissed her wildly as he took her mouth by storm.
And then he made one last leap inside her and shuddered his seed into her as a searing, scorching flame shot through him.
White Fire Page 28
