Romance: The Campus Player: A College Romance

by Caroline Lake

  Bridget thought frantically about what she should say. She thought that she’d prepared herself better for this encounter, but it seemed she still hadn’t acquired the skills to hold a discussion with this man.

  The corner of Ishkode’s mouth lifted in contempt. “You are stupid for someone who calls herself a white person.”

  Bridget would have expected herself to be used to Ishkode and Thomas’ bluntness by now, but she still felt her feathers getting ruffled at the disrespect, especially since she’d just finished admitting to herself that she was unprepared yet again for an encounter with this man.

  Ishkode spoke again before she could form a reply. “Other complaints?”

  Bridget looked back at Ishkode, her face a mask of confusion. It seemed she was always confused and taken off guard when in the presence of this Injun.

  “About Animkii?” Ishkode clarified. “Is he doing poorly in school?”

  “Uh, no.” Bridget raised her eyebrows. “Actually, he does very well. A surprise considering his contempt for the subject matter.”

  “I never told him not to learn what he is taught there. It is important for white men to see that we too are capable of learning even if they are not our ways.”

  “I never doubted that he was capable of learning.” Bridget tipped her head slightly, her fascination with Thomas’ abilities momentarily overtaking the tension lying between she and the boy’s father. “His English is surprisingly good, even in view of his hate for white men. It’s well developed like your own, sir.”

  “I learned English when negotiations between the white men and the Lakota was still possible.” Ishkode leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, his gaze on the floor, his thoughts seemingly going to another place. “Your father and brothers put an end to that, didn’t they?” There was bitterness in his voice, but not the open derision that was usually present.

  Bridget locked eyes with the Indian for a few moments as she waited for him to finish.

  “Animkii’s knowledge of your language has nothing to do with the white man. I saw to it that he knew your language so that he would be able to get on with your people. More than your white men did.”

  The words he spoke about the white men striking out against the Lakota and starting what lead to a severing of negotiations were a well-known fact, but Bridget found herself pitifully tongue-tied when the statement was made so bluntly to her face by one of them.

  It was then that the curtain dividing the front room from the next was pulled aside, admitting a petite, elderly, grey-haired woman. She looked from Bridget to Ishkode, her expression one of question. She said something to Ishkode who answered in the same tongue.

  “My mother, Megis” Ishkode had the politeness to inform Bridget.

  “Hello, ma’am,” Bridget said, though she wasn’t sure the woman could understand her. The woman looked her over a bit curiously, but with no censure. Though she too was a Lakota, Bridget couldn’t help feeling slightly comforted at the presence of another woman. It wasn’t as if she had anything to fear from Ishkode. In truth, he seemed largely disinterested in her unwanted conversation, but she did wonder if he was prone to displays of temper as his son was.

  Megis said something to her son which caused him to raise one eyebrow at her. The elderly woman nodded her head again before Ishkode spoke. “Sit,” he said, motioning to a chair.

  Bridget had been considering taking her leave, but took the chair anyway, appreciating the gesture even though the old woman had clearly had to talk her son into it. Seeing that this wasn’t the end of the meeting, Bridget decided to give showing Ishkode the reason behind her visit one more try.

  “You see, sir,” she began. “I simply believe that if your son will submit to allowing Vermilion to teach him the basics of getting along with others, it could do him a great service. I’d only request your cooperation in encouraging him in this direction if you please.”

  “You say please a lot for someone who believes that she can make us do anything, whether or not she says such things.”

  “I don’t think that I can get you to do anything.”

  “No? I thought it is what all whites thought. Superiority, is this the word?”

  She quickly saw that she’d made yet another error in judgement. She should have left well enough alone.

  “I don’t think I’m superior.” Bridget could hardly believe her own ears. Her father and uncle would be outraged if they heard what she said and her grandfather would surely roll over in his grave. The confession was foreign even to herself, but she realized that it was a reflection of what she’d been coming to realize in the past couple of weeks, especially when she spoke to Ishkode. But, it was with her students as well. It was wrong to think that the whites were superior when each day she spent in the classroom assured her of just the opposite.

  Ishkode drew Bridget out of her musings with a question. “What was your name again?”

  “Bridget Moore.”

  “Bridget Moore,” Ishkode began. Her name on his accented lips sounded strange to Bridget’s ears. “It will make it difficult for you, but I will not force Animkii to submit to the school in every way. It was not our idea to send him there. He was forced. We were forced.”

  Silence lingered.

  “Yes, I know,” Bridget said, once again thinking of how angry her father would be right now.

  Ishkode watched her, his expression undecipherable. “Why did you come here?”

  Bridget thought for a few moments, wracking her brain for answers. “I don’t know.”

  The truth was, she did know. She’d believed that she had it all sorted in her mind. But, once again, Ishkode had shattered that illusion. But, she couldn’t tell him that. Goodness, she’d already humbled herself enough, hadn’t she?

  “You came to tell us to give up, like that school did by forcing my son to attend. It appears that you have wasted your time.”

  Bridget’s defenses were quickly reignited and she stood. “That’s not why I came.” She hardly knew what to think anymore. This man muddled her train of thought to no end. “But, it seems you wouldn’t be interested in anything I have to say, so I’ll be on my way and rest assured that I won’t be troubling you again.”

  “A wise decision,” Ishkode said.

  Bridget glanced at Megis. The older woman’s face held a tinge of sadness.

  “Thank you for your hospitality, ma’am,” Bridget said, using the excuse of politeness to Ishkode’s mother as a way to ease out of this infuriating situation. She turned her gaze back to Thomas’ father, knowing that the displeasure she felt reigned on her face. “I’ll go now.” Ishkode’s expression didn’t change, which Bridget found all the more enraging. She turned on her heel and left, vowing to never return to the reservation again.

  Chapter 4: An Entrusting

  Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three. Every student had turned in a book report. Except Thomas, of course, but Bridget had grown used to that. Though he hadn’t ceased being obstinate, she hardly noticed it anymore. Or, when she did, she pushed it aside, remembering Ishkode’s feelings about the school his son was being forced to attend and the contempt he’d sent toward her personally. She was determined not to let that encounter, or the vain pursuit of trying to make Thomas’ father agree with the Vermilion Lake School’s ways claim anymore space in her thoughts.

  Bridget glanced at the clock, sweeping the reports into a folder and gathering her belongings. She had herself on a strict schedule, generally able to stay within the time she’d allotted herself for after school grading quite flawlessly. Bridget was in and out of the school with trained detachment. She’d separated herself from any emotions that might hinder her work and had gotten very good at ignoring any qualms the two conversations she’d held with Ishkode had brought to her mind. To acknowledge her misgivings would be to question her entire upbringing and everything her father, uncle, and entire family believed in. She might have been momentarily swayed by Ishkode’s point of view, but she wasn
’t ready to give up her entire past simply because of those uninvited encounters.

  Intent on getting home so that she could review the following day’s lesson plans and complete the evening chores before darkness settled over the land were foremost in her mind, Bridget arrived home in record time. She was so focused on what she needed to do with her mind already working diligently on the next morning’s lesson that she didn’t notice anything strange about the house until she’d gone down the hallway and nearly reached the front room. When she heard the noise, like the scraping of boots against the floor, she froze. She was to be alone for the weekend as her family had left to visit family a few dozen miles away. Bridget had declined accompanying them since she thought it best not to miss school that day and they’d left in the morning. They should be long gone by now.

  Bridget considered lighting a lamp and calling out to the intruder, acting like she lived here because she did. However, leaning toward caution, she tiptoed closer to the front room from which the noise had issued, desperately wishing she weren’t wearing her heavy boots. She craned her neck when she neared the entryway, torn between the frightening need to know who was trespassing and the desire to flee the premises. When Bridget caught sight of the intruder, her insides plummeted. She’d never seen him before and the look on his face was not a kind one. Though it was slightly obscured by the falling shadows of evening, there was an ill determination in the set of his taut mouth and a glare in his eyes for certain. If he was searching for something to steal, she hardly cared what he took so long as he’d leave her alone. Then again, he didn’t have the look of an ordinary thief. A burglar would have gathered any valuables he could get his grubby hands on and left the house. But, this man lingered. What could he be there for? Bridget hadn’t the faintest idea.

  Every one of Bridget’s senses sprung to full alert when the footsteps began to grow louder and very confident as the prowler moved to another room. She scurried into the closet, hoping that the pounding of his own footsteps had drowned out any noise her hasty attempt at hiding had made. When the man continued to prowl through the house, obviously in search of something—or someone—Bridget knew that she had to get away. She was completely unprotected and was putting herself at risk. Heaven only knew what this man might do if he found a lone and defenseless woman lingering.

  With self-preservation her only goal now, Bridget kept a keen and frightened eye out for the right moment to dash out the back door. Perhaps if he’d start rummaging for something he’d make so much noise that he wouldn’t hear her footsteps. Bridget’s lungs were tight with terror and for a few moments silence reigned in the empty house, seeming to stretch out forever.

  A few moments passed before the man did begin to rummage. He was at her father’s desk. Bridget eased the boots off her feet, hoping that padding across the floor barefoot would give her a better chance of escape. Her heart nearly thudded out of her chest when the commotion ceased and the man released an exasperated noise. Bridget’s insides froze when she heard the intruder’s voice for the first time. “Moore!” he bellowed. She hoped that he was drunk, deciding she’d rather deal with that than real wrath. But, the man’s next words had her guessing that the man was quite sober. And thoroughly enraged.

  “Moore, I said I’d come for you! I’ve already taken care of that crooked lawman who helped you take my land away! I’ve come to take back every inch of it. I’ve come to do it and I won’t stop until I have repossessed what rightfully belongs to me!”

  Chills ran up and down Bridget’s spine. She knew who this was. She’d never encountered him before now, but this was Joseph Stall, a man who’d fought over her father’s purchase of land a couple of years ago. In order to ensure that the Moore’s had enough room to grave an additional head of cattle, Isaiah had bought the plot adjacent to their current home last year. Mr. Stall, their neighbor, had been quick to claim that the land belonged in his own family. It was a well-known fact that the Stalls had lost all of their money a number of years previously and that there was little chance of Joseph being capable of legally buying the property back.

  Court cases in town were nothing fancy, yet it had been determined that Joseph could claim no right to the property and the matter was closed. Legally the dispute was settled, but it wasn’t over for Joseph it seemed. Land meant much to folks out here and Joseph had both greed and anger driving him on. Bridget remembered how her father had claimed that the family’s plight with Joseph was in the past. Apparently not since Bridget was now frightened for her life.

  Bridget nearly jumped out of her skin when Joseph continued to bellow and his footsteps could be heard once again. She was too frantic to consider which direction they were headed; all she knew was that she had to make a run for it. She dashed from the closet racing outside. A desperate cry that came out as more of a squeak tore from her throat when she heard Joseph behind her. The words he screamed were snatched away by the chilly evening wind. Bridget’s mind was so muddled with fear she was certain her mind wouldn’t have processed what he said even if she could hear.

  Bridget ran without looking back, the instinct of survival pumping through her veins like never before, causing her to move with more speed across the dark ground than she’d ever thought possible.

  The dimness of nightfall combined with the blur of tears in her eyes had Bridget moving blindly and with mad abandon. It wasn’t until she smacked hard into someone that

  She pulled back with a shout of aggravation, thinking that if Joseph had caught her, she was a dead woman and if it wasn’t Joseph, the person before her was slowing her escape. The person before her gripped her arms, preventing her from moving forward.

  “Let me loose. Please, let me go!” she pleaded, pushing her fists against the man’s broad chest. “Please!” Bridget was sobbing now. She heard the person mutter a few words in a tongue she’d heard many times in her classroom, but couldn’t understand. Bridget looked up, blinking quickly in an attempt to clear her vision. She reached up to roughly brush the tears away when they only filled again. Though her emotions were still racing with fear, unexpected relief mingled with the tension boiling inside of her as she looked up at Ishkode.

  “What happened, Bridget Moore?” His voice was low and calm.

  Bridget took a few gulping breaths as she worked to steady her voice. “He’s chasing me. He’s looking for my father, but I’m the only one he found. God, he’s going to kill me!”

  Ishkode’s eyes moved over Bridget’s attire, taking stock of the fact that she was without a coat in the chilly air and wore no shoes. She could feel herself trembling, but didn’t feel cold. Ishkode removed his tan, fringed jacket and tossed it around her shoulders. It’s rustic smell and the sudden warmth on her skin caused Bridget to shiver. The cuts the rocks and rough terrain she’d run over barefoot began to throb as the injuries finally had a chance to register in her frightened mind. She shifted her weight as the dampness of the ground soaked into her irritated soles. Bridget startled when Ishkode gripped one of her shoulders with his fingers. “What happened?”

  “There’s a man who’s looking for my father,” Bridget started over, her voice slightly steadier. “They had a run in a while back and he’s back for revenge. He broke into my house.”

  Ishkode glanced in the direction she’d come from. “Which is yours?”

  “It’s the only one East of the creek.”

  Ishkode looked that way again before directing Bridget with a hand to her back. “Come.”

  Bridget took a few steps before thinking to ask where they were going.

  “I will take you to a safe place while I go to your house to make sure the man is gone.” Ishkode put pressure on her back again. She was too exhausted and relieved to protest. He made her believe that he could and would take care of this terrifying situation. It took nearly the entire walk for Bridget to realize that they were headed into the reservation. She wasn’t sure where she’d expected him to take her, but certainly not his home. Perhaps there wa
s some sort of communal place in which he intended her to wait.

  When they arrived in front of Ishkode’s own house, Bridget stopped short, uncertain. It was obvious that Ishkode had foreseen her hesitancy. “You will be safe here with my mother.” A few heart beats of silence passed before he added. “I promise.”

  The shock that he’d brought her here was quickly overcome by the alarming fact that Bridget believed him, trusting that she would be safe here. This was the domain of the “savages” who needed to have a part of them weeded out so that only the man remained. And yet, at the moment she felt far safer there than in her father’s house.

  Bridget proceeded Ishkode through the doorway. Ishkode lit a lamp which summoned Megis from the next room. Her expression and tone were questioning. Ishkode gave her an explanation and the next moment he was gone.

  Bridget looked over at the elderly woman, wondering how she felt about the intrusion of a white woman. And a white woman who needed charity, no less.

  Megis’ expression registered concern as she took in Bridget’s bare feet just as her son had. Bridget was surprised when she beckoned her in English to come toward the fire. “Come.”

  Bridget moved on wooden legs, collapsing gratefully when she reached the warmth of the flames. Even as her body began to be warmed, she was reluctant to remove Ishkode’s jacket. In this moment, it felt like security and smelled of him.

  Megis joined her holding a bowl of water, a rag, and a pair of socks. She motioned for Bridget to place her feet into the bowl and Bridget gratefully complied. The warm water stung the abrasions on her soles a little, but the sting soon subsided.

  “Better?”

  Bridget was once again surprised that Megis knew English. She nodded.

  Megis, evidently having noted her surprise, smiled slightly. “I learn English from my son.”

  Bridget nodded, her own smile a bit weak. “That’s very good.”

  Megis laid out the towel so that Bridget could dry her feet and handed her the socks. “It is important to my son.”