by J. R. WRIGHT
Ignoring her, he removed the bull hide bullet bag, emptied the contents on the floor, and went to the fall, where he caught some water. At the fire he used a forked stick to scoop the hot river rocks into it. They quickly brought the water to a boil, and he added coffee. Within minutes he was relaxing, his back against the cave wall, enjoying a steaming cup of coffee. Glancing over at Bright Moon, he noticed her upper lip curl, as it had done at the village when tasting coffee for the first time.
Chaska made an effort to sit up, but fell back to the pallet yelping in pain.
“Chaska die!” Bright Moon said, glaring at Luke, hoping that may persuade him to cook.
“Not likely. Those ribs will heal fast. The knee may take a while longer, though.” His eyes then went to the branches he had brought in for the fire. Seeing one with a broad fork about the right length, he went to it and drew the knife.
“Chaska hungry,” Chaska said.
“White man won’t cook,” Bright Moon complained.
With that, Chaska yanked the rifle from her hands. “Then woman cook!”
Now that she had her orders, Bright Moon scampered to the fire. Looking back at Chaska as if sizing him up for how much to cook, she hastily speared several chunks of meat on sharp sticks and placed them on the fire. Having seen Luke do it earlier, she then poked her fingers into a pouch nearby and sprinkled some salt over the sizzling meat.
Watching her, Luke said, “Salt.”
“Salt,” she repeated. “White man salt, good.”
“You can call me Tom,” Luke offered while hacking on the branch.
“Tom,” Bright Moon repeated. “People of village call you Apo.”
“It means Dawn.”
“Dawn,” she repeated.
“Better than Man Shits,” Luke said to himself, recalling again what the Brule village called him.
“Better than Man Shits!” Bright Moon repeated.
“No! No, no… Don’t say that!” Luke scolded.
Chaska laughed from where he lay on the straw pallet. This was all the encouragement she needed to say it again. “Man Shits…” Then it seemed she put it all together. “Tom Dawn, Man Shits.”
Even though it was painful to do so, Chaska laughed again.
“No!” Luke said and couldn’t help but laugh himself, even though embarrassed by the whole thing. “Just Tom!”
“Just Tom?”
“Just Tom!”
“Just Tom?” Bright Moon turned to Chaska for his approval.
“Tom. Only Tom,” he returned.
“Tom?”
“Tom!” Chaska confirmed, tiring of this as his breakfast burned on the fire, the aroma making him even hungrier.
“How was it you came to the village of the Lakhota?” Luke asked Chaska as he whittled and shaped the branch into a crutch.
“Mother come, Chaska inside. Taloma say before buffalo hunt. Know she die soon, so tell.”
“Did she happen to say your mother was white?”
“Mother white, she say.”
“What happened to her?”
“White man, with red hair on his face, come take her away.”
“Why didn’t she take you with her?”
“She did not know Chaska live. Think baby die at birth.”
“What was your white mother’s name?” Luke asked with great anticipation.
“Taloma not tell. Very sick,” he said, then began to eat as Bright Moon held a stick loaded with charred meat over his mouth.
This story seemed strange to Luke. As concerned as the old chief was about the purity of his people’s blood, why would he keep a white baby and raise it as his own? Maybe he believed that story about the white buffalo. Luke doubted it. He felt Brave Fox had created it to blind his people against the truth. But that didn’t tell him why he had kept the white baby in the first place. What was so endearing about this child that caused him to break his self-imposed rules?
Luke had another burning question that needed answering. “How did you get free from the place where I tied you?”
“Chaska soak rawhide straps in stream. Then stretch so can reach knots with teeth,” he said proudly.
“No one came for you?” If true, that was a relief.
“They will not come. They know Chaska go after Ojibwa bitch against will of chief. They not want to be punished like Chaska when bring Bright Moon to camp of Lakhota after raid on her people’s village, where all die.”
With that, Bright Moon’s face twisted, and she began to sob childishly. Big tears rolled down her cheeks. It was clear the horror of it all was still with her, and Luke had to look away.
“What was your punishment?” Luke asked in an attempt to take his mind away from her obvious pain.
“Sent Chaska away till snows come in winter. Chaska must have time to think how he can become a better son so someday he can be chief. Chaska live here in cave, make own arrows, kill own game. Not starve like some think, but get stronger and wiser.”
“How will you ever become chief? You’re white,” Luke said, remembering Brave Fox had said something similar about his son becoming chief someday. But that was before Luke knew the boy was white. Otherwise, he would have questioned it then.
“Chaska not white man! Chaska Lakhota!” he roared. “People know Chaska same as white buffalo – hair light, but heart that of buffalo, just the same.”
With the crutch near done, Luke tried it out for size, since the boy was nearly as tall as he.
“For Chaska?” Bright Moon wiped away her tears and brightened at the prospect of Chaska walking again so soon.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The rain let up considerably the following day. Since the antelope was near gone, Luke thought it advisable to locate the horses and see what could be scared up for the fire. Chaska still had the rifle. Even though Luke had the other Hawken stowed away with the saddle in the hollow of a protruding rock on the hillside, he felt it was time he had that one back as well. He had hoped they would give it up voluntarily. But since they hadn’t, he asked.
“I’m going out for game. I’ll need that rifle.”
“Tom has another,” Chaska said and lifted the muzzle from where he lay on the pallet. “No need for this one.”
“It’s always better to have two, in case the first shot is a miss.”
With that, Chaska moved the rifle aside, lowered the hammer, and let it fall to the floor. Upon seeing this, Bright Moon leaped over him, came up with the Hawken, and fully trained it on Luke, as before.
“No!” Chaska shouted, but too late to stop her from getting to her feet and cocking the rifle. “There is no use…”
“White Man, Tom Dawn, take Bright Moon away!” she shouted in agony. “See Chaska never again!” Giant tears formed in her eyes, feeling betrayed. She had lost her family in the raid, now was she to give up the only happiness she had experienced since?
“He does not wish to hurt us,” Chaska pleaded.
“Give me the gun or shoot,” Luke said and marched toward her. He knew Chaska’s heart now. But what of this little wolverine? Had she mellowed toward him as well?
“Stop!” she shouted as he moved up to within a foot of the muzzle. “You will die!” Her finger rested on the trigger.
Luke glared at her, hoping she would do the right thing. Finally, with tears flowing freely, she lowered the rifle and handed it over. Having done so, she fell to her knees where the crying continued.
“Bright Moon will make Chaska a fine wife someday,” Luke said to brighten the moment as best he could.
“You not take Chaska’s woman?” Chaska asked.
“I must honor my promise to your father. He is the chief. But I will see to it that Bright Moon is kept safe until she can be returned to you.”
“Chaska keep woman in cave. Wait for old chief to die. Then return to village.”
“Spotted Horse wants her dead,” Luke came out with it. “She will not be safe there even then.”
“Spotted Horse not think
with right head. His own woman of the Dakotah has mix of white blood. When time come, Chaska will change his thinking.”
“I must still take Bright Moon when I leave here in a few days.”
“Then Chaska follow when well. Bring Bright Moon back.”
“We each must do what is in our hearts,” Luke returned and left the cave. There would be more discussion of this later, he knew.
It took some time to locate the horses. All tracks were washed away in the rain, except the most recent. And he wouldn’t have come across those had he not been trailing some slow moving deer a mile from the cave.
Hours later Luke was traveling the valley, a gutted dry doe draped over the bay, leading the chestnut, when he heard it. The sounds told him precisely where to look for the source of the noise. The mouth of the cave was alive with laughter, and there on the narrow ledge were two naked beings dancing about as the fall splashed over them. One had a crutch – the other did not. One was white. The other Indian. A fox and a raven, joyous as if there were to be no more tomorrows. To be no more sorrows. What was right about this scene? Everything, Luke thought. He looked around for a place to take a nap and found it under a tree near where he stood. He would not return to the cave till the laughter stopped. Give them their time together, what little of it they had left, he decided, and pulled the hat down over his eyes.
It was the pawing horses that awakened him some time later. He glanced up at the fall and saw nothing. He got to his feet and stepped out onto the valley trail. And just as he did, a dozen Indians charged from around a bend and galloped toward him. Luke recognized Spotted Horse on the lead pony and stalwartly held his position.
“Ahu poh, Apo,” Luke heard several of them say as they approached and stopped before him.
“Hill,” Spotted Horse said in English before going into the Lakhota dialect of Sioux, along with signs. “What have you done with the Ojibwa bitch?”
Luke scanned the angry faces of those around him. “Woman is at a place where I tied her. I must go in search for game – hungry,” he signed, in answer to the question.
“What take you so long to leave Paha Sapa?”
“Horse lame. Wait to heal,” he lied again, hoping Chaska and Bright Moon did not come back to the fall. He thought to look, but dared not, for fear the Indians would follow his eyes and see them there, if they should appear.
“Do yourself a favor and kill the Ojibwa bitch,” Spotted Horse said. “Show me where she is, and I will do this deed for you.”
“I thought it best not to leave her evil spirit in your sacred Paha Sapa. It would surely stick around to haunt your people forever,” Luke signed, bringing looks of fear to most of the faces around him and much chatter among them. “I thought it best to take her far away from here.”
“Take her, then, and be gone of Paha Sapa this day,” Spotted Horse reined over to leave.
“Did you come here to tell me that?” Luke asked in English, knowing he would understand, but perhaps none of the others would.
Surprisingly, Spotted Horse answered in English as well. “We search for Chaska, the old chief’s son. Have you seen him? He is white.”
“White?” Luke acquired a puzzled look and shook his head.
“No, you have not seen him,” Spotted Horse said confidently. “If you had, you would be dead.” He laughed and led the yelping group at a gallop back in the direction from which they had come.
It took a few hours to get back to the cave. Luke had continued on the trail in the opposite direction from where the Indians had gone until he was confident he wasn’t being followed, before circling back over the top of the hills above the fall.
He dragged the deer into the cave and flopped it near the fire before looking around in the darkness for Chaska and Bright Moon. He caught sight of them in the bed, both with smiles on their faces.
“We need to hurry!” he said, drawing his knife to skin out the doe. “Spotted Horse and others are in these hills looking for Chaska.”
“They come?” Chaska said, with surprise in his tone, and reached for the crutch to pull himself up. “Did you speak to him?”
Bright Moon threw aside the blanket and came up to help him. They were both naked.
“I did. He still has a mind to kill Bright Moon. I will need to get her out of here tonight.”
“No!” Chaska bellowed in anger. “Bright Moon stay!”
“How will you protect her? Surely in time they will find this cave.”
“Cave secret. No one know but Chaska. When old chief die…”
“Even if you become a chief, Spotted Horse will have favor with the council. They already know him as a leader.”
“Spotted Horse friend. Chaska will make him understand.”
“If he is friend, why does he want Bright Moon dead?”
“Dakotah woman tell him that. All women of village want Bright Moon dead. Their men lay eyes on her,” Chaska said sorrowfully while Bright Moon helped him into his buckskin leggings. “Taloma protect Bright Moon. Now she dead.”
“Then you have to agree, it is best she go. With all this hatred, how will she ever survive back at village? Or even out here where she is searched for?”
“Where will Tom take Bright Moon that is safe?” Chaska weakened.
Even though this boy was raised Indian, Luke saw a lot of himself in him, when he was of that age. Stubborn to a point, but willing to listen to reason, once proved wrong. If he weren’t so certain Breanne was dead and couldn’t possibly have birthed this child, he may have been willing to believe this was his son standing before him. But that just couldn’t be.
“She will be left in the care of a trader at Fort Laramie. His name is Bordeaux. He is a fine man who is married to an Omaha woman of a good nature. Bright Moon will be safe and well cared for in their company.”
“What is this trader? How do I find this Lair-a-me when I am ready to go for Bright Moon?”
Luke glanced at Bright Moon and noticed her big blue eyes darting back and forth between the two men. Apparently she was uneasy about what was being said.
“Bordeaux has a store at Fort Laramie where people trade for white man things. I saw white man things at your village: cooking pots, knives, and rifles. How were they gotten if your people didn’t trade for them?”
“Some from many seasons ago when people live near white man in woods of minnisota. Other things taken from Ojibwa village, during raid that kill Bright Moon’s people.”
Again when hearing that, Bright Moon broke into tears. She ran to the bed, buried her face in the blanket, and covered her ears. She could bear no more of this discussion of her future and of what happened that fateful morning when her family died so brutally.
With that Luke pulled the map from his pocket that he had drawn on the trip up. It had sketches of each landmark along the way. He pointed out the waterfall, where they were near the top, and Fort Laramie, at the bottom of the page.
Seeming satisfied with that, Chaska, in a mellow, almost reluctant tone, consented. “Bright Moon will go then to this place you say. When Chaska leave here – go to place of Taloma. Ask old wise woman’s spirits to find a way Bright Moon can come back to village.”
Luke studied the boy in his obvious misery. “You have decided wisely. She will be safe. You have my word on that.”
“I will tell Bright Moon of this sad thing that must be done.” Chaska went to the pallet, and, using the crutch, he lowered down beside her.
Luke went back to the doe and began stripping meat and tossing it on the fire. The result would be charred meat, not as palatable as jerky, but it would have to do for a day or two on the trail.
Bright Moon didn’t take the news well. At first she argued, then she begged, then she sobbed for hours, it seemed. During this time, Luke prepared to leave, but then decided instead, out of mercy, to wait until early morning to do so. He slept out under the stars that night so Chaska and Bright Moon could be alone in the cave for their final hours together.
/> The following morning they left. Bright Moon was not tied to the bay horse as before. Chaska had requested it.
“Bright Moon will not go against my wishes. She will go to this place you take her and not try to run away.”
The horses were well rested after the long stay; therefore, Luke decided to put some fast distance between them and the cave. After witnessing the sad parting and Bright Moon not taking her eyes off Chaska until he was out of sight, Luke wasn’t so sure she wouldn’t turn back at some point. He knew the further away they were by nightfall, the less chance there was that she would consider returning. After all that had happened, he had no desire to back track and go through it all again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Seven long days of travel brought them to Fort Laramie. Near the fort, they reined up at a weathered clapboard structure simply marked STORE above the doors. There were no windows to let in light, which was why the huge double doors in front gaped open most of the time. From a distance the building resembled a livery barn, which was what the place had been before James Bordeaux installed plank floors and filled it with merchandise. The intended purpose was to sell needed items to travelers on the Oregon Trail that passed directly out front. Secondary purposes were to trade with the nearby tribes of so-called Fort Indians and to provide a recreational hangout for soldiers stationed at the fort. For the latter purpose, a bar and a pool table were installed in a small space near the living quarters in back. No doubt Bordeaux had covered all bases and became rich doing it over the past decade.
“Hohahe, (welcome) Tom Hill,” Katala Cola (Little Friend) said from behind the counter as Luke entered the store. Cola, what she was called now that she wasn’t so little anymore, was James Bordeaux’s Omaha wife. “Going or coming?” she had a habit of asking, since everyone on the trail was doing one or the other. It was her way of being friendly to whoever entered the place.
