Shalee’s forest-green eyes lovingly caressed her beloved son, a warrior whose towering size and nearly matchless prowess belied his eighteen years. He was so much like his father in appearance and character. She wondered why her heart did not burst when filled with so much love, pride, and happiness.
“A’ta…,” he hesitantly began, alerting Gray Eagle to his problem. He smiled at his lovely mother. She affectionately returned it. He slowly began to relate his incredible tale which would rapidly alter each of their lives…
Chapter Four
Bright Arrow proudly disclosed how his band of mighty warriors had easily overcome the Bluecoats and destroyed them, conquering them with only two minor injuries to his own men. Although she said nothing and her expression remained calm, he perceived that his mother did not agree with the necessity of his actions, for she disliked the raids and their bloody outcomes. She was definitely concerned with more than his personal safety and survival.
When Bright Arrow had fully recounted the events of his raid, he gingerly spoke of the challenge and death of the Cheyenne brave. He hastily explained his reasoning and motives. Gray Eagle and Shalee listened to the tale about the white girl who was now in their tepee. Most noticeably, Gray Eagle’s expression grew wary and glacial, while Shalee’s revealed astonishment and inexplicable anguish. When Bright Arrow finished his narration, he silently waited for their response, which seemed too slow in coming…
After taking a moment to absorb this incredible event, his father questioned, “You killed a Cheyenne brother to possess a white girl?”
The choice of Gray Eagle’s words proclaimed his opinion. Even the challenge for a mere white girl was reprehensible! Bright Arrow carefully selected his words of explanation, “There was more at stake than who would claim the white girl, Father. Standing Bear openly taunted me. He tried to shame the son of Wanmdi Hota. He wished to torture and kill this innocent girl. His treatment of white slaves is no secret. I saw no reason for her pain and death. I did as I thought my father would have done; I reasoned with him first. When he refused a truce and continued to mock me, I was forced to fight and slay him. I could not dishonor myself or my name. The other warriors agree with what I had to do. Was this not right, my Father?” he asked.
“What of the white girl? Now that you have shed Indian blood to possess her, do you plan to keep her in our tepee? Is she still as desirable as she was before the blood of Standing Bear was upon her hands?” he asked, a strange look upon his face.
Bright Arrow was alarmed and perplexed by the odd tone in Gray Eagle’s voice. He slowly answered the question, “The girl still pleases me, Father. I will keep her for a time. She is different from the other whites. She does not see me through the eyes of an enemy. Hatred for me does not live in her heart.”
Gray Eagle stiffened; his jet eyes narrowed. “Why is this girl unlike the many others you have seen and taken?” Something about his father disturbed Bright Arrow, but he did not know why.
“I do not know, Father,” he replied honestly. “There is something about her spirit which calls out to mine. She does not behave or speak as other white-eyes. She is gentle and fragile. I feel responsible for her life and safety. I spared and protected her. Why, I do not know,” he confessed.
An unknown light shone brightly within Gray Eagle’s gaze. “You are saying this girl is special?” he queried in a deceptively calm voice; yet, his displeasure was obvious in his stormy eyes and tense frame.
“Yes, Father. I wish to keep her until I can understand what great magic she possesses. I must know why my spirit is warmed by hers.” He stood proud and respectful before his parents. He answered candidly, even though he secretly wished he could deny them the whole truth.
“What did the others say when you took this girl for yourself?” his father pressed, alert to any change in his son’s expression and tone.
“They, too, wanted her. They made many offers to buy her, but I refused them…for now.” He smugly boasted, “When you see her, you will understand why they did not mock me for desiring her.”
“What does this girl say about her enslavement to you?” he asked. “Does she know your secret?”
“As always, I pretended not to understand her tongue. I spoke only my English name. This girl knows many Indian words and signing. She has wisely accepted her captivity.”
“She knows signing?” Gray Eagle pressed, intrigued.
“It is a strange kind, but I could understand most of it. The whites she travelled with were bad to her. It seemed she was their prisoner in some unknown way. One called her uncle was going to sell her to many Bluecoats for their pleasure. Another white-eyes with many yellow stripes upon his garment was trying to force her onto his mat when I killed him and took her. She was unhappy with them; she was much afraid. She is very beautiful and young. But with me, it was not the same. She accepted me and trusted me. She clung to me as a small child for protection and in open desire as a woman. It pleased the other braves to view such prowess in their leader.”
“She does not resist your power over her?” Gray Eagle’s eyes probed those of Bright Arrow. He was alarmed by the sincerity and warmth in them.
“She is wise and obedient. I could read the pain in her eyes when she learned of my hold upon her. She no longer trusts me, but she does not defy me,” he announced, unwittingly hinting at his prior gentleness and leniency with her.
Gray Eagle then asked the question he most dreaded, “Had she known another man before you, my son?” He knew from experience the undeniable magic of first possessing a special woman.
“No, Father; I was the first to take her. I tricked her into responding to me. I thought it a cunning punishment,” he murmured ruefully.
“How did you take her?” That odd tone again laced Gray Eagle’s voice.
As feared, Bright Arrow lowered his gaze in guilt and shame. “I was not rough with her, my father. Her mind and body were pure; she did not guess my trick. She came to me as no other female ever has. I could not find it in my heart to hurt her body, only her heart,” he reluctantly admitted.
“Tell me all that passed between you,” Gray Eagle sternly demanded, his irritation and anxiety steadily mounting as more vexing facts came to light.
After Bright Arrow had related his tale, Gray Eagle murmured to himself, “I see…”
Bright Arrow assumed it was best to withhold his strong emotional feelings for this girl, for he did not understand them himself. “Unless you forbid it, Father, I will keep her for a time,” he stated, knowing he would comply with his father’s wishes. “She is called Rebecca.”
To conceal her modesty during their intimate discussion, Shalee had been standing with her back to them. Finally, she could no longer be silent and a cry escaped her lips. She whirled to stare at her son. Bright Arrow’s attention was instantly drawn to his mother. Her face was very pale; her green eyes were wide and filled with a haunted look. She seemed oblivious to his presence. Her trembling hand went to her parted lips as if she were preventing some torrent of words from coming forth.
“Mother? Why do you look so pale and distressed?” he questioned, puzzled by this curious and highly emotional reaction to his having taken a white captive.
Shalee swooned; Gray Eagle rushed forward to catch her limp body. He embraced her tightly and tenderly until she recovered her wits. Panic flooded her sea-green eyes, as she looked up at Gray Eagle. Something in his expression hastily silenced whatever she was about to say or to ask. Their eyes met and spoke without words. Bright Arrow witnessed this mysterious communication and wondered at its meaning.
“Are you ill, Mother?” he anxiously probed.
She smiled sadly and shook her head. “No, my son. Tell me more about this girl. What does she look like?”
Bright Arrow smiled and stated, “She is small; I could hold her up with one hand. Her hair is the color of yours. Her eyes are those of the she-wolf’s; but they can soften to the ones of a doe. Her skin is darker than yours.
She almost appears an Indian. Even for a white-eyes, she is beautiful. Her spirit is what makes her stand out against other whites. She is gentle and speaks softly like the singing of the stream. She is like a newborn fawn or a fragile desert flower.”
Shalee watched the glow which filled her son’s eyes as he talked of this special girl. Somehow this girl had touched him in some powerful, unique way. Shalee wondered if this was how Gray Eagle had felt about her all those many years ago when he had captured and enslaved her as his white enemy. The girl which her son had just described could have easily been her, nineteen years ago! A paralyzing feeling of dèjá vu washed over Shalee, and she trembled noticeably.
Shalee knew how very strange and unpredictable fate could be. Was it possible that her Bright Arrow had discovered a captive white girl of his own? Was it possible for him to love and desire this woman just as his own father had done long ago. The signs were the same; their actions were the same. Yet, somehow this disturbed her greatly. What would happen if the circumstances of the past and the present fused into one inseparable predicament?
“Tell me, my son; how long will you keep this white girl?” she asked, unable to stop herself. Mystic fingers played an eerie tune upon her nerves and thoughts, its ominous melody echoing intense warnings within her troubled mind.
“I do not know, Mother.” Their eyes met and spoke without words, telling her many things.
Shalee read these tender messages within his gaze, messages which disquieted her, messages of more than physical interest. Who was this girl? How would she alter their lives? Shalee dreaded the answers to those plaguing questions, for she clearly remembered the harsh demands and bitter anguish of Indian enslavement.
Bright Arrow glanced over at his father, then down at his mother. “Does it displease you that I have taken a white captive to my mat?” he anxiously queried, hoping his father would not utter the words of sacrifice which he dreaded to hear and be compelled to obey.
Gray Eagle looked deeply into Shalee’s eyes, knowing his answer was not only for his son’s ears and heart. “What of this girl when the time comes for taking a female of your own kind?” he cautiously began.
“There are many winters between now and then, my father. Could I not enjoy her until I must obey the laws of my people?” he parried his father’s reasoning.
“You say this girl possesses great magic and beauty. What if you cannot part with her when that time comes?” Gray Eagle wisely ventured into the unknown dangers of this matter.
“In time, both will fade. Then, I will send her away,” Bright Arrow nonchalantly voiced the promise he thought he would be able to keep.
“Look at your mother, Bright Arrow. Some women never lose their magic and beauty. Your mother grows more beautiful each moon. Her magic increases with the passing of time. If it is the same with this white slave of yours, you would be unable to give her up…as I could never part with my Shalee,” he reasoned, tenderly eying his lovely wife and her radiant smile.
“But mother is an Indian; Rebecca is white,” Bright Arrow argued, ignorant his claims were untrue.
“In the dark of night upon your mat, do you know and accept this difference? Or does Rebecca become only a woman, your woman?” his father boldly challenged, sending his point hurling home.
A stunned look flickered upon Bright Arrow’s face. He indignantly replied, “I did not forget she is white. Hunwi glowed upon her face, reminding me she was not Indian.” Yet, his hasty statement only entrapped him.
“Hunwi warned you she was our enemy; yet you took her with great gentleness and fiery passion?” Gray Eagle twisted the knife.
Bright Arrow lowered his head, unable to meet the discerning stare of his father’s ebony eyes. “Yes, Father,” he shamefully admitted. “Words say she is my enemy, but her spirit does not,” he added in his defense.
“And this does not prove to you that her skin color means nothing to you?” his trenchant reply came forth.
“Not so!” his son rashly disagreed. “She is my captive, nothing more! This I swear to you, my father. I see and know she is white. I will never forget it,” he vowed fervently, assured he would be true to his laws when the time came.
“You are the son of Gray Eagle, chief of the Oglala. You will be the next leader of our people. I fear this girl causes you to think with your loins, not with your head. The fact you have taken her and still keep her alarms me. I do not wish my son to be taunted and mocked for his kindness to his enemy. I do not wish my son to fall under the magic of a white girl whom he can never fully possess. To keep her invites danger, my son, for you and for this girl.”
“But I cannot hand her over to the Tipi Sa!” he blurted out, exposing his deep feelings without meaning to do so.
“Then you should trade her to another warrior who does not need to stand straight and true like Bright Arrow,” he advised.
Bright Arrow’s eyes darted about in panic as he mentally envisioned Rebecca struggling upon a mat with another brave. Anger and jealousy flamed brightly and deadly within him. “I cannot! She is mine! When I have removed her powerful magic, then I will follow your advice. I will send her away only if you command it, my father,” he declared, his eyes and voice obstinate. He was Gray Eagle’s son, but he was also a grown man and a noted warrior in his own rank!
How could a frightened white girl be a threat to a powerful warrior? All he had to do was turn his head to dismiss her from sight and mind! What better way to punish one of the enemy than to humiliate her with enslavement, to force her to bend her will to any wish or command? He would find this sport enjoyable and stimulating if his father permitted him to keep her.
“Then I must go to our tepee and view this girl whose spirit has ensnared that of my only son. I will return and speak the words of my decision about her fate. Remain here with your mother.”
“I must come with you, Father. She will be afraid. She has heard of Gray Eagle and the mighty Oglala.” When the noble chief questioned that information, Bright Arrow related the story of his sketches upon the ground which had revealed their identities. Gray Eagle thought it odd this white girl knew so much about him.
“No, Bright Arrow. I go alone. I will test her wisdom and courage. I will see if she is worthy to be your slave. I will learn why you have chosen her over one of your own kind.” Gray Eagle looked at Shalee; some unreadable message passed between them. Gray Eagle smiled at her, then lovingly caressed her cheek.
Bright Arrow reluctantly sat down beside his mother as they both intently watched Gray Eagle’s departure. When he was out of hearing range, Shalee studied her son closely. “You desire this girl very much, do you not?” she inquired.
Her soft approach relaxed his tension. “Yes, Mother. She is unlike all other women. I wish she were not white. If she were Indian, I would marry her this very day. If Father says I must give her up, it will sadden my heart. I fear her loss will dull my keen senses; and fear is not good in a warrior. I do not understand these strange feelings,” he mumbled sadly.
Shalee tenderly stroked his cheek, smiling into his brooding eyes. “It is not fear you feel, my son; it is concern for the white girl. It is like she would take a special part of your spirit with her if she is forced to leave your side. Desire and worry are not signs of weakness or fear, Bright Arrow,” she calmly assuaged his anguish and guilt. “It is your desire for her which troubles you, not fear.”
He stared at his mother, absorbing her words and perception. “You are a woman, Mother. Warriors do not see things that way. But is it so wrong to…” He could not complete his traitorous statement. He glanced away from her discerning gaze.
“…feel this way about your enemy?” she finished it for him. She smiled as their gazes met and sighed. “Perhaps in the eyes of our people, but not in my heart. Must Indian laws and hatred apply to all whites, even one so young and innocent as Rebecca? What has she done to make her our enemy? Nothing! She was born white; you were born Indian. Only the Great Spirit knows why. Evil
and hatred come from the heart, Bright Arrow, not from skin color. If her skin became red, would her heart or spirit be changed? If your skin became white, would your heart and spirit? No.”
When he started to argue her points, she silenced him, “Hear me out, my son. If Rebecca were not special, she would not have caught the eye of my son. Yet, there are many matters to consider. There are problems which even love and desire cannot conquer. These are what concern your father. He fears the magic hold she might cast over you, a hold which is forbidden in the eyes and laws of our people. Perhaps it is unjust and unfair, but it has always been this way. I wish it were not so, for my heart yearns for peace and safety. When you are young, the heart often speaks louder than the head. But love does not easily or painlessly yield to hostility and warfare. How does this girl look at you and treat you?” she asked.
Sensing his mother’s sympathy and concern, Bright Arrow slowly confessed the truth. He was pleased and relieved when she did not gasp in surprise or speak of dishonor. She cautiously related the unknown English words which Rebecca had spoken to him, binding him more tightly to this cherished captive. Instead, a haunting sadness was revealed within his mother’s forest green eyes. When she spoke, her voice contained echoes of emotions which he could not understand.
Shalee chose her words carefully, for her beloved son did not know that his own mother was a white woman. He did not know of how his father had captured, enslaved, ravished, tormented, and loved a white girl the year before he was born. He did not know of the anguish, sacrifice, and problems which they had faced and overcome long ago. He had not been told of how a desperate old woman named Matu had altered a scar upon Alisha Williams’s left buttock to match the akito—an identifying tattoo—upon the hand of the chief of the Blackfoot tribe, leading all to believe she was his half-breed daughter Shalee who had been kidnapped by whites at the tender age of two and who had been miraculously returned to her people at nineteen. He did not know of how his father had challenged Brave Bear, the chosen son of Chief Mahpiya Sapa, for Shalee’s hand in marriage. Their underlying secrets too deadly to reveal, these past triumphs and tragedies had long since been buried.
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