Ghost Rider (5 page)

One year, on the night of the first full moon after the harvest, a baby was born in each of these tribes. In the tribe to the north it was a girl, daughter of the chief. He named her Moon Glow, for the first natural beauty he saw after gazing at her face for the first time. In the tribe to the south it was a male child, son of a mighty warrior. His father named him White Eagle, after the great bird which had soared majestically above his home at the moment of his son’s birth
.

When Moon Glow was fifteen, she was betrothed to her father’s bravest warrior. As a wedding gift, she chose to make him a cloak of pure white leather, embroidered with eagle feathers in the image of a bison—his totem. She traveled from her village to find the most perfect feathers for the cloak
.

At that time, White Eagle was being prepared for the rigors of war. His elders had sent him out in the mountains with only his clothes, his knife, and a flint to make fire. He had to live alone and survive for half the life of the moon—
two weeks—with only those tools. He could not see anybody or talk to anybody until he had completed his test. While others before him had died alone and in shame, White Eagle was determined to survive. In the wilderness he had made the weapons of survival—a bow and many arrows, even a spear. He had eaten well, he had slept warmly. He was sure he would survive his test
.

White Eagle had been in the mountains for ten days. His only companion was a white stallion who roamed the mountains near his camp
.

Suddenly Lisa sat upright. John was talking about Kate’s horse, the stallion they’d seen earlier! She listened closely as he went on.

The horse ran whenever White Eagle tried to touch him or capture him, but he seemed to like being near White Eagle. The brave knew that the horse was wild, now and forever, and somehow the horse’s very wildness was a comfort to him
.

One day Moon Glow walked in the mountains alone, hunting for an eagle from whom she could pluck feathers for the cloak. She did not see the mountain lion who stalked her, nor did she hear him. But the mountain lion saw her. Without warning, he attacked, howling and shrieking in victory as he landed on her back. Moon Glow screamed, knowing it would do no good and hearing in response only the slow, sad echo of her own voice
.

White Eagle heard the cry of the mountain lion and leapt up from his fire. Then he heard the cry of Moon Glow and he ran. He was only vaguely aware of the presence of the white stallion—a shadow at his side in his flight toward destiny
.

When he found Moon Glow and the mountain lion, the girl was struggling bravely against the overpowering force of the wild creature. Without hesitation, White Eagle drew an arrow from his quiver, slipped it into his bow, drew it back, and let it fly. But he had drawn too quickly. The first arrow sped right past the lion and the girl and struck the ear of the white horse who watched from beyond. The horse flinched momentarily, but stood his ground bravely as the arrow passed right through his ear and landed harmlessly beyond him. Then White Eagle shot again, taking more careful aim. His arrow met its target. The mountain lion fell limp and dead. White Eagle ran to Moon Glow and took her up in his arms. She was almost unconscious and bleeding badly. White Eagle knew she was near death
.

All thoughts of himself fled from his mind. He knew only that he must save this woman and the only way he could save her would be to return her to her people. He did not think of the consequences; he thought only of the woman who needed him. He began the long walk to the north, carrying the chieftain’s dying daughter in his arms
.

As he walked, White Eagle became aware that the wild white stallion walked with him. It surprised him because it
was White Eagle’s arrow that had wounded the stallion, but the ear showed no blood—just a nick that looked like an old wound, long healed. The stallion matched the brave step for step, never straying more than a few feet. And when a rock in the mountain caused White Eagle to stumble, the horse was there for White Eagle to lean on. It was the first time White Eagle had ever touched the horse. He was certain the horse would flee from his touch, but the stallion did not. He waited. Then White Eagle understood. The horse was offering to carry them to the north
.

White Eagle lifted himself and Moon Glow onto the stallion’s back. He cradled her in his arms as the sleek stallion made the journey
.

It was an arduous journey, for Moon Glow had traveled far to search for feathers. When they arrived at her village, the chief took his daughter, but would not speak to White Eagle. The chief recognized him immediately as a son of the tribe of the south. White Eagle knew that his thanks was his life. He returned to the mountains
.

Time passed. Moon Glow healed and White Eagle survived in the rest of his test. But neither could forget the other
.

Then, one day, the stallion mysteriously appeared at White Eagle’s village and seemed to invite White Eagle to ride on him. White Eagle climbed onto the horse’s sleek back. The stallion took off immediately. Soon White Eagle found himself in the mountains once again. This time he
was not alone. Moon Glow was waiting there for him. She was well and beautiful. At the moment they saw one another, they knew that they would love each other for eternity and that the stallion understood their love and had brought them together
.

Many times after that, the stallion carried the lovers to one another. Moon Glow delayed her marriage by insisting that she finish the cloak she was making for her future husband. She sewed the feathers on the soft, white leather, but try as she did to make it the pattern of a bison, it was an eagle, soaring gracefully. Though she knew she was being disloyal to her father and to her tribe, Moon Glow loved the design she had crafted, as she loved the man it stood for. She would present the cloak to White Eagle, rather than to her future husband
.

Finally the day came that Moon Glow and White Eagle had always dreaded. On the day that Moon Glow planned to give the finished cloak to White Eagle, Moon Glow’s future husband trailed the white horse to the mountains, When he found the lovers together, the warrior was angry and jealous. Hatred for this enemy of his people filled his heart. Vowing that the pair would be punished, he seized them both, bound their hands, and made them walk back to the village in shame. There was no sign of the white stallion as they walked. There would be no rescue this time
.

The chief was shocked to learn of his daughter’s treason. He immediately condemned White Eagle to death and
offered his daughter to any of his braves who would still have her
.

“Oh, that’s so sad,” Stevie interrupted. “How could her father be so cruel!”

The others nodded as John continued.

All hope was lost for the lovers. There was no escape for either, and to both death seemed preferable to separation. At the moment of White Eagle’s execution, Moon Glow swallowed some poison. She lived long enough to watch the flames consume her beloved White Eagle and the flowing white cloak he wore to his death. As the smoke drifted up to the pale blue sky, she saw the distinct outline of a soaring eagle take flight. She gasped—whether in pain or surprise, nobody knows
.

Then, at that moment, there was a thunder of hoof-beats. A pure white stallion came galloping through the village. He paused at the weak and dying Moon Glow. With her last ounce of energy, she reached upward, clutched the stallion’s mane, and was swept up off the ground. Magically the horse rose in the air and flew sky-ward. Then, as the tribe watched, there appeared behind her on the horse, the pure white leather cloak she had so painstakingly made. On it was the perfect image of an eagle
.

“The lovers are gone now,” John said. “Living together in eternity. But they say the horse still roams the wilderness, riderless, on an endless quest to help others whose love transcends hatred and bigotry. He carries the nick in his ear as a reminder of White Eagle’s sacrifice, for the moment the brave performed the selfless act of saving Moon Glow, his fate was sealed. Our people call the horse after him—White Eagle.”

Without another word, John rose and left the room.

“W
HO WAS THAT
boy?” Christine asked, sighing.

“John,” Stevie said. “He works here. Wasn’t that a
romantic
story!”

“Imagine—a flying horse!” agreed Carole.

“My mother has told me a story sort of like that,” Christine said. “Only she didn’t tell it as well as John does. You know how important the traditional tales are to Native Americans don’t you? The generations learn from one another as stories are passed through the ages. We were telling stories long before the Europeans figured out how to write them down!”

“Well, that guy really knows how to make up a good tale and tell it just right,” Stevie said. “That’s the sort of thing you learn at your parents’ knees.”

“Jealous?” Carole teased.

“No. He’s not as good as I am, but he is good. I mean, his story did make me shiver, but not the way my story scared you guys, right?”

“His wasn’t supposed to be a scary story,” Carole said.

“Oh, yes it was,” said Lisa, speaking for the first time. “It was meant to scare Kate from adopting the stallion.”

“I know. And it’s not fair,” Kate added.

All four girls looked at Kate, suddenly aware how much John’s romantic tale had touched her.

“I want that horse. I don’t know how he knows that I do, but he does. And now he’s trying to make me change my mind. I just don’t know why.”

“Maybe he wants the stallion himself,” Lisa suggested.

“But how did he know I wanted it?”

Lisa gulped uncomfortably. “I told him,” she confessed. “See, he asked me about the ride we took, and I mentioned the stallion. He seemed all upset about it at the time, but he wouldn’t tell me why. I asked him if he wanted the stallion himself, and he said that wasn’t it. He just said that nobody could have the stallion with the nick in his ear. It was strange. One minute he was friendly and helpful. The next minute he was all strange about the horse.”

A confused look crossed Christine’s face. “Wait. I know him. Isn’t that Walter Brightstar’s son, John?”

“Yes,” Kate told her.

“Oh, there’s something odd about them, isn’t there? I mean, I sort of remember some kind of rumor.…”

“They’re really good with horses,” Lisa said, suddenly wanting to defend John. “When I saw John, he was staying with a mare who is going to foal soon. He said she was restless and seemed to like his company. She did, too. She finally fell asleep while he was there.”

All four of Lisa’s friends looked at her. “When was this?” Stevie asked.

“After supper,” Lisa explained. “I went back out to the barn to get my watch. John was there with the mare.”

“Ah, a late-night meeting in the barn! Just
happened
to forget your watch?” Stevie teased.

“It wasn’t exactly late night,” Lisa said. “It was seven-thirty. And, yes, I did just happen to forget my watch. Give me a break!”

Stevie regarded her carefully and then shrugged her shoulders. “Well, you’re
probably
telling the truth,” she said. She was teasing and Lisa knew it. “But I think John was just being a practical joker. He’s a pretty funny guy. I’ll bet he just happened to be passing by the bunkhouse and heard my story, then couldn’t resist
the opportunity to join in on the Halloween fun so he made up that fantastic ghost story.”

“I don’t think he made it up,” Christine said. “As I told you, my mother used to tell me one very much like it. The people around here know lots and lots of Native American tales. They’re mythical and romantic. Sometimes they’re pretty hard to understand.”

“This one wasn’t,” Kate said. “At least John’s reason for telling it wasn’t hard to understand. It was carefully designed to make me change my mind about owning the stallion. And all I can say is that it won’t work.”

“Well, I’ll tell you one thing,” Carole said. “It may be a story, but it certainly isn’t true. Remember that John began it by saying it all happened before his own grandfather’s memory? That means it must have happened at least seventy years ago, and most horses die in their twenties, though a few live to thirty, maybe thirty-five. There is no way a horse is going to live as long as seventy years! Out of the question.”

“It’s a story, Carole!” Stevie said. “It wasn’t meant to be taken literally. Besides, if the story is correct, the silvery stallion is some kind of ghost anyway. Ghosts don’t have ages the way people or horses do. They just exist. Sort of.”

“Oh, I suppose,” Carole conceded. “I was just trying to make Kate feel better.”

“Thanks, Carole,” Kate said. “You did make me feel
better. You and Stevie reminded me that John’s story is just a story, and I don’t have to pay any attention to it. I’m going to get that horse at the adoption, and now I know what I’m going to name him.”

“Yes?” Stevie asked expectantly.