Song Of The Warrior (4 page)

“Of course! Although,” she conceded with a doleful shake of her dark head, “it will be uphill without any supplies.”

“The whites say we are stupid savages.”

Willow winced. “You don't believe that, do you? I am Indian and I can read and write.”

“But you also have white blood; in fact, Bear says in your heart, you are all white.”

The fact that they had been discussing her annoyed her somehow. She had a feeling none of Bear's comments had been good. “I can teach you; I could even teach Bear ... if he'd let me.”

Raven laughed. “Do not think the biggest, strongest brave in this camp will ever come sit at your feet. Bear has
simiakia
, great pride of manhood.”

“He's swaggering, insufferable, and arrogant,” Willow snapped.

Raven blinked. “I do not know those
shoyapee
words.”

“Never mind.” She made a gesture of dismissal.

“Do you think you can teach me to write, too?”

“Certainly.” They walked toward her buggy, with Willow wondering silently why he felt this need when the other men didn't?

“I-I only thought,” Raven hastened to add as if he read her mind, “that if more of us knew the magic letters, it would be harder for the whites to cheat us.”

She paused, feeling her face burn. “There must be something wrong with the people we send out here.”

Raven shrugged. “Some are good; some bad. Some
shoyapee
just give in to greed. Many are
nesammeiek
; liars. It is tempting when those you deal with do not know what it is they sign.”

“Are you telling me that Chief Joseph's people did not understand the treaty they signed?”

“No,” Raven said, shaking his head, “we did not even sign anything. The Indian the whites set up as chief, the sly one they call ‘Lawyer' signed the paper giving away our land.”

“How could he do that? It won't hold up in a court of law.”

Raven laughed. “The whites want our land. Who will take our case to a court of law? Bear says the only thing we can do is fight.”

“But you know you can't win against the whole United States government.”

“So Chief Joseph says,” Raven nodded, “and he thinks of the slaughter of our people that will result if we do not follow the soldiers' orders.”

It was so unfair. Willow felt indignation rise in her heart. “We'll see about this.”

She got into her buggy and Raven handed her her books. “Willow, perhaps I should follow you and make sure you have no problems along the way.”

“I don't expect to have any problems.” She smiled at him as she picked up her reins. She wanted to do some lesson planning on the way home and she was weary of Raven's too obvious enthusiasm.

He looked disappointed, but nodded. “Until tomorrow then.”

She snapped her little whip and the old gelding pulled away from the camp. Behind her, she heard the children laughing and running like unbroken colts amid the general hubbub of the camp.

Just what could she do for her people? She had had no idea what conditions they were living under or the extent of what the white government was doing to help or hinder them. This was going to take some planning.

As she drove along, she was abruptly aware of the sound of a horse cantering up behind her. Willow glanced over her shoulder. It was Bear. She kept her buggy at a slow walk. “Is there a problem?”

He shook his head, but he didn't smile. “I was returning from the hunt and saw your buggy. How did your day go?”

What did he really want? She gave her attention to her driving, flinging an answer over her shoulder. “Why don't you ask your brother?”

“I'm asking you.”

“It went just fine, but I'm presuming you'd just as soon I didn't return.”

He fell in next to her, holding back his fine stallion so that it walked next to her buggy. “I did not say that.”

“You are a very suspicious person and hostile besides.” Willow kept her eyes on the road, wishing he would go on his way.

“What my people don't need is another wolf in sheep's clothing like Lawyer to sell them out to the whites.”

“I would never do that,” Willow snapped at him, eyes blazing.

“You charm my brother.”

She didn't know whether that was a question or a comment so she said nothing, but only hurried her horse a little.

In turn, Bear's stallion picked up its step so he could stay next to her buggy. “Why do you smile and encourage Raven?”

“I am going to teach him to read,” she almost shouted at him. “Is that such a crime?”

Bear studied her, shook his head. “I think you are kind to Raven for your own ends.”

“Raven is a very nice boy.”

“He does not look at you as a boy; he thinks he is a man.”

She was so angry, she reined in sharply and stopped, glaring up at him. “I am only there to teach!” she shouted.

“If you try to soften my opposition by luring my brother to sit at your feet like a pet dog, it will not work.”

Was it guilt or anger that made her strike out at him with her little whip, catching him across his buckskin-clad shoulder? She brought it back to strike him again and this time, he leaned from his horse, caught her whip hand in his.

Once again, she was amazed at his agility and the immense power of his grasp and realized he could easily jerk her from the buggy seat. That seemed to cross his mind, too; she saw it in his cold eyes. With one arm, he could lift her to him. For an instant, they were frozen in time and emotion. She saw the struggle behind those dark eyes and try as she might to hide it, Willow knew fear must be evident in her green ones.

Now, the warrior took a deep breath, grabbed the whip instead, jerked it from her grasp. She looked up at him, her breasts heaving as she gasped for air, realizing too late what a reckless thing she had just done, remembering the strength and power of the man as he had fought Deek Tanner.

Bear glared down at her a long moment, the only sound, the sound of her own breathing. His dark, rugged face was as cold as stone. He muttered an oath under his breath. “If you were a man, I would have killed you for that!”

Then he tossed her little whip into the back seat of the buggy before wheeling his stallion to turn and gallop away toward the Nez Perce camp.

Tananisa!
Damn! Now he had her cursing, she was so upset. Willow thought about Bear the rest of the way back to town. She must be rational and calm about this. She understood what his game was; he intended to frighten her away, discourage her from returning to the Indian camp. The fact that he suspected her motives both saddened and angered her. How dare that hostile warrior think that she had any ulterior motives? She wanted only to teach the Nez Perce children; after all, these were her people, too, even if she was more than half-white and had been raised back East. If the Reverend Harlow and his wife hadn't been kind enough to rescue Willow and send her away to school when her own parents had deserted her, there was no telling where she would be now. Willow would always feel obligated to the vinegary old man for that.

Willow smiled now as she made her plans. Yes, she would return to the camp tomorrow and continue to teach the children. She would show Bear that she was truly a Nez Perce woman, not a weak, fainting white girl who could be easily frightened. She made another plan. She was going to teach Raven as much as she could. He could set an example for the other adults to follow in giving up tribal customs, accepting civilization and following the white man's road. Of course this would annoy his big brother no end, but maybe she was strong enough to deal with that obstinate warrior ...at least, she hoped she was.

On the other hand, did Raven really want to learn or was he only looking for an excuse to be close to her? Willow smiled. He was evidently smitten with her, but even though Raven must be a little older than she was, he seemed like such an immature boy, compared to ... Why couldn't she forget about that big brave who never seemed to smile?

 

 

When she arrived back at the parsonage, the reverend didn't seem to be feeling much better, but he insisted that they were going to attend the entertainment that evening at the fort.

“But, sir, you don't seem at all well—”

“Nonsense!” he snorted. “I wouldn't miss it for the world! Besides, remember I mentioned a handsome young lieutenant I'd like you to meet? I understand Billy Warton's from a prominent Missouri family.”

“Hmm.” She wondered a moment, said nothing, her mind busy. Willow wanted to spend her time truly helping the Nez Perce children, but certainly she would need aid from sympathetic whites to get school supplies and other things her people might need. “All right, perhaps I should meet some of the prominent people.”

The reverend actually smiled at her over his glasses. “I knew you'd see it my way, my dear.”

Willow chose her green silk to wear that night. Actually, it was a bit threadbare and had come second-hand from another of Miss Priddy's students. However, it was the only really nice dress she had, and she knew it showed up her green eyes and the dusky color of her skin.

Even the reverend nodded approval. “Wait until everyone sees you,” he crowed. “For years, I tried to convince the mission board that we should send even more people out West to tame these wild savages, make them over. When everyone sees you, they'll believe it can be done.”

The thought that she was being exhibited like a prize filly annoyed Willow, but she reminded herself that she must be obedient and properly grateful. “I suppose it was God's will that you found me as an abandoned child.”

He nodded as he frowned. “Sometimes my wife wondered if we had done the right thing, taking you as we did, but now, of course, I know it was right, even though …”

“Even though?” she prompted, wondering what else there was to the sketchy story she already knew.

“Never mind,” he dismissed her question with a frail hand. “Sometimes, despite what some think, the end does justify the means; you're the living proof of that.” He began coughing again.

“Are you sure you feel like going out tonight, sir?”

“Stop worrying about me,” he snapped, “I've been looking forward to this chance to show you off and introduce you to Lieutenant Warton. You may also get to meet General Howard, my dear.”

“The famous Civil War general? Why would he be in this area?”

“Some say there may be trouble with the nontreaty Nez Perce if they won't follow orders to move to the smaller reservation.” He looked at her a long moment. “Actually, it might not even be safe for you to be going to that camp.”

It would please Bear too much if she were thwarted in her work, and besides, the children needed her. “Reverend, you forget that I'm almost half-Nez Perce myself; I won't be harmed.”

“I'll have to think about this.” He glared at her over the tops of his bifocals.

Willow managed to stifle her rebellious retort. What was getting into her? Before she had returned to the wild Northwest, she had prided herself on imitating the upper-class white girls at Miss Priddy's school, obedient and subservient. Now she was even uncomfortable in the clothing she wore, the tight corsets, the shoes that pinched. It was Bear, she thought with annoyance, his arrogance and independence were beginning to rub off on her.

“Remember, Reverend,” she said in a properly demure tone, “I'm sure that as long as I'm doing God's work among the savage heathen, I'll be safe enough.”

“Quite true; quite true. Yes, I suppose it will be all right.” He frowned. “My left arm is hurting me again; must have pulled a muscle. I'll lie down until it's time to leave for the social.”

Willow started to argue that maybe they shouldn't attend the social at all, then decided it was useless. Besides, if she didn't take advantage of this chance to meet the influential people of the settlement, she wouldn't be able to help the Nez Perce children.

 

 

There was a larger group than Willow had expected as she and Reverend Harlow entered; mostly military men; a handful of ladies. Was it only her imagination that some of those same ladies wrinkled their noses disdainfully as they were introduced to her?

“So, Reverend,” a pudgy woman smiled with her mouth but not with her eyes, “is this the little squaw we've been helping financially so she could return to civilize our savages?”

“Why, yes,” Reverend Harlow seemed to see the angry glitter in Willow's green eyes and rushed in, “and isn't she a shining example of what civilization can do for the heathen?”

Willow swallowed hard, managed to keep her mouth shut as she curtsied. She must not be rebellious. More than anything, white civilization seemed to dislike rebellious, headstrong women.

The other women gathered around her curiously.

“My husband owns the big general store,” the pudgy one announced as if she were Queen Victoria.

“And mine has the largest ranch in the area,” a dowdy one piped in.

“How fortunate for you! And all on Indian land, too.” Willow continued to smile while the ladies blinked as if trying to decide whether a slow-witted savage was capable of such a clever insult or had she made the remark in innocence?

What was getting into her? She had never had the nerve to say what she thought before. Certainly such feistiness would shock everyone coming from a girl who had come to do God's work among the so-called heathen. Reverend Harlow was glaring at her as if he were about to have a heart attack.

If she were going to try to get some aid for the Nez Perce from these people, she'd have to be a little more humble. “What I meant to say,” she forced herself to lower her eyes, “is that I am truly grateful that I have been called to help these poor, ragged Indians who do not even seem to have a blanket apiece, despite the Indian agent's allotment.”

Another plump lady gasped and her eyes widened. “My husband is the Indian agent. I'm sure that—”

“Oh, I'm sure all those supplies are lost in some warehouse,” Willow said, giving the woman her most wide-eyed, innocent look, “and knowing what a fine man your husband is, I'm sure he'll help me find them so little children won't be cold next winter.”

She smiled sweetly at the woman whose mouth opened and closed while the others turned to look at her. “I-I'll see to it myself,” the plump one gulped, “I'm sure my husband has simply been too busy or maybe didn't know.”

“I knew that would be the case.” Willow looked innocently at the whole group. “Cast your bread upon the waters, as the Good Book says. I'll tell the children tomorrow that their fine agent is looking into this problem.”

The reverend caught Willow's arm in a grip that surprised Willow. Or maybe he was just angry. She could see the pulse pounding in his pale temple as he led her away. “Come, my dear child, I see General Howard and his aides have arrived and I do so want you to meet them.” As he led her across the floor, he hissed between his teeth, “are you out of your mind? Must you humiliate me in public?”

“Why, whatever do you mean, sir?” Willow feigned surprise, “I just knew that when the good ladies became aware how the Indians were being cheated—”

“We have done a fine job of keeping civilization going out here on the primitive frontier for many years without your interference, my dear. I'm surprised at you; I thought Miss Priddy's Female Academy was famous for turning out well-mannered ladies.”

“Maybe it's the heathen savage in me,” she answered as they crossed the floor.

She heard his sharp intake of breath and regretted her retort. What was she thinking? It wasn't her place as a woman to question the way things were; hadn't she always been told that? It was her place to teach the Nez Perce so that eventually, they could fit into the white world as she had.

Her boned corset squeezed her waist so tightly, Willow could scarcely breathe and she caught a glimpse of her reflection in a window as she passed. Yes, she was the epitome of white civilization, the savage tamed. This was the ideal she was going to bring to her mother's people; the miserable corset, the mincing walk, the downcast eyes. Willow had always taken it for granted that the Nez Perce would be better off losing their own culture and substituting it for the superior white one; now as she looked at her reflection, she began to wonder.

Reverend Harlow held out his hand as they approached the officers. “Ah, General Howard, I'm Reverend Harlow, delighted to meet you.” They shook hands while Willow waited demurely. “And allow me to introduce my ward, Willow.”

The general had deep-set soulful eyes, a beard, and his right arm was missing. He looked sincere, Willow thought as she curtsied. “How do you do, sir?”

“I'm delighted, Miss Willow, to see such beauty in this hostile land. May I present my aide, Lieutenant Warton?”

The handsome young officer might have been in his early thirties. One curl hung down over his boyish forehead as he caught her hand and kissed it. “Charmed, Miss Harlow, I certainly didn't expect anything like you in this godforsaken country.”

She felt herself color at his frank admiration. General Howard chuckled. “I'm afraid the lieutenant isn't all that impressed with the Northwest.”

“Oh?” Willow said politely. “I've been in Boston for most of my life, but I had forgotten how breathtaking the Northwest was.”

“It isn't very civilized,” the lieutenant grumbled and Willow decided he definitely had a weak chin. The music struck up in the background. “Would you care to dance, Miss Harlow?”

She glanced at the reverend.

He frowned. “As long as it's something sedate and unworldly, Lieutenant.”

“Certainly, sir.” He took her arm and they joined the small group of couples and the rather primitive little band that seemed to be a few fiddles and a harmonica. They danced a reel, but Willow noticed that when his hand brushed hers or his went to her waist, she could feel the heat of his touch. Was that passion in the young officer's gaze when he looked deep into her eyes? Willow didn't know; it was something she had never really experienced, but it was unsettling. Certainly this young officer was a civilized gentleman and she was misreading what she saw in his eyes. Finally, the reel ended.

“May I get you some punch, Miss Harlow?”

“Certainly.” Anything to escape from returning to the elderly gentlemen talking politics, she thought. He offered her his arm in a very exaggerated manner and Willow took it. They walked to the refreshment table.

“You said you were in Boston?”

She nodded. “Miss Priddy's Female Academy.”

“That's a very prestigious school.” It bothered her that the young dandy seemed so terribly impressed.

“The Reverend Harlow has influential relatives there; the van Schuylers, who pressured Miss Priddy to board me,” Willow explained as she accepted the cup of punch. “I was sort of a community and church project to help the poor savage.”

“I beg your pardon, Miss Willow?” He looked at her blankly.

“Actually, my name is Takseen,” she said, as she sipped her punch. “It means ‘Willow' in the Nez Perce language.”

Was that just a flicker of dismay in his pale eyes? “You're Indian?”

“Less than half,” Willow answered, “my mother was white, Salish, Paloose, and Nez Perce. I understand my father was a Russian trapper, although I never met him. Reverend Harlow and his wife rescued me when I was a very young child.”

Was there just the slightest change in the officer's attitude, or had she imagined it?

Lieutenant Warton shook his head, cleared his throat. “Well, it really isn't anyone's business, is it? Especially the local old biddies.” He smiled as he looked toward the handful of white ladies watching them with curiosity.

Willow warmed toward him despite her initial feeling of dislike. “Thank you for that.”

He brushed the curl off his forehead. “Your arrival in this horrible wilderness is the most interesting thing that's happened.”

“Horrible?” Willow was stunned. “Why, I had just been thinking how wild and beautiful the country was.”