that half-breed scout. Only that truth which can hurt or destroy will be left unspoken. We will tell no one of such secrets except White Arrow and my sons. You are home, my brother, and Running Wolf’s spirit can rest.”
Powchutu concurred with his half brother’s decisions. He would live as Eagle’s Arm, half brother to Chief Gray Eagle. He would tell no one of his deceased wife Shalee, who had been born half-white and halfBlackfeet. But with the discovery of his true identity, a reality had filled his mind: his children were threefourths Indian. It did not matter to Powchutu, but the truth was his son Stede carried more Indian blood and a higher birthright rank than either of Gray Eagle’s sons. He must find a way to send a letter to Stede and Alisha to let them know he was safe and well, and to, perhaps, tell them of their true heritage. He was notembittered by the fact Gray Eagle was living, and had lived, in his rightful place; yet, he could not help but wonder what his life would have been like if he had been raised as Running Wolf’s first-born son and Gray Eagle’s brother.
“Come,” Gray Eagle suggested, “we must speak with White Arrow before my sons return and your story must be told again.”
Shalee watched the two men enter White Arrow’s tepee, and she could imagine the scene taking place. An hour later, she was heading for the stream to fetch water when the Cheyenne war chief Windrider and his eldest son Soul-of-Thunder galloped into the Oglala camp, with her son Bright Arrow riding between them. She smiled as she envisioned her granddaughter Tashina’s reaction to her father’s visitors, one in particular.
The moment Shalee returned from the stream, Tashina rushed inside Gray Eagle’s tepee and nervously disclosed, “Grandmother, Father brought Windrider and Soul-of-Thunder to visit and I have no fruit pones and berry wine to offer them. Father is too generous at times, for he has given away most of our winter supplies. I am glad spring is here and I can soon collect more food for us and our guests. What must I do and say?” she asked anxiously, for hospitality was important in the Indian culture, just as charity was. But presently, all Tashina could think about was that she had no refreshments to serve their company.
Even as her seventeen-year-old granddaughter softly scolded her kindhearted father, Shalee knew the girl loved and respected Bright Arrow deeply and would never complain within his hearing. She was aware that her son’s hand opened freely to those in need, and that quality warmed her heart. Yet, she knew that Bright Arrow must learn it was not his duty to care for allthose in need. As his father aged, Bright Arrow had taken on certain responsibilities of a good chief to lighten Gray Eagle’s load. The same was true of Sun Cloud, who often hunted all day to provide game for those who had no husband or son or father. She was proud of her two sons and of their sensitivity.
Shalee realized the young girl knew these facts and was flustered only because of one particular visitor. “Do not fret, Granddaughter. I will give you all the fruit pones your men can stuff into their mouths and all the berry wine they can drink. You must calm yourself, little one, or they will wonder why Tashina’s cheeks glow like the evening sun and why her hands shake and her voice quivers when she speaks.”
Tashina laughed and teased, “You have more eyes than two, Grandmother, and you see all things. I do not understand why he causes my heart to race so wildly and my face to burn so brightly when he is near, and I try to halt such silly behavior. I do not want him to think badly of me for running out of supplies before the new growing season appears. Father worries more about the mouths of others than of those in his tepee. Perhaps I should hide our new supplies from his giving hands next season,” she hinted mirthfully, knowing she would not.
“Perhaps you will not live and work in your
Powchutu concurred with his half brother’s decisions. He would live as Eagle’s Arm, half brother to Chief Gray Eagle. He would tell no one of his deceased wife Shalee, who had been born half-white and halfBlackfeet. But with the discovery of his true identity, a reality had filled his mind: his children were threefourths Indian. It did not matter to Powchutu, but the truth was his son Stede carried more Indian blood and a higher birthright rank than either of Gray Eagle’s sons. He must find a way to send a letter to Stede and Alisha to let them know he was safe and well, and to, perhaps, tell them of their true heritage. He was notembittered by the fact Gray Eagle was living, and had lived, in his rightful place; yet, he could not help but wonder what his life would have been like if he had been raised as Running Wolf’s first-born son and Gray Eagle’s brother.
“Come,” Gray Eagle suggested, “we must speak with White Arrow before my sons return and your story must be told again.”
Shalee watched the two men enter White Arrow’s tepee, and she could imagine the scene taking place. An hour later, she was heading for the stream to fetch water when the Cheyenne war chief Windrider and his eldest son Soul-of-Thunder galloped into the Oglala camp, with her son Bright Arrow riding between them. She smiled as she envisioned her granddaughter Tashina’s reaction to her father’s visitors, one in particular.
The moment Shalee returned from the stream, Tashina rushed inside Gray Eagle’s tepee and nervously disclosed, “Grandmother, Father brought Windrider and Soul-of-Thunder to visit and I have no fruit pones and berry wine to offer them. Father is too generous at times, for he has given away most of our winter supplies. I am glad spring is here and I can soon collect more food for us and our guests. What must I do and say?” she asked anxiously, for hospitality was important in the Indian culture, just as charity was. But presently, all Tashina could think about was that she had no refreshments to serve their company.
Even as her seventeen-year-old granddaughter softly scolded her kindhearted father, Shalee knew the girl loved and respected Bright Arrow deeply and would never complain within his hearing. She was aware that her son’s hand opened freely to those in need, and that quality warmed her heart. Yet, she knew that Bright Arrow must learn it was not his duty to care for allthose in need. As his father aged, Bright Arrow had taken on certain responsibilities of a good chief to lighten Gray Eagle’s load. The same was true of Sun Cloud, who often hunted all day to provide game for those who had no husband or son or father. She was proud of her two sons and of their sensitivity.
Shalee realized the young girl knew these facts and was flustered only because of one particular visitor. “Do not fret, Granddaughter. I will give you all the fruit pones your men can stuff into their mouths and all the berry wine they can drink. You must calm yourself, little one, or they will wonder why Tashina’s cheeks glow like the evening sun and why her hands shake and her voice quivers when she speaks.”
Tashina laughed and teased, “You have more eyes than two, Grandmother, and you see all things. I do not understand why he causes my heart to race so wildly and my face to burn so brightly when he is near, and I try to halt such silly behavior. I do not want him to think badly of me for running out of supplies before the new growing season appears. Father worries more about the mouths of others than of those in his tepee. Perhaps I should hide our new supplies from his giving hands next season,” she hinted mirthfully, knowing she would not.
“Perhaps you will not live and work in your
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