The Savage Ones

I looked outside the rocking Conestoga wagon, watching the long trail of dust that followed us like a giant, filmy snake across the land. We'd been travelling for many days through the dry, parched heat, and every time we stopped the trailing cloud settled over us, coating everyone and everything in the same gray film. I saw the shadow of a rider coming, dropping back from the head of the wagon, and I sank back inside. I didn't want to talk to anyone, and especially not him. The only thing I admired about him was his fine painted pony.

I took a subtle look out the front end at Mamma, seeing her sit so proud and straight in the seat, handling the team of mules. Her hair was a pretty shade of light brown, matching the smattering of freckles across her nose. She had the prettiest green eyes I'd ever seen, and many times I'd heard them admired. She shifted ever so slightly but before she could catch a look back at me I dropped down and lay still like I was sleeping. Despite how much I loved her, I still couldn't forgive her for what she'd done, no matter how long ago it was. I didn't like being angry with Mamma, but I couldn't stop myself.

My Papa, my real one, was Napayshni, the strongest, the fiercest, and the bravest among the Nakota, or Yanktonai tribe, at least to my mind he was. Papa was a proud warrior, but aging and still he had no sons. He'd spoken little of his grievance, and I only knew that he'd had two wives in the past, both long dead from sickness or violence. Though I was female, I was of his blood his firstborn child, and he'd lavished love on me that was usually reserved for sons. I was his daughter, and I wanted to be back among my people and I half resented Mamma for taking me away.

Mamma had lived among the Nakota for a time, and I was born as one of the people. It would take many years before I realized that Mamma had been a slave, a prisoner against her will in my father's lodge. That's why one dark and moonless night, she'd taken me and we'd run away, and we didn't stop running until we came to the ranch of Arthur Fells. She had known him years before when she was a girl, and his ranch still stood, and she turned to him for help, her alone with a half-breed seven year old girl.

Arthur had a boy of his own, a boy ten years my senior by the name of Jimmy. Though he was slightly skeptical of me at first, Jimmy treated me kind and by the winter snows we had bonded. He'd always wanted siblings he told me one day, and a little sister was the best kind to have, so while he lived, life with Arthur Fells wasn't so bad. Three years later came the raid, the whooping screaming Indians with their rifles and flaming arrows, and Jimmy was gone, as was the stock and the log house.

They were Comanche warriors, but Arthur blamed me as I had Indian blood and we moved, intending to join a wagon train headed deeper west. Arthur never got to see the west though, as he was killed in a shooting at the saloon two days before the train pulled out. Mother cried hard, but I couldn't tell if it was from grief, or fear at being alone and poor. I cried not at all. I was glad!

My Papa had taught me never to cry, saying firmly 'the People do not shed tears little Kimimela, we are proud, strong. Tears belong to the weak.' As he had no sons my Papa had loved me all the more and when alone, just he and I, he taught me many things that most Indian girls never learned. 'You walk two worlds little Kimimela,' he'd said 'so you must know much to be faster, stronger, braver than others. You must be better, so that you will be more worthy, more desirable, and the white inside you will be unimportant. You are Yanktonai, the daughter of Napayshni.'

So I'd learned to shoot a rifle, I'd learned to sneak up unseen and unheard on prey, and I could ride a horse and use a bow and arrow. I could cook and sew, weave baskets, work a garden, and I'd even made a war shirt for my Papa of all his scalps. That was also why, under close supervision, Papa had allowed Mamma to teach me the white man's words. 'You need every advantage,' he'd said 'and knowing the tongue of our enemies will serve you well.' At seven, when Mamma had stolen us away, I was totally immersed in my world, and loved every moment of my life.

Now, I lay silent and still in the back of the wagon, my eyes softly closed, and hiding from the worried and insightful gaze of my mother. She knew I was still angry with her, but she was patient and understanding with me. I wanted to go home, and I'd said as much many times, but Mamma told me home was with the white people, not the Indian nation.

~~~

"Jaynie? Honey, wake up," her gentle hand on my shoulder woke me, and with a start I sat up rubbing my eyes.

We'd been travelling for over two months now. I didn't bother to tell her I didn't like my white name, but she refused to call me by my proper name, she never had. 'Kimimela is too obvious Jaynie, and people can be cruel. Leave it behind sweetheart, and try to blend in.' I didn't want to blend in, I was proud to be different! I said as much, but she only stroked my hair and smiled a little sadly. I held my tongue on the rest of my words; I didn't want to see Mamma sad. I'd swallowed my resentment and pretended to be happy.

"Jaynie, get up, it's time to eat. We've stopped for a quick meal."

She helped me up and I stepped outside the wagon and looked around at the other passengers. Fifteen families, but only nine children, including me and of the other eight, six were boys. They never played with me, but often taunted me and made fun of me when safely out of adult hearing. I ignored them, and the two girls too. What use did I have for them anyway? They were silly and soft, crying at any little thing and whining of the heat and the long dusty trail. I was Yanktonai, a daughter of the great Napayshni, and I was better than that!

"Jaynie, are you listening to me?" Mamma's voice brought me back to the moment "Go wash your face then come and help me."

She gestured to the water barrel hanging from our wagon and I obediently went and scooped out enough for the task, splashing the cold liquid over my face and neck and then scrubbed my hands. Mamma liked me to be clean before I ate, and I liked the water. I was drying my face when I felt a presence behind me and turned slowly and looked up into a friendly pair of gray eyes.

"Afternoon Jaynie, how's the passenger today?" it was a deep, smooth voice, with an easy friendly smile.

I had no reason to dislike Frank Colter, but I did.

"Fine sir," was my short, uninviting answer.

A smile touched the corners of his mouth for he was well used to my stiff responses. He'd known the moment we'd laid eyes on each other that we would likely never be close, not unless I came to completely trust him. Neither of us figured that would ever happen, but I've got to admit, that Mister Colter never did give up trying to win me over.

"Your Ma is waiting for you, I reckon you'd best hurry along," he told me.

I said nothing to that but circled around him and walking away. I heard a low chuckle from behind me and straightened my shoulders. I didn't like that he was amused by me, but I told myself it was better to be laughed at than beaten. Arthur Fells had been of the latter mind, though Mamma had done her best to protect me. I comforted myself with the thought that if my father had been able to put hands on Arthur Fells he'd still be dead right now.

The short break went by rather quickly, as the women were accustomed to and ready for quick meal preparation as the men were always hungry. Frank sat next to Mamma and I sat across from them, though I dearly wanted to snuggle under Mamma's arm. I wouldn't show myself so weak though, not in front of Mamma's new man. The wagon train wouldn't let a single woman with a child along, even if she had the provisions and the wagon already. Every wagon needed a man she was told. Arthur Fells was dead, but Frank Colter was going west too, and it was only him and his horse. He'd seen Mamma, learned of her dilemma and made her an offer. Mamma didn't hesitate long before saying yes, and they were married.

Frank Colter was a tall man, taller than Papa was, with gray eyes and near black hair. He was big, with broad shoulders and long arms, his face browned by the hot sun. He had the kind of face that easily smiled and was open and friendly. I understood he was considered handsome, as I'd seen some of the women glancing at him with hopeful smiles. After he married Mamma they still looked, but with bitter disappointment.

I also saw how Mamma looked at him and I knew she liked him, she liked him very well. I think maybe that's what made me dislike him so much, and the more she liked Frank, the less I did. Mamma was hoping I would warm to him. She was all things soft and gentle, comforting and loving, and I'd never had a time when I could not turn to her for a kiss or a hug, though I almost never did so.

Mamma and Frank spoke quietly, though in no way excluding me and often Mamma would glance at me and smile. They were speaking of the long march across the vast openness of the plains without cover. They were worried of Indian attack. For the first time I took an interest, as Frank said something I didn't know I'd been waiting to hear.

"Most Indians are giving up," he said to Mamma "They've been defeated too many times by soldiers, and there aren't enough war chiefs to lead them in war against the whites."

"I wish we could get along with them" Mamma sighed softly and I shot a dark glance at her, and she noticed it. So did Frank. "I have plenty reason to hate the Indians," she said softly to no one in particular "But I do not. They have lived in these lands for many years, it's not right we just shove them aside in our quest for more land."

"Most people would agree with you Jenny," Frank told her "but it's those few who don't that stir everything up, and we all have to pay for that. Indians don't distinguish between those who want peace and those who don't care. All they've seen is waves of whites coming into their hunting grounds and tribal lands, pushing them off their own ground. I reckon they responded they only way they knew how. It's sad, but it's gone too far to stop now. Battle on Wolf Mountain hit the Cheyenne and Sioux pretty hard. Colonel Miles headed up the soldiers against Crazy Horse and Two Moons, and he managed to beat them back over and over.

"Come near the end, he ordered the use of artillery shells against the Indians, and with the worsening weather, Crazy Horse pulled out. He was losing too many men to keep fighting a losing battle. It broke the Indian's back, 'cause they learned the weather isn't going to stop the soldiers from fighting, and winning. The Cheyenne and Sioux started slipping away after that, some headed back to their reservations, others followed Crazy Horse in a retreat. I heard he eventually went into Camp Robinson to talk peace, and they killed him." Frank paused then, shaking his head. "It's a shame."

I felt myself go completely still while Frank spoke, and a cold hand of panic squeezed over my heart. Papa...he'd spoken of Crazy Horse with admiration and approval. The handsome warrior had visited my village several times and I remembered him as kind and gentle, yet with a fierceness lurking just under the surface. He was a younger version of my father, but a warrior born to lead. Had he led Papa to his death also?

"Jaynie, honey, are you alright?" I just looked at Mamma and she understood at once. "Jaynie..."

I didn't allow her to finish, I couldn't bear to, for if she said those words I would not be able to stop my tears. I promised myself I would never cry in front of Frank, nor show any weakness. I jumped to my feet and ran away, ignoring her calls behind me.

I ran swiftly from the circled wagons, heading for a cluster of aspens that grew along the banks of a thin river. I stumbled into the shade and fell to my knees keening softly, hot tears in my eyes. I had told myself that someday, somehow, I would find a way home. I would return to Papa and my own people, but, what if he was dead? He would have died with honor, fighting bravely, but still, once dead he was beyond my reach, and my heart ached for him. I wrapped my arms tightly about my knees, burying my face away from the suddenly harsh light of day.

"Jaynie?" Frank's voice made my head snap up and I instantly turned away, wiping tears from my face.

"Your Ma is worried about you," he said quietly, settling a little distance from me. "Perhaps we should get you back,"

I didn't answer him, refusing to even look his way, though in truth it was because I still had many tears in my eyes.

"You're worried over your Pa, is that it?" his words startled me, and I stiffened.

"Jenny told me about him, what a great warrior he is among the Sioux," I heard him pause and shift as he settled to his haunches. "I've heard the name of Napayshni, a brave and strong warrior among his people."

I stole a sideways glance at Frank and found him absently picking at the grass at his feet. He spoke again as though he was commenting on the weather, or trail conditions.

"I met up with the Sioux from time to time, had us some real differences of opinion too, as they wanted my scalp and I was more'n a little attached to it. We fought many times, but they're a brave people, honorable." He glanced at me casually "I respect them as men, as fighters and great hunters. I only fought back to stay alive."

When I didn't answer he continued.

"Jaynie, you're a youngster still, not eleven yet, and there's whole heap of things you don't know. One thing that you should learn and learn quick is that there's good and bad folks in every kind of people, whether white, Indian, black, and whoever else you're likely to meet up with. You're Pa is a good man by Indian standards, that I've heard myself, and I believe it. Just 'cause some people want the natives pushed off their lands to leave room for settlers don't mean we all feel that way. I've lived for a time among the Cherokee, and I learned a great deal and enjoyed every moment. I got nothing against you, your Pa, or your people. I'm sure that if he was here with you, or you with him, Napayshni would tell you the same."

At last I had steadied my voice enough to risk speech.

"Is he dead?" When Frank didn't answer right away I looked over at him and he met my eyes.

"I heard he was in on the last skirmish with Crazy Horse, but I don't know if he survived or not."

"I'm glad he fought, I hope he killed many white soldiers!" I said it just to see how Frank would react.

Frank Colter's gaze didn't waver, nor did his voice change when he answered me.

"He probably did Jaynie, and if he's in the happy huntin' grounds now he got there by stepping over the bodies of his enemies."

I ignored the hand he offered to help me up, but I obediently followed my mother's husband back to the wagon train. Mamma looked sharply at me but I wouldn't meet her eyes. Frank only smiled a little and winked an eye at her as the call came and the wagons moved out, heading on toward the wide open prairies before us. Frank rode his gelding alongside the wagon, ranging from side to side, and occasionally scouting ahead. I sat inside for a long time, and then grew bored and climbed out to sit at Mamma's side. After a moment she looked down at me and smiled.

"Why don't you drive for a while Jaynie?" she offered and I took the reins.

Jimmy had taught me to handle a team, and I liked it. The mules had their noses pointed due west and they were strong and hardy creatures. Mamma sat quietly for a while, then dropped her arm over my shoulders pulling me into a hug, pressing a kiss against the dark thickness of my hair. I would never have allowed that in front of anyone, but at the moment I wanted her reassurance badly. She was the only thing in my world right then that I'd had all my life.

"I love you sweetheart," she murmured. "I know you are still angry because I took you away from your father, but I couldn't leave you behind. I would be lost without you,"

"You didn't have to stay with Arthur!" I retorted softly in Nakota, not wanting to hurt her feelings. "He hated me!"

"Use your English Jaynie, please. I know he disliked you honey, I know that now, but I didn't see what choice I had then. Arthur was willing to care for us, and that was an opportunity I couldn't refuse. We had to have a place to live and food to eat." She tilted my face up and looked at me, her beautiful green eyes wide and honest. "I did what I thought was right. I'm sorry it's not what you wanted."

I couldn't be mad at her right then, not with her looking so lovingly at me, the sweet smell of her skin in my nostrils and her arms about me. I bit my lips to keep them from trembling.

"I...it's just I miss Papa..." I stammered softly, tears once again pushing at my eyes.

"I know you do," she pulled me close as I buried my face into her, letting my tears stain her dress. "I know you miss him Jaynie and I'm sure wherever he is, he misses you too."