The Savage Ones

For clarity, the Sioux words used are spelled phonetically, to the best of my ability so you, dear reader, will know what they sound like and be able to read and 'hear' them easier.

~Sara

After school, Nettie and I walked silently along the edge of the dirt track leading back toward where I lived. Our footsteps were soft, padded by the green grass, no sound but the song of the nearby thrushes. When Miss Hazel had dismissed the class, I had been made to stay behind while she wrote out a brief note for my mother. Knowing what it would say, I had stuffed it into my skirt pocket without a second glance. Nettie had waited outside, and asked no questions until we were nearly to my home.

"You gonna get in trouble?" her voice was small, soft, and I slid my eyes over to look without turning my head. Nettie was watching the grass at her feet as we went along, her hands behind her back, holding onto her lunch pail. I shrugged faintly.

"I don't know. Mamma...she doesn't like when I fight, and I promised I would be good, but-" I stopped suddenly, ashamed of myself. Excuses were for the weak. "Yes. She will be angry."

I had made a solemn vow a long time ago, and ever since I began attending school with the other children, I had done nothing but break that promise. Mamma had never said anything, but now I could see her disappointment with me. It tainted everything she did for me, every interaction we had. I felt my heart squeeze tight, guilt eating at me. Nettie had found an ant mound, sending the tiny bugs into a panic with the toe of her shoe.

"Tell her it was for me, that you was protectin' me." He face was earnest, sincere. "She can't be mad at you for that."

"I will be fine." My tone had changed abruptly, unused to someone else caring whether I got in trouble or not. I tried to soften my reply. "I mean, do not trouble yourself. My mother has been angry before."

"Well," Nettie's grin was lopsided. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yes."

She turned and trudged off through the tall grass along a thin trail that wound up into the sloping foothills above the small valley we called home. I watched until she disappeared from sight then headed home. As I crossed the small brook that ran between the road and home, a sudden chill touched my back, prickles of unease that raced up and down my spine. A small scuff, the sigh of grass under soft feet- I whirled around, ready to face whoever was sneaking up behind me, but no one was there. Eyes searching the area, I saw nothing, heard nothing, but I could feel a gaze on me, the weight of someone's, or something's, stare.

Head up, shoulders back, I turned and continued on my way. Behind me I could catch faint sounds, tiny indications of pursuit, but I would not turn. There were few things that could catch me by surprise, and I had a cautious hope of what this new presence was. Maybe I was foolish, but I was ready to believe if it meant what I'd always dreamed could come true. It felt like an Indian. A smile tugged at the edge of my mouth, but it faded when I heard Frank's voice call to me from half a dozen yards away, and I looked up.

"Hey Butterfly!" he was sweating, an axe over one shoulder, a rifle in the other hand. There was a large pile of chopped wood stacked behind him. "You're a tad late comin' home aren't you?"

"Yes sir." I felt my spine stiffen as the muscles in my neck tightened. I could never anticipate what his reaction to my fighting would be. His gray eyes lingered over my face for a moment then he nodded, expelling his breath in a long sigh. Coming to my side, he knelt down to one knee, his hand held out.

"Let's see it then."

Without a word I pulled the note from my pocket and put it into his gloved hand, expressionless. I watched as he read it, twice. Folding the paper, Frank rose, tipping his head toward the house.

"I'm of a mind to let this stay between us, but your ma will want to know where you've been, and I don't figure to lie to her."

"Yes sir."

We walked quietly for a few paces then he stopped, shaking his head as he looked down at me.

"I can't figure you Kimimela. Why do you always fight? Those kids aren't a match for you, not really, and it's beneath you to pick on them."

"I don't like them." I answered vaguely, not seeing the need to explain. Aware his expression was hardening into a frown, I shrugged a shoulder.

"You can't go hitting people just because you don't like them, Butterfly. You know that. What would your pa say?"

"That once I had them down, I should have killed them."

Lips twisted into a faint scowl, Frank shook his head again, the lines around his eyes deep.

"There's a time to act, a time to strike and strike hard, but there's also a time to talk, to reason, or to ignore. Growing up is about learnin' the difference, an' girl, you got a lot of growin' up to do yet."

I kept my face apathetic as I shrugged again, outwardly dismissing what he'd said, but inwardly I cringed. I knew he was right. Papa had taught me a great warrior knows when to attack, and when to hold back, but lately- a shiver of disappointment ran along my arms and up my neck. My feet had frequently trodden the warpath, and Napayshni would likely not be proud of me. Would a mighty bear respond to the yapping of stray dogs?

"Try not to upset her, Butterfly," Frank was still talking, and I glanced his way. "Your ma, she doesn't need to fret right now, for the baby's sake. You ken?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Go on then, and give her the note. I'll be along in a while."

That meant he would let me confront my mother alone without interference, and face her anger on my own. That didn't bother me. I would rather not have a witness to the crushing weight of my mother's disappointment in me, but that did not make the short walk to the front door any easier. Turning the handle, I slipped inside, looking for her. She was asleep.

Closing out the still cool drafts of spring, I crept over to the side of her rocking chair, looking down at her face. Mamma was pretty, especially sleeping. I could not remember ever having seen anything as lovely. I knew I had to wake her, and dreaded having to do it. My fingertips barely brushed over the fabric of her arm.

"Ee'nah (mother)?" the whisper was like spring mist. "Ee'nah?"

"Mmm?" her hum was a soft reply, eyelashes fluttering as she gradually woke. "Jaynie?"

"Ee'nah, kee k'tah yea."

"English, Jaynie," she corrected. "Use your English."

My fingers tightened into fists at the rebuff, but quelling it I took a deep breath.

"This is for you." I pushed the note at her and stepped back, preparing to face her wrath. Mamma's cheeks flushed pink as she read, her eyes stony pebbles when at last she looked up.

"Why, Jaynie." It was not a question. "Over and over I tell you not to fight, and- and this-!" the paper crumpled in her hand as she stood, abruptly angry. "Why must you always disobey!"

"They started it-" I protested, thinking to explain they boys' attack on Nettie. Mamma waved away my words.

"It does not matter who started it! You are always so quick to violence, to hit when you should be still! Why can't you just behave like a proper young lady?"

"Because I am not white."

There was an instant of absolute silence as Mamma's face drained of color, her lips pressed hard together. I met her stare boldly, knowing deep down my father was the reason for this irritation, not me. I was merely the one around to blame. Our gazes clashed fiercely, a battle of will that was insulting and infuriating to my mother. Her slap was fast, but I knew it was coming and did not move. Incensed by my defiance, she slapped me again, harder. Cheek stinging, I held my ground, shoulders squared head up, tears gathering force in my eyes. My jaw grit together as I stared directly at her, feeling my lips curl into a snarl of hurt disgust. Determination to make no sound flooded me. She was about to strike me again when a soft clearing of a throat stopped her.

"Take it easy Jenny." Frank was in the doorway, his eyes somber. "She's just a girl yet."

Those beautiful green eyes flashed like summer lightning, and Mamma turned her gaze back to me. I felt my stomach flop at the look in them.

"Get out of my sight."

Wordlessly, I turned and swiftly climbed the ladder up to my loft, sinking down to my bed. My body shook with the force of my restraint, holding back the flood of tears. I hated it when Mamma was angry with me, hated that flat, cold look in her eyes, but lately that was the only response I got from her. A half breed...that's the look she'd given me, I was nothing but a dirty half breed. Heart aching, stomach cramped, I buried my face deep into my pillow and sobbed.

"What are we going to do Frank?" her irritated voice penetrated my grief, and I wiped my eyes, looking up, taking care not to sniffle.

"Just keep trying, honey. That's all we can do."

"I won't have that attitude around the baby Frank. She's got to learn, to understand I will not tolerate her behavior. What will people say?"

"She's a half breed Jenny, trying to make her way in a white man's world. Her early training was spent in a Sioux village, and that's what she knows and loves. It's hard to let go of the past."

"That was years ago, Frank! Don't make excuses for her-!"

"I'm not." His firm tone stopped her rebuke. "I'm trying to understand why she acts the way she does, and make allowances where I can. You should too."

"Are you seriously telling me how to raise my own daughter?" I had rarely heard Mamma sound so indignant. "If you think I'll tolerate that from anyone, you have a lot to learn Frank Colter!"

"You don't need be to be told, Jenny," his voice was patient. "But...sometimes you need to be reminded. What happened to the woman who stood up for her girl in the middle of a wagon train? The woman who, with no gentle touch, slapped a man in the mouth and called him a pig because of his prejudice toward Indians? That's the woman Jaynie needs right now. I'm just saying to think about it."

Her reply was interrupted by a soft knock on the door, a gentle, hesitant sound that made them both look up. Frank went and opened it, and as I was looking through the railing of the loft, the front door blocked my view.

"Evenin'."

"Mistah Coltah?"

"Yes."

"Name's Jeb, suh, Jeb Sadlah."

"Pleasure. What can I do for you Sadler?"

"I come by to thank your girl for standin' up for my Nettie today. She tol' me about the fightin', an' how them boys were fixin' to beat her up 'til your girl stepped in. I wanted to say thank you. Nettie ain't a got a mean bone in her body, an' it woulda been hard on her. Not many folks would stand up for our kind."

There was a moment of absolute silence, Frank recovering first.

"Much obliged, Sadler. Jaynie's a good girl, but she's sleeping right now, or I'd have her come down."

"Musta wore herself out then, sweet chil'." I still could not see him, but warmth at his praise flooded my veins. "I ain't meanin' to interrupt your evenin', I just wanted to say thanks. Have a good night suh, ma'am."

I watched the door close behind him and ducked down farther as Mamma and Frank's eyes turned my way. I heard a soft sob and twitched in surprise, peering around the edge of my pillow. Mamma was dabbing her eyes with the corner of her apron, hugging her shoulders.

"My little girl, oh Frank, my baby-!"

"It's alright, Jenny. Tomorrows another day." He kissed her temple, half-smiling.

"I have to apologize," her voice was thick with tears. "Jaynie was defending another girl? Why wouldn't she just say so?"

"She's a proud little thing, got her own way of thinking on things. Maybe she didn't figure why she got into another fight was worth the mention."

"Oh...if only I'd known!" her face agonized, Mamma sank into a chair. "I slapped her so hard-"

"Jenny." Frank was gentle, his hands on her arms as he pulled her to her feet. "You can't change the past, only try not to repeat it. I think we both need to do a lot more thinking and little less assuming from now on. Jaynie is going to surprise us."

"I will," her promise was for him but meant for me and I smiled, hopeful. "I love that little girl Frank, I love her so much! It's going to be different from now on...better."

"A rambunctious girl, a lovely wife, a child on the way, does life get better than this, Missus Colter?" His tone had changed, a subtle softening that I had come to recognize. Mamma smiled, her giggle hushed as he swept her into his arms. Face twisted into childish disgust, I burrowed beneath the covers and pulled my pillow over my head. Grownups could be so hard to understand sometimes.

It was still dark when I woke the next morning, the stars outside my window faint, the sun not yet awake. Slipping into clean clothes, I made my way down from the loft, careful to make no sound. Mamma and Frank were still asleep, and I didn't wish to wake them. The hinges worked smoothly on the door as I crept outside, making only a soft click behind me as I shut it. The morning air was clean and crisp, and I drew it in deeply, closing my eyes.

Pulling my hair free of its braid, I shook it loose, liking the heavy feel of it down my back. My toes wiggled in delight as I pushed them into the dewy grass, enjoying the sensation. It had been a while. Throwing caution to the winds, I suddenly sprinted away from the cabin, racing across the yard and into the low sloping foothills. I made a wide circle around my home, running as fast as I could, hearing my heart pound in my ears. Turning, I angled for the trees, slapping the freshly budding leaves as I passed by, laughing.

My toe caught the edge of a small half-buried boulder and I stumbled, but instead of trying to catch my fall, I went with it. In a mess of tangled hair and flailing limbs, I tumbled down the gentle hillside, plopping in a giggled heap a stone's throw from the shallow brook. Crawling to it, I peered into the sluggish waters at my reflection. It was my father staring back at me, and I smiled at his memory. Rolling to my back, I looked up at the deep blue sky that was only just beginning to give way to dawn.

"Hao."

The male voice came from the other side of the creek and I jumped up, startled. Without a second thought I fled, running for the cover of reeds and thick brush, crawling deep into the tangled foliage. Heart thudding, I swallowed hard, shaking from the shock of having someone sneak up on me. A shadow moved from where the voice came from, but did not come closer.

"Hee yu wo," the call was soft, gentle, soothing. Feeling my initial fright fade, I settled closer to the ground, suspicious eyes searching the darkness. He called again, his use of my native tongue filling me with curiosity.

"Come here," he repeated.

"Blu g'choe cha ah'snee wa key yea. (I am tired so I am resting.)"

This time he laughed, a warm, friendly sound.

"In the dirt, little one?"

"Na g'chee oh wa key tay. (I am looking for my spirit.)" It was a playful retort, and he laughed again. The sound filled me with memories of home, my father's lodge, my people.

"How many summers are you?"

"Eleven." I hesitated. "How many are you?"

"More than eleven." There was a pause, then he crept into sight, slowly leaving the shadows behind him. My eyes widened for he was a boy, but old enough to have the freedom of someone almost a man. Perhaps fifteen summers. There were suddenly tears in my eyes and I rubbed them away, ashamed of myself.

"Come out," he called again.

Edging from the brush, I moved through a small rabbit's trail out the opposite side, coming into sight farther away from him. It was too dark to clearly see his expression, but for a long while neither of us moved.

"Taku enee see yapi hey? (What is your name?)" he wanted to know, but I shook my head.

"Hee yah. (No.) You are a stranger to me."

"I am called Wind Runner," he offered. "A stranger to you no more."

The sun was parting the indigo skies, washing them in pale dandelion yellow light. Glancing up, I edged away, unwilling to leave a living reminder of my past behind, yet knowing I had to. It was like music in my ears, the language of my father.

"Before the sun rises, I must be at home. My family will wonder where I have gone."

"Will you speak to me again?" he called softly after me, and I half turned, searching the fading night for his face.

"Perhaps," I answered shyly. "If I see you."

"You will see me." His promise was certain, drifting on the winds behind me as I ran for the house.