Tales of Western Romance (23 page)

With a shake of his head, Daniel urged the
stallion further into the hills. Up here, away from any trace of
civilization, he could pretend that the Cheyenne still roamed the
hills and prairies, that he was a warrior on the scent of game. It
was foolish, and he knew it, especially for a man his age. And yet
it was what he yearned for, dreamed of, to be a warrior, a real
warrior, like his father. It was what his brothers had once longed
for, as well, until they married and had children. Long ago,
Daniel’s brother, Hawk, had met Sitting Bull. Hawk had been on the
reservation that day back in 1890 when Sitting Bull had been
killed. It was a story that had been told often when Daniel was a
boy, a story of sadness and loss.

Daniel reined the chestnut to a halt at the
top of a ridge. Leaning forward, he patted the stallion on the neck
as he looked out over the valley.

His brothers and his sister had found their
place in the world. As sheriff, Hawk was held in high regard by the
citizens of Bear Valley. Blackie’s veterinary practice was
thriving. Mary and Victoria were busy with their children and their
husbands. His parents were wrapped up in each other, as always.
Daniel knew they loved him, knew his family loved him, but he often
felt as if he didn’t belong anywhere, as if he didn’t quite fit in,
not in his family, not in the town, and not in the world around
him. He had no interest in the future, didn’t care for the present.
What called to him was the past, those long ago days when the
Cheyenne lived wild and free, when the buffalo covered the plains
in numbers so vast that it took days to ride around the southern
herd alone. The old days. He didn’t want to hear about the Shining
Times. He wanted to live them.

With a sigh, he turned the stallion back
toward home.

His father was waiting for him at the corral
when Daniel returned. Swinging out of the saddle, he began to walk
the chestnut to cool it out.

Shadow fell into step beside him. “How is he
handling?”

“
Better,” Daniel said. “I think Mr.
Henderson will be pleased with his progress.”

Shadow nodded.

Pausing, Daniel offered the reins to his
father. “Do you want to try him yourself?”

“
There is no need. Your word is good
enough for me.”

With a nod, Daniel resumed walking.

“
You are troubled,” Shadow said, coming
up beside him once again.

“
I’m fine,
neyho
.”

“
I think it would be good for you to
spend some time on the reservation with Fox Hunter.”

Daniel stared at his father. “How much
time?”

“
As much as you need.”

“
But what about the ranch? The
horses…”

Shadow lifted one brow. “I am not yet too old
to look after what is mine. If you wish to go, I will arrange
it.”

“
What will
nahkoa
say?”

“
We have already talked about it. She
does not like it, but she knows it is for the best. The decision is
yours.”

“
I want to go.” He couldn’t wait to go,
couldn’t wait to spend time with the old ones, to hear the stories
of days gone by.

With a nod, Shadow turned back toward the
corral. Daniel fell into step beside his father. For all his outer
stillness, Daniel’s insides were quivering with excitement. Soon,
he thought, soon he would be living with the Cheyenne, and while
life on the reservation was nothing like living in the old days, it
was as close as he was likely to get.

* * * * *

I didn’t like it one bit when Shadow told me
Daniel was going to the reservation to stay with Fox Hunter “for as
long as necessary”. I would have argued, I would have tried to talk
Daniel out of it, but how could I, when the arrangements had
already been made, when my son’s eyes glowed with an excitement I
had never seen before?

The whole family came to dinner the night
before Daniel was to leave. I knew it was selfish of me to want him
to stay. He was a man now, old enough, and hopefully wise enough,
to make his own decisions. But, like mothers everywhere, I was
reluctant to see my youngest child leave the nest. Mothers never
stopped worrying. I remembered the first time I had watched Daniel
ride one of our old mares around the corral when he was no more
than two or three years old. Shadow had stood nearby, smiling and
encouraging him while I had looked on from afar, worrying that the
old mare might bolt, that my son would fall, that he would break an
arm or a leg or worse. Shadow had assured me that the old mare was
as reliable as the sunrise, that Daniel was old enough to learn to
ride, and even though I had known Shadow was right, I had worried
anyway.

And now Daniel was going away. For the first
time in his life, he would be living far from home. In spite of
Daniel’s excitement, in spite of Shadow’s assurance that there was
nothing to worry about, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that I was
losing my baby, that he would be a different man when he returned
to us.

I felt a shiver of unease as the words,
If
he returned to us
, whispered through the back of my mind.

Shaking off my gloomy thoughts, I gazed at my
family. As always, I was filled with wonder by the number of people
at our table. Our sons and son-in-law were good men, strong,
honest, and hard working. They were men who revered the land, men
who knew who they were and what they were about, who treated their
wives and children with love and respect. My daughter and
daughters-in-law were wonderful wives and mothers, loyal,
supportive, and courageous in their own way, never afraid to stand
up for what they believed in.

And my grandchildren! Words failed me. I knew
all grandmothers thought their grandchildren were the handsomest,
the prettiest, the smartest, but mine really were.

I listened to the conversations around me –
the men talking horses and cattle and prohibition, the women
discussing recipes, the upcoming dance at the Grange, and the
latest fashions. A couple of the older boys were talking about Al
Capone, a gangster who had made quite a name for himself in
Chicago.

Times were certainly changing, and I wasn’t
sure they were for the better. I was glad to be living in Bear
Valley. Though we were still lacking many of the latest inventions,
we didn’t have to worry much about gangsters or strikes or anyone
opening a speak-easy.

Still, progress was slowly making its way to
our small valley. Our children no longer met in a one-room
schoolhouse. Our newspaper had carried the story of the wedding
between Douglas Fairbanks and Mary Pickford. Our older girls had
oohed and aahed over the photograph in the paper and spent several
days imagining how wonderful it would be to live in Hollywood and
socialize with movie stars, or live at Pickfair, the Fairbanks’
twenty-two room mansion in Beverly Hills, or to meet Rudolph
Valentino.

Yes, times were changing. Just last year, on
August 18th, women had been given the right to vote by the 19th
Amendment to the Constitution. Some of the men in the valley were
still grumbling about that.

Steel’s Crossing had a brand new movie
theater. It wasn’t anything like the grand movie palaces built in
California by Sid Grauman, but it was bigger than the old
nickelodeon. Shadow and I had gone to Steel’s Crossing to see John
Barrymore in
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,
and Douglas Fairbanks,
Sr. in
The Mark of Zorro
. All the women in the family were
looking forward to seeing Rudolph Valentino in
The
Sheik.

So many changes and inventions since I was a
little girl growing up in this place. We had gone from the horse
and buggy to the Model T. From the pony express to the telegraph
and telephone, from living in a buffalo hide lodge to living in a
house with running water and electricity.

I looked down the table at Shadow. He had
grown up with the Cheyenne. The changes that seemed so amazing to
me must seem even more remarkable to him.

I saw Daniel and Blackie with their heads
together, laughing at something one of the children had said, and
all thoughts of the past fled my mind.

Tomorrow, my baby was leaving home for the
first time.

Chapter 3

Daniel reined his horse to a halt when he
reached the top of a small rise. Turning in the saddle, he looked
back at the home he was leaving behind. His mother stood on the
front porch, one hand clutching the rail, her face turned toward
him. Not certain if she could see him or not, he waved anyway, felt
a tug in his heart when she waved back. He told himself he wouldn’t
be gone long, that his parents would be all right while he was
away. His brothers and sister lived close by; they would look after
the folks. But he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he might
never see his family again.

Grunting softly, he told himself he was
acting like a child leaving home for the first time. And then he
grinned. He might not be a child, but he was leaving home for the
first time.

With a last wave to his mother, he clucked to
his horse, his apprehension overcome by a sudden rush of
excitement. Fox Hunter was waiting for him.

He rode all that day. For all that Bear
Valley had grown, once Daniel left home behind, there was little
sign of civilization other than a few scattered ranches. Herds of
cattle now grazed the land that had once been inhabited by the
buffalo.

The land was lush and green. Wildflowers made
vibrant splashes of color on the hillsides – white and yellow, pink
and lavender. There were stands of cottonwoods along the rivers and
streams. Talking trees, the Indians called them.

He rode for several hours, feeling as though
he were seeing the countryside for the first time even though he
had hunted these same hills with his father and his brothers for as
far back as he could remember. And even though he had gone hunting
on his own since he was fifteen, being out here now was different
somehow, though he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was because he was
going to be gone for more than a few days. Whatever the reason, he
felt like he was truly on his own for the first time in his life.
It was a good feeling.

If something went wrong, his father wouldn’t
be there to help him out. Mary wouldn’t be there to offer advice.
Blackie wouldn’t be there to make jokes. Hawk wouldn’t be there to
reassure him. He grinned. If he got hurt, his mother wouldn’t be
there to kiss it and make it better. No, this time he was really,
truly, on his own.

When he found a shady spot near a shallow
stream, he reined his horse to a halt. Dismounting, he dropped to
his hands and knees and took a long drink of the cool clear water,
and then let his horse drink.

He ground-reined the big bay mare, then
pulled a roast beef sandwich out of his saddlebag. He ate while
walking along the stream, drank again, then swung into the saddle,
eager to be on his way.

He rode until dusk, then stripped the rigging
from the bay. After hobbling the mare, he gathered wood for a fire
and set about making dinner.

Later, stretched out on his bedroll, he
stared up at the sky, his gaze following the path of the Milky Way.
The Cheyenne called it
ekutsihimmiyo
, the Hanging Road. The
People believed that the souls of the departed traveled the Hanging
Road to
Seyan
, the Place of the Dead. All who died went to
Seyan
to live with
Heammawihio
, except for those who
had taken their own lives. For all others, there was no reward and
no punishment. In the Place of the Dead, all were equal. In
Seyan
, the dead lived as they lived on earth.

Daniel remembered a story his father had once
told, about a young Cheyenne warrior who got very sick. The warrior
was unconscious for three days and during that time, he believed
that he traveled the Hanging Road to
Seyan
, though he never
reached the camp of his ancestors. Along the way, the warrior spoke
with his father, who had died in battle the year before, and with a
younger brother who had died of one of the white man’s diseases,
but no matter how far the warrior walked, he was never able to
reach the camp. He kept trying, and he met many people he knew
along the way, but before he could reach the camp, he regained
consciousness. Sitting up, he told the people what he had seen – of
numerous scaffolds holding drying meat, snug lodges pitched along
the shores of a quiet river, women tanning hides, men working on
their weapons, children playing happily.

Daniel let out a sigh. It was difficult
sometimes, walking two paths, never quite knowing what to believe.
Still, the Cheyenne’s belief in
Seyan
was not all that
different from his mother’s belief in Heaven, except that the
Christian religions preached that only the “good” people would make
it into Heaven. Sometimes, he wondered which was right, his
mother’s beliefs or his father’s. But not tonight. Tonight he was
more concerned with life than death, more interested in his future
than the past. He knew his mother was worried about him. She wanted
him to find a nice young woman and fall in love, marry, and settle
down the way his brothers and sister had. It was what he wanted,
too, but so far he hadn’t found the right woman. His father had
assured him that, when he met the right woman, he would know
it.

With a grin, Daniel closed his eyes. Out
here, he was Blue Hawk, the warrior, and whoever his future wife
might be, she would have to wait until he returned from the
reservation and became Daniel once again. He was confident that all
his questions would be answered, all his doubts would be resolved,
and that he would learn which life path he should take while he was
in the company of the Old Ones on the reservation.