Some waited on horseback. Others rested on the banks of the river next to their beached canoes.
White Fire knew the Indians in the area well enough. He mentally counted how many Sioux were there waiting on Chief Shining Turtle. There were several Sioux from many bands.
It was at this moment that he realized that by having urged the colonel to give the Sioux the provisions, he had averted an attack on Fort Snelling. It was apparent, by how the Sioux were armed and by how many there were, that they had come together to help the Sioux chief who had lost so much. They had been ready to launch an attack had Chief Shining Turtle returned to them with nothing.
Sweat pearled White Fire’s brow to realize just how close the fort had come to becoming the target of the Sioux’s anger.
He looked over his shoulder in the direction of the fort, where the woman he loved was trustingly within its walls, unknowing of the threat that lay so close.
He shuddered and looked in another direction, toward Pig’s Eye, where his son would have surely died also, had the Sioux become enraged enough to spill white men’s blood today.
Loud, mocking laughter brought White Fire’s eyes around again. He stared at the Sioux as they opened the many bundles of provisions and showed them to their friends.
His eyes widened when the Sioux laughed even more loudly and mockingly as one by one they ripped up the blankets with their large knives, then spilled the food across the ground and stomped on it.
White Fire now truly knew the danger the people in this area had been in. The Sioux had not truly wanted the provisions! It had been a test. Only a test to see how far they could push the white eyes.
He numbly watched until the Sioux were finished with their fun. He was glad when they all embraced, then departed, traveling in all directions on their horses and in their canoes. For now, it seemed the Sioux had been appeased.
“But for how long?” White Fire whispered, a chill riding his spine.
Chapter 17
I wonder by my troth what thou and I
Did, till we loved? Were we not weaned till then
But sucked in country pleasures, childishly?
—John Donne
White Fire had left the fort after having found just the right pony to buy for his son, Michael. The more he had thought about Michael and how he was being raised in velvet breeches and curls, the more he had known that some of that money that he had hidden in his chimney would be well spent on a way to introduce his son to the “other world” from which he had been kept.
White Fire shuddered inwardly at the thought of his son’s face being so pale, which meant that rarely did he go out of doors to play in the sun.
“I will change that and many more things,” White Fire whispered to himself as he rode into the outskirts of Pig’s Eye.
But things weren’t happening fast enough and he hated practicing the art of restraint. Yet he knew that it was best for Michael if things went slowly. He would be less traumatized than being whisked from one family to another. White Fire would work him into it gradually.
When White Fire saw the Greer mansion at the side of the road, he drew rein, and stopped. He winced. He hated having to go and knock on the door like a total stranger when, in truth, his son was in that house.
And he dreaded coming face-to-face with Maureen Greer again. She was cold, and it was obvious that she was going to fight him every inch of the way where Michael was concerned.
When White Fire felt eyes on him, he shifted his gaze to the upper windows of the two-story stone house. His heart skipped a beat when he found Michael standing at a window, holding the curtains aside as he peered down.
White Fire’s insides lurched when Michael suddenly left the window, as though someone had purposely grabbed him and yanked him away.
That made White Fire even more determined to get his son out of that house today, if only for a short while. He would go horseback riding with him. He would be excited over having a pony of his very own.
His spine stiff, his blood throbbing nervously through his veins, White Fire dismounted. On foot, he led his horse and the pony down the narrow gravel drive.
When he reached the house, he tethered the steeds to the hitching rail. Without hesitation, he went and boldly knocked on the door.
When no one answered, White Fire understood that he was being ignored. This made him even more adamant that he would see his son today, that he would be with him, that he would give him his special gift.
And if Maureen and George Greer were not more gracious about this, White Fire would give up on taking it a day at a time with his son. He would whisk him away today and be in his right to do so. He was the boy’s blood kin. No judge in America would deny him the child.
But not wanting to get into a court battle over Michael knowing that it might damage him forever, White Fire stood his ground and knocked until his knuckles grew sore.