White Fire

When she got inside the cabin, she stopped and gaped openly at the child who was on a chair in the darker shadows. She was curled up, fast asleep, a wooden, carved horse clutched in her right hand.

She quickly recognized the child. It was Dancing Star, Song Sparrow’s daughter.

She looked quickly at Gray Feather again. “Why is she here?” she asked softly, trying to keep her voice low enough so that she would not awaken the child.

“I have brought her to White Fire,” Gray Feather said sullenly. “She is now his responsibility.” His eyes narrowed as he looked intently at Flame. “You said that you were at my village. While there, were you told of my daughter’s death?”

Flame slowly nodded. “Yes, I know of your daughter’s death,” she murmured. “I am so sorry, Gray Feather. So very sorry.”

“You know why she died?” he said flatly. “How she died?”

She nodded. “Yes, I know both things,” she said, swallowing hard. She had a desperate need to flee, for she knew not what to expect next from this powerful Chippewa chief. If he was toying with her . . .

“Then you know why my grandchild is here,” Gray Feather said, giving Dancing Star a soft glance.

“No, not really,” Flame said, scarcely breathing as Gray Feather went and leaned over and swept Dancing Star into his arms.

When the child awakened and smiled up at him, Flame saw the affection, the undying love each had for the other.

This made it hard for her to understand why the chief would be compelled to give her up so easily to be raised by someone not of their village. Not of their blood.

“Why is this child now White Fire’s responsibility?” she blurted out.

“Because my daughter took her own life,” Gray Feather said, his voice breaking. “She died in sin. My granddaughter is a part of that sin. And because White Fire is the cause of my daughter’s death, he must now assume responsibility of my daughter’s child.”

Trying so hard to understand everything, Flame’s head was spinning.

And she knew that the longer they stood there discussing things other than White Fire’s release, the chances grew slimmer that he would be alive.

“You are White Fire’s chosen woman,” Gray Feather said. He took the child over and held her out to Flame. “That makes my grandchild also your responsibility. She will be raised as your daughter.”

Stunned speechless by what he was saying, and by his reasoning, Flame stood there fore a moment staring at Dancing Star. Then when she saw that Chief Gray Feather was serious, she saw no other choice but to take the child.

When Dancing Star moved easily, trustingly into her arms, Flame’s heart went out to her. Her heart was melted by the child’s sweet smile and by how she snuggled into her arms, as though she belonged there.

“Now tell me everything about White Fire,” Gray Feather said, taking Flame by an elbow, and leading her to the blankets spread on the floor before the fireplace. “I see that you need rest before we leave again to do what must be done for him. While taking the time to rest, tell me everything.”

So glad to be off her feet, and still holding Dancing Star in her arms, Flame blurted out the story of when she and White Fire were surrounded by the soldiers.

“You are going to help him, aren’t you?” Flame questioned, when she saw that hearing everything had caused the old chief to go quiet, his eyes now watching the dancing flames of the fire.

When he still said nothing, fear began to flow into Flame’s heart that he might have decided against putting his people in danger by helping one man escape from Fort Snelling. Was he thinking that White Fire was not worth the chance it would take to get him from the soldiers? Did he see that a war between his people and the soldiers might be started?

“If we can’t get White Fire free without a fight, there might be a war between your people and the soldiers,” Flame blurted out. “I know this and I hate to think it might happen. But we must chance anything and everything to set White Fire free. He doesn’t deserve to be deserted in such a way. He doesn’t deserve to die.”

Still Gray Feather said nothing.

Anger—a bitter rage—entered Flame’s heart to think that this chief was going to ignore everything that she had said, and abandon a man who was the epitome of kindness.

“Do you now hate White Fire so much that you would allow him to die needlessly?” she said, her voice drawn. “Because of your daughter, will you allow him to die?”

She picked Dancing Star up and held her out for the chief. “Here,” she said, her voice breaking, “she belongs with you. Not with me. Without White Fire, the child—”

Chief Gray Feather looked quickly over at Flame. “Keep the child,” he said, his voice a low grumble. His eyes were flashing angrily. “She is yours and White Fire’s, forevermore.”

More confused by the comment, Flame’s eyes wavered. “But if you do nothing to help him, how can the child be his?” she murmured.

“Did I say that I would do nothing to help him?” the chief growled out.