Savage Arrow

“Ho, I do,” Lone Wing said, turning his beautiful brown eyes toward the fresh graves in the distance, where the newly dead lay beneath the mounds of dirt and rocks. The rocks were used to keep animals from their loved ones.

He then turned his eyes back to Jessie. “I will be accurate in what I write,” he said. “Long years from now, when the next generation of the Fox band is curious about these times, our people will know what occurred this day. I will wait until the end of our journey to the Dakotas, and then I will go and sit alone on a bluff. As I look down upon my people while they prepare their new lodges for a new life, I will begin, truly begin, my time as Historian. I will leave nothing out about what happened here today, or on the long days of our journey.”

He swallowed hard, then gazed into Jessie’s eyes again. “I will record the names, too, of those who will die on the trail to our new assigned home,” he said. “I hope those names are few.”

“I’m so sorry that my own flesh and blood interfered so terribly in your people’s lives,” Jessie said, tears of regret stinging the corners of her eyes. “I wish it could have been different. I fear that too many of your people will be reminded of my cousin’s evil when they look at me, for I am—was—his cousin.”

She shivered as she thought about Reginald’s horrible last screams. She had to believe that although it was pitch-black in the cave, he had been able to see something that had actually frightened him to death, for moments after that scream, there had been nothing but silence.

Yes, she truly believed he had died then, for surely what he had seen, or thought he had seen, had been far worse than anything that had appeared in his nightmares.

“You are never to concern yourself about my people’s feelings for you,” Lone Wing said softly. “They see the good in you, as do I, just like my chieftain uncle. They know you had no control over how your cousin behaved. Some people are born good . . . some bad. Your cousin was one of the worst of the bad.”

“Thank you for reassuring me,” Jessie said, reaching over and hugging him. “Lone Wing, you are so dear.”

He returned the embrace; then as Jessie scooted back to where she had been sitting, he looked again at the graves.

His eyes lingered on one in particular. “I find it so hard to believe that the Old One, our people’s Historian, is dead,” he said, his voice breaking. “He was all that was good on this earth. How could anyone have killed him?”

“Those who came today and took the precious lives of your loved ones had no sense of what it is to be good,” Jessie said.

She closed her eyes as she recalled her mother and father in their caskets on the day of their funerals. How needlessly they had died.

Her jaws tightened when she envisioned the look of victory on Bulldog Jones’s ugly face, even though she had never actually seen it. She just knew that he must have felt the thrill of victory. She hoped today that look would be erased forever.

“I hope he dies slowly,” she found herself saying aloud. She opened her eyes quickly, blushing when she saw Lone Wing gazing at her.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I . . . I . . . was thinking of the day Bulldog Jones left others dead . . . my mother and father.” She hung her head. “I have to admit that I want him to feel the lingering pain of death, to know that he has killed his last victim.”

“It is only natural that you would think that,” Lone Wing said. He reached a comforting hand to her cheek. “I am fighting the same feelings. That man cannot die slowly and painfully enough to satisfy me.”

Lee-Lee had awakened and she came to sit on Lone Wing’s other side. “Lone Wing, I still cannot believe that I am with you, and that we have a long life ahead of us, together,” she said, tears sparkling in her beautiful dark eyes.

She looked over at her mother, who still slept. “Ai hao, my mother is no longer an unfortunate,” she murmured. “She is brave and free.”

That word “free” made Jessie look quickly at Lone Wing. She wasn’t sure if he felt truly free, now that his people would be living a life ruled by the United States Government.

How shamefully the government had treated the Indians. But nothing could be done now to change the past. No doubt it would be written down in history that the government had finally gotten the best of the “savages,” taming them like some would tame wild horses.

“Ho, Lee-Lee, you are free, and you will stay with me and my people and be sheltered and loved by us all,” Lone Wing said.

To him freedom was a feeling inside one’s heart. He would never allow himself to feel anything less than free, even though the United States Government might try to dictate everything his Fox band would do.

“I only wish that Tak Ming were here to feel the same freedom and love that I feel,” Lee-Lee said, a sob catching in her throat.

“Who is Tak Ming?” Jessie asked.

“My brother,” Lee-Lee murmured, as Lone Wing wiped tears from her cheeks with his fingertips. “He died on the big ship that brought us from China.” She lowered her eyes. “My brother was not a strong man. He died after only a few weeks out at sea.”

Jessie’s heart broke for the young and beautiful woman. She went over and held her in her embrace. “I can see how much you miss your brother,” she said softly. “But it is good that you and your mother made the passage alive. And now, Lee-Lee, you and your mother will never have to feel like slaves again. You will be loved by the Sioux.”

She didn’t see Lee-Lee looking past her shoulder at Lone Wing. The look in her eyes was proof that she loved the young man who had befriended her.

“I already feel very loved,” Lee-Lee said, smiling at Lone Wing through her tears.

“That is wonderful,” Jessie said. Then her heart skipped a beat as she heard horses arriving in the distance. How she hoped they were bringing her loved one back to her.

She stood quickly and stepped away from Lee-Lee and Lone Wing. Her pulse raced when she saw the riders in the distance and realized they were the Sioux, not the outlaws. She was now sure that the Sioux had been victorious and the damnable outlaw and his gang would spill no more blood.