Wild Splendor

A great outdoor fire usually marked a wedding celebration, but to avoid drawing attention to those who might be at the foot of the mountain tonight, only gray, dark, and cold ashes lay in the center of the circle of Navaho, who were stiffly and quietly awaiting the moment when their chief would become one with a woman not of their skin coloring.

Leonida was trying not to let the people’s indifferent attitude toward her spoil her special day. She could often feel them glaring at her, and she herself was aware of how the Indian costume accentuated her whiteness.

She was even trying to understand why none of the captives had chosen to leave their dwellings for the marriage ceremony. If she glanced toward the lean-tos where they were living until they were set free, she could catch an occasional glimpse of a woman, or perhaps a child with eager eyes, staring out at Trevor, who was running and playing with the young Indian braves of his same age, now dressed as one of them.

Leonida feared that Trevor’s attire had been the final insult as far as the women had been concerned. She doubted now that they would ever forgive her, even though she saw herself that there was truly nothing to forgive. If they had loved as she loved Sage, they also would have followed their heart and given themselves totally to the man with a commitment for a life of loving and caring for him.

Although various dancers continued entertaining in the midst of the crowd, Trevor was having footraces with the young Navaho braves. Leonida turned and watched, marveling not only at how comfortable and accepting of his scant Indian attire Trevor seemed but also at his speed for such a young boy.

Leonida turned to Sage and touched his face gently, silently urging him to watch the youth of his village at their games. Sage followed her bidding and set his attention on Trevor. He had not seen such speed in a child in years. Strange how pride seemed to swell within him at the sight, he thought to himself, at this moment, feeling so like a father who saw the gifts of a son. Sage’s eyes gleamed as he turned to Leonida and leaned his face down close to hers.

“He will no longer be called Trevor,” he whispered to her. “He has earned the name Woodii, which means ‘runner’ in Navaho. When we speak of Runner, we speak of Trevor. Is that something you can accept? That he will no longer carry the name of a white boy around with him?”

Leonida did not speak right away, stunned to silence by Sage’s further acceptance of Trevor—he thought enough of him to give him a Navaho name. And she no longer was suspicious of his reasons for showing such affection toward the orphan. Sage no longer had to do anything to persuade her to accept him as her husband. She was only moments away from becoming his wife. His feelings toward Trevor were sincere.

Filled with emotions too numerous to separate and define, Leonida leaned into Sage’s embrace, placing her cheek on his chest, which was bare today, as was his whole body except for the briefest of breechclouts.

“Yes, I can accept your decision to call Trevor ‘Runner,’” she murmured. “I think it is wonderful that you are so involved with the child that you would give him a Navaho name.”

“He is our son, is he not?” Sage said, placing his fingers on Leonida’s shoulders to push her slightly away from him so that their eyes could meet. “He will know this in all ways Navaho.”

A squeal behind them drew their attention back to the boys at play. Leonida sucked in a breath of delight when she found that one of the other white boys had joined the fun, Adam Jones.

Leonida shifted her gaze to Sally, Adam’s mother. She had left her lean-to and was watching

the children at play. When Sally moved her eyes to Leonida and smiled at her, Leonida sighed with gratefulness. She returned the smile, knowing that if Sally’s anger had waned, so would that of the other women. She seemed to be a leader among women, so well liked that no one could refuse her anything.

“All will soon be right again between you and your friends,” Sage said, taking Leonida’s hand and lovingly squeezing it. “They are allowing themselves to relax and see that I meant them no harm. As each day progresses, they must realize it draws them closer to freedom. Soon they will walk among those who love them again and look back upon this experience as something not evil but as a learning experience—learning from it the wrong of the white man toward the Navaho and what those wrongs are forcing upon the Navaho. How could they not walk away from our village with this in their hearts and souls—that their people have wronged my people and will continue to do so, I am sure, until there is no breath left in any Navaho or any white and the world becomes barren of either?”

His words, his prediction of doom between both races of people, caused Leonida to shudder. She looked up into Sage’s dark eyes, seeing so much torment and pain, even now, on his wedding day.

“I’m sorry for so much,” she murmured. “If only I could help in some way. But I am only one person, only a woman, powerless against those who are making plans against the Navaho. If only I were a man . . .”

Sage was pleased at the way she looked in her Navaho attire. Even the headband was right for her. His gaze swept lower, seeing the swell of her breasts beneath the soft doeskin of her dress; his loins turned to fire when he thought of touching them again. Never could there be anything as soft as her breasts.

His lips trembled into a smile. “You are too much woman ever to wish to be a man,” he said, chuckling low. “There are many men in the world, but only one woman. You, white woman. You. And you are mine.”

Choked with the happiness that he was bringing her, his words like magic to her ears, Leonida sniffed back the urge to cry. But the crowd stirred, and people suddenly started clapping in time with the music and singing. A young man, hardly any older than Runner, had emerged from the crowd. Alone, he began dancing gracefully as the audience watched appreciatively. He wore a breechclout, moccasins, and a horsehair roach and feather on his head. His thumping moccasins raised clouds of dust. His head bobbed. His knees reached almost to his chest as he bent them in his dance. When he whirled around, the women of the village shouted bravo, and the men grunted loud exclamations of pride.

Then he was joined by many other children. They danced all together, or by turns, without fixed order, laughing joyously.

Leonida scarcely breathed as she saw one of the young braves coaxing Runner to join them. She covered her mouth with her hand as Runner moved among the dancers, himself laughing and carrying on as he mimicked the dancers.

Sage leaned closer to her. “Perhaps his name should be Dancer instead of Runner?” he whispered, chuckling softly. “This child already stands out from the others as special.”

This statement made Leonida a bit uneasy. She leaned close to Sage. “Does this bother you?” she whispered. “That he is performing so well, making your young braves look less skilled in the eyes of their mothers and fathers? Will this cause jealousy to grow against Trevor?”

“My people admire fortitude in anyone, no matter what their skin coloring,” Sage whispered back. “From childhood on, it is taught to be the best among those of your acquaintance. Each child strives for this. As they watch Runner, they will strive even harder. Challenges make men of boys. Winners become warriors more quickly than others. It is good to have Runner here to teach the others that they must work harder to become the best of those their same age. Yes, it is good that they are seeing this white boy as better. They will understand when they see the persistence of white men such as Kit Carson, how he might have risen above the others in his own challenges. They will work harder to fight off such challengers in the future, when they are men.”

Leonida shuddered at the mention of Kit Carson, who was ready to stop at nothing to take Sage’s freedom from him and place him in the confines of a reservation. Soon she would be Sage’s wife. This meant that she also might be doomed to a reservation.

The thought terrified her, yet then she reminded herself that when one loved as strongly as she did, she could live anywhere with her beloved. She would do everything within her power to make life more bearable for the man she loved.

Leonida and Sage’s attention were drawn to his people. Everyone had become lighthearted and accepting of their chief’s marriage to a “captive.” The young braves had ceased their dancing, and singers had stepped forth to sing to the bridal couple, making her melt with relief that perhaps she might be accepted into their hearts after all. She had to believe their change in attitude was somehow linked with Trevor and the young Navaho braves’ acceptance of him. Children could always touch people’s hearts when nothing else would.

Leonida smiled from one to the other, filled with joy. The celebrating went on for some time, until the skies were carpeted with black and the stars were like tiny twinkling beacons in the sky.

Soon the singers went back and sat down among the others. Everything became quiet as Pure Blossom appeared before Sage and Leonida, spreading a rug on the ground in front of them.