Little Flower Read online

  Her father had not come alone to claim her. Two Indian agents had come with him to impress upon Chief Beaver how important it was to give up the white girl. They now mounted their horses, preparing to depart with Mr. Radford and his daughter.

  Talking Dog watched on with a smirk on his lips. At least now, he would not be challenged by Gray Wolf over what he had done. Gray Wolf would never discover it. It was all for the best, he thought.

  Merry Morning was even happier. She was glad that Little Flower’s father had come while Gray Wolf was away. That way he could not follow and pilfer her away from her rightful father. Little Flower belonged with her people and Gray Wolf belonged with his. Now it was certain he would choose her after the Sun Dance was performed.

  Merry Morning’s heart lifted. It had been a curse for that white girl to join their tribe. She had changed everything. Even Talking Dog wanted her! For all she knew all the braves wished they had her. She had to admit, sheepishly, that Little Flower was the most beautiful woman she had ever laid eyes on, and it had been her bad luck that Gray Wolf happened upon her those many years ago. She felt a heavy weight lifting from her shoulders as she watched the white man put Little Flower in his wagon.

  Blake Radford climbed onto the driver’s bench, after placing Daisy in the back of the wagon, and clicked his tongue at the mules pulling it. The two Indian Agents rode their horses beside his wagon, but they would only remain with them through Indian Territory and then leave them to travel the rest of the way on their own. It wasn’t as dangerous as it used to be, now that the different tribes were forced to allow travelers to cut through their land. The Shoshone had been helpful in protecting travelers from the more dangerous tribes, Sioux being one of them. However, the Sioux would not cause trouble for them. Chief Beaver had put his mark on the agreement to allow Daisy to leave his tribe. No one would try to take revenge. After all, Mr. Radford had paid a handsome ransom. He had also paid the reward to Becky Granger, the woman who had told Mr. Radford where his daughter could be found.

  There had been several other children captives that had been returned to their families over the years. However, many of them had run away from their white families and returned to the tribe who had raised them from children. The Indian agents could not understand how those white captives, after being saved, would choose to live in squalor with a bunch of Indians, rather than staying with the family that loved them and offered them so much more.

  Little Flower huddled on her cot, hugging Lucky to her. It seemed strange, lying on a bed. She had been used to sleeping on the ground, a buffalo hide beneath her, and soft buffalo robes covering her. She had to keep reminding herself that she was Daisy now. The name seemed foreign to her. It had all but been forgotten. She swallowed hard, trying to put the thought of Gray Wolf out of her turbulent mind. He wouldn’t even tell her if he still loved her or not, before he left on the hunt. Maybe he didn’t love her anymore. Maybe her father had come just in time to save her from heart ache, even if Talking Dog hadn’t touched her.

  However, she knew she would never forget Gray Wolf and wondered if he would forget about her. She had to admit that he probably would. His Indian life would take up his thoughts and he would take Merry Morning for his wife. Merry Morning must be ecstatically happy now, she thought sadly to herself. It had been her doing to bring Daisy’s father to the Sioux village. She tried to tell herself that perhaps Merry Morning had done her a favor, yet the pain in her heart didn’t feel like she had.

  “How are you doing back there, Daisy?” her father’s voice made her jump. She almost didn’t know who Daisy was and had to stop herself from correcting him, claiming she was Little Flower.

  “Hemaca lila waste,” she murmured, then realized she was speaking Sioux. “I am good,” she said in English.

  “You sounded like a real Indian there, for a moment,” her father mumbled. “We will make it up to you, though. It was a lucky thing that Becky happened to see you at the fort, and that Indian girl told her who you were.”

  “Yes, I remember seeing Becky only I didn’t recognize her. She and her friend had been staring at me, though.”

  “I have been searching for you ever since you got lost. I rode back to try and find you, but there was no sign of you. I had people asking various Indian tribes if they had seen you, but I didn’t think to go as far as Fort Laramie to look for you.”

  “Fort Laramie is quite a distance from the Sioux village, as you well know, even though our village has moved several times over the years. We had traveled there to do some trading. I helped translate for my people.”

  “Your people?”

  “I mean the Sioux. They adopted me, you know. I felt like I was one of them. I still feel like I am one of them.”

  “You are no more Indian than I am,” he frowned. “You will get used to things once we get to San Francisco. I brought some dresses I hope will fit you. Becky said you were dressed in Indian garb but was similar to her size, so she loaned me some of her dresses.”

  “How far is San Francisco from here?” Daisy wanted to know, trying to forget about that day at the fort. The memories were too tender and sad to recall without crying again.

  “It will take us two or three weeks to get there. Your mother will be so happy to see you! You have a younger brother, now. He was born shortly after we arrived in San Francisco.”

  Daisy hadn’t even known her mother was expecting a baby, but she was so young back then, how would she?

  “He is almost twelve years old now. I hope the two of you get along well. His name is Davy. It sounds a bit like Daisy, and your mother missed you so much, I guess she was thinking he would have to take your place. Only no one could take your place, Daisy. Now we can be a happy family again.”

  Yes, Daisy thought, only she knew she would never be happy again, not as long as Gray Wolf would never be a part of her life. She would never find anyone like Gray Wolf to fall in love with. Besides no one would want her, once they found out an Indian had taken her. Her life was ruined, no matter how she looked at it.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The hunt had been successful, only Gray Wolf had been distracted, once the excitement was over with. His thoughts kept going back to Little Flower, the look in her eyes and her question as to whether he still loved her and wanted her as his woman. Why should she doubt his love for her, he wondered. He had expressed it so convincingly, by the side of the river, he thought. He had spoken of it to her. He had asked her to become his wife, and yet she looked as though she hadn’t believed him. Merry Morning must have said something to her to make her doubt his love. She had been standing beside Merry Morning before she rushed up to him when they were getting ready to leave on the hunt. When he got back he would have to straighten it all out, he grumbled to himself.

  At the moment, his body was splattered with blood. He had eaten the liver of his first kill, cutting it warm from the body of the buffalo, which was the custom to prove he was ready to become a man. His body still could not relax after being so focused on killing the buffalo while not getting trampled in the process. He had to ride close to the animal in order to place the arrow in a spot that would bring the huge beast tumbling to the ground. If his arrow missed the vulnerable spot, he would have to try and retrieve his arrow from the stampeding buffalo, so no one could discover his aim was bad. The arrows had the mark of each brave on them, to identify them from the rest. The women would be sure to ridicule him if they found his arrow in the part of a buffalo that was not fatal enough to bring it to its knees. He would do anything to keep from losing face, no matter how dangerous it was.

  The Sioux’s most valued treasure was their pride. Honor came before everything else. That was one of the reasons he had been so abrupt with Little Flower. Preparing to go on a hunt was not the time or place to be declaring one’s love for someone. He did not want the other braves to believe that his woman did not trust him and was trying to keep him from joining the hunt. Merry Morning had obediently stayed at a dist
ance, showing her pride in the group that was about to depart. Little Flower had been raised in the tribe. She should have known not to have grabbed his leg like that, as though trying to convince him to come down off of his horse.

  Now, his anger had subsided. The excitement drained from his body. She just wanted his assurance that he still loved her. Of course, he still loved her. As soon as he returned he would make sure she understood that!

  The women had transported almost all of the buffalo back to the village. Little Flower was probably busy helping with the meat. Other braves were starting to straggle back to the village for well-deserved rest. He would go to the river and bathe. Then he would find Little Flower and reassure her of his love. His only worry was that she wouldn’t be there. She said she may be gone. Where would she go when the whole tribe made a concerted effort to prepare the buffalo meat after the hunt? What could be more important than that, which would take her from the village? It didn’t make sense. She was supposed to be patiently waiting for him to return from the hunt. That was a woman’s place.

  The tribe was a bustle of activity when Gray Wolf reached it. All he wanted to do was fall off of his horse and rest, but that would have to wait until after he spoke to Little Flower. However, the first person he saw, who came to greet him was Merry Morning. She smiled at him in a way he couldn’t understand. There was something behind her eyes that had not been there before. There was a subtle excitement sparking there.

  “Gray Wolf, I need to speak to you,” she said anxiously, but he brushed past her.

  “I must bathe,” he told her bluntly. He wanted to talk to Little Flower, first; then rest before talking to anyone else.

  He had not seen Little Flower with the other women slicing meat, so Gray Wolf decided to bathe first and look for Little Flower later. He made his way to the river and sank down under the refreshing water which cooled his skin and calmed his anxious mind. Gray Wolf started to relax, his taut muscles softening as the water lapped around him. However, he was so tired that he merely crawled up on the bank and fell into a deep sleep, forgetting about his intentions of talking to Little Flower first, before resting.

  When Gray Wolf’s eyes opened, he was chilled. The sun was no longer shining. Only the reflection of a full moon shown down on him, filtered through the trees. It glimmered on the surface of the river, highlighting every ripple. The frog’s songs were filling his ears, and crickets chirped close by until he started to move. Fireflies sparkled on and off as they danced about his head. He felt completely rested, but a little anxious. He had not sought out Little Flower and she must be worried even more that his love for her was waning. He dragged himself to his feet, tied his breechcloth around his waist and headed to his family’s lodge. He hoped Little Flower was not sleeping. Only if she was, he would just have to wake her.

  As he sprinted up the trail, he noticed Merry Morning and Talking Dog, deep in conversation up ahead in the shadows of the greenery beside the well-warn path. His pace slowed as he paused to listen. “You are right,” Talking Dog was saying to Merry Morning, “Little Flower was not worthy of Gray Wolf, it is good she is no longer here to plague us!”

  “Spotted Coyote told me you had lain with her. Did she not love Gray Wolf after all?”

  Talking Dog chuckled. “I took her, yes. I couldn’t help myself. It was not very satisfying, though. Gray Wolf is lucky not to have her. She actually kicked me in the groin when we were done.”

  “You took her against her will?” Merry Morning gasped.

  “Oh, she wanted me. It just took a little coaxing. I got her attention all right once she was still enough to let me show her what talents I have when it comes to women. She was just angry that I persuaded her so her chances with Gray Wolf would be ruined. He would be crazy to want her now, only,” he gave a long laugh before continuing, “she’s gone so what difference does it make how she ended up with me?”

  “There was a white woman at the fort that recognized her. I overheard her mentioning it, so I told her were her father could find her,” Merry Morning admitted. “It is right she should go back to her family. I was helping her. I was helping Gray Wolf, he was so blinded by that white woman, he needed to let go of his fascination with her. Now everything will get back to normal again. He will see the wisdom in keeping his promise to my father and taking me as his wife.”

  “So you were the one who brought the white man here,” Talking Dog murmured, giving a whistle. “I am not sure if I am happy or not. I was going to persuade Little Flower to take me as her husband. After all, she has my seed in her. It would be best, had she remained. Now I will never know if that seed took.”

  “Her people will hate her if she ends up having your child,” Merry Morning exclaimed. “I have heard how they talk about the half-breeds the trappers have with their Indian wives. White people don’t like Indians, or women who have their children.”

  Talking Dog gave a low chuckle. “For certain she will never forget our time together if she spawns my child.”

  At that moment, Gray Wolf stepped forward, and grabbed Talking Dog by the neck.

  “What are you speaking of?” he demanded, giving Talking Dog a shake, causing Talking Dog to worry for his safety.

  “Let go!” he croaked, trying to pry the iron fingers away. Merry Morning was pulling Gray Wolf off of Talking Dog.

  “What did you do to my woman?” Gray Wolf bellowed, reluctantly releasing his grip. “If you touched her as you say, I will have your scalp!”

  “She wanted me! You had turned her away when she tried to talk to you before the hunt. She was crying. Whatever you said hurt her. I was showing her sympathy. Besides, she knew you could never ask her to be your wife. She is a white woman and not worthy to be the wife of a Chief’s son. She was your sister! You were stepping out of place, Gray Wolf, and you know it!”

  “So you just took her virtue?” Gray Wolf growled, pressing his face into Talking Dog’s face.

  “A white woman’s virtue is not held with respect,” he justified.

  “She was a member of our tribe!”

  “Only a member, not a true born Sioux,” he hissed. “She wasn’t that enjoyable anyway, you would have been cutting yourself short had you taken her as your wife.”

  With that statement, Gray Wolf pulled back his fist and let it fly into Talking Dog’s face. Talking Dog staggered back and drew his knife, but Merry Morning stepped between them.

  “Stop this!” she screamed. “Do you both want to be banished from the tribe? You know the penalty of killing a member of the tribe. Little Flower is gone anyway. She is not worth fighting over now. Life will be better now that she is not here to upset everyone!”

  “Never look at me again,” Gray Wolf bellowed at Talking Dog, “And as for you, Merry Morning, I no longer consider you a friend. It was you who brought her father to our village to take Little Flower away. I will never forgive you! I will never ask another to become my woman. I am as a dead man without Little Flower by my side!”

  “Her father would have come eventually,” Merry Morning insisted. “The woman recognized her, and would have mentioned it to her father. He would have come looking for her. I just made it easier for him. It is lucky she was taken before you made the mistake of taking her as your wife. It is better this way, Gray Wolf. You will realize it when you calm down.”

  Gray Wolf merely growled, low in his throat, then turned and sprinted up the trail to speak to his father and discover where Little Flower’s father had taken her. If it was the last thing he did, he would track them down and bring Little Flower back to the tribe and to his own lodge where she belonged, whether he became a man first or not! It was not better this way! His life would be empty if Little Flower was not in it.

  Fire filled his soul, while doubt trembled on the edge of his thoughts. What if Little Flower didn’t want him anymore? What if she was happy that she was returning to her white family? What if she refused to return with him? He remembered in the beginning that all she could
think about was her father coming to get her. He pushed the worries aside. His mind was made up. He would not give up on her unless she told him herself that she didn’t love him anymore.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The dress felt restrictive and bulky. It wasn’t so much the dress itself, but all the underthings Daisy had to put on before even placing the dress over her head. There was a shift and stockings, pantaloons, a corset, which she tossed aside because she couldn’t figure out how it worked, and then layers of petticoats that Daisy felt was totally unnecessary!

  The dress had been laid out with all its trappings, in the wagon when Daisy woke the first morning after they camped along the way. She had bathed in the river the night before, and then put on a long, soft nightgown her father had handed her before she went to the river. When she was with the Sioux she hadn’t slept in anything beneath the buffalo robe, so having something on while she slept felt restrictive as well. The next morning, when she discovered her Indian dress was nowhere in sight, she was informed that it had been disposed of. Daisy realized it meant that her father must have burned her clothes in the camp fire, the night before. Luckily, Daisy had kept her pouch with her, strung around her neck. It held the woman medicine along with other mementoes and that was the only part of Gray Wolf she had to keep his memory fresh in her mind.

  Now, she fingered the pouch, which she had tucked down the collar of her dress so her father didn’t snatch that too and burn it. To Daisy, it seemed that her life she had spent with the Sioux had gone up in smoke along with the dress. Memories, drifting into the sky along with the smoke, caught by the breeze, perhaps blowing all the way back to the Sioux village, for all she knew.

  Daisy tried to distract her thoughts by pulling on the high-top button-up boots, over her white stockings. It made her feet feel like they were in a vice that the blacksmiths at the fort used to grasp whatever they were pounding on. The buttons were impossible to fasten until her father handed her a button hook and showed her how to use it. She longed for her soft moccasins, only she was sure her father had burned them too.