Chapter 10 #3
“Yes, he’s right, I do understand,” Hawk said.
The Crazy Horse people were not a natural family band.
They were not Miniconjou, Two Kettles, Oglala, or other—they were defined simply by the fact that they had chosen to follow Crazy Horse and resist the white onslaught.
Nor was Crazy Horse a hereditary chief. He was, however, a very brave warrior among the Sioux.
When he was a boy, his vision quest had shown him a warrior, facing a rain of bullets and arrows, riding a horse among them, never being hit.
As the years passed and he saw the way the white government broke every promise it made to the Sioux, he became that warrior, a man determined to lead his people in battle.
He would be a free Indian, not a reservation Indian.
More and more young men, women, and even children flocked to him.
The seven-foot warrior of the Miniconjou, Touch-the-Clouds, had tried reservation life.
He left again to join Crazy Horse. Those bands now moved to the northwest to the final hunting grounds of the Sioux, far from the white settlements, where Sitting Bull had also amassed a large following.
No matter how hard the government tried to get them to come in to negotiate the sale of the Black Hills, the Crazy Horse people determined to stay away.
“The army will ask you to visit Crazy Horse and plead with him to come to a meeting near one of the agencies and listen to their arguments. You will come?”
Hawk grinned. “Yes, the army has already asked me. Cougar-in-the-Night has asked me to talk with Crazy Horse. And I will come. I’m anxious to see my grandfather. And my friends.”
“Cougar brings the words of the army.”
“He brings them honestly.”
“He tries. The army has taken him away. Yet he doesn’t forget that he grew up among honest people.”
“He will not try to influence any man against what he thinks is right or wrong. He will try very hard to explain how the Sioux can best negotiate.”
“War may be the best negotiation.”
“Each man must decide.”
Dark Mountain nodded gravely, then let the matter rest. “You have a new wife, I am told.”
“Yes.”
“I have a new wife as well.”
Hawk smiled, teasing him. “You’ve not misplaced the old one.”
Dark Mountain grinned, shaking his head. “I have taken Little Doe, Blue Raven’s sister, for my wife as well. I’ve a son by her now.”
“Your family grows. You’re richly blessed.”
“You should have married again before now,” Dark Mountain told him gravely. “Had you had two wives before…you’d have had solace for the loss of she you loved so much.”
Hawk smiled. “It’s different in my father’s world, you know. A man takes but one wife. At a time, at least.”
“Because white men must worry about their belongings,” Dark Mountain said with a shake of his head.
Hawk nodded. “Yes, that can be quite true. But then again, wives can cause headaches. One at a time can be enough.”
Dark Mountain was grinning. “I’ve heard tales about your new wife,” he said.
Hawk arched a brow, though he realized his cousins Blade and Ice Raven must have been talking about the parts they had played for him in the stagecoach attack.
“One husband needs all his strength to subdue her. Though for a white woman, she is said to be very beautiful, with hair just like the sun, well worth a battle.”
“She does have a fighting spirit,” Hawk admitted dryly.
“Well, even if she’s much trouble, I am glad you have a wife now.
You will not be alone. You’ve lost much, suffered much.
In time, perhaps, Wakan Tanka will bless you with many children.
When you come among us, we will do the proper ceremonies.
You are a warrior who has graced his heritage.
Wakan Tanka will listen. He will give you sons.
Sons will help you remain close to your father with less pain because you will give them all that your father was, and in the telling, you will remember. Loss, my friend, is the way of life.”
Hawk nodded, smiling. He was truly glad to see Dark Mountain today.
Though their paths had greatly diverged since the days when they had been boys, they remained friends, and Hawk felt certain they would remain so no matter how much time passed and no matter how dire relations grew between the hostiles and the white world.
“I’m glad for you, Dark Mountain, that life remains rich and grows richer.”
“It grows more dangerous as well, but that is for another time. I will stay with you and your father now. Soon, others will come, and then you will give him up.”
Several hours later, Hawk sat at his desk, rubbing his temples.
There was a tapping at the office door. “Come in,” he called wearily.
He’d already spent an hour with Henry Pierpont, going over his father’s will—and the addendum, which he had just received.
The document had arrived, duly witnessed, Henry assured him, soon after the news of his father’s death.
There were no surprises in it other than what he already knew.
The fact that Skylar would receive Mayfair and the Sioux lands if he were to make any attempt to negate the marriage.
A reading of the will wasn’t necessary since he was the sole heir as long as he complied with his father’s wishes.
His home was by right his wife’s home as well.
It was Skylar herself who opened the door.
Skylar in black velvet and silk. Despite the somber color of her gown and the severe twist of her golden hair, she looked perhaps more compelling than usual.
Black became her, enhancing the glittering color of her hair, the ivory of her skin.
The clean sweep of her hair emphasized the classical perfection of her throat and features.
Though she had risen when he had awakened her and done quite an admirable job of taking over a household full of strangers, she had equally managed to avoid him throughout the morning and afternoon.
“Yes?”
“The Reverend Mathews has arrived. He’s eager that the service be conducted at the graveside before dark.”
He nodded. She didn’t leave.
“Mr. Pierpont was your father’s executor?”
He arched a brow. “Yes?”
She hesitated still. He smiled with no warmth. “I see. You are curious about whether you were mentioned in the will.”
She stiffened. He shook his head grimly.
“I’m so sorry, my love. It seems my father left you—me.
And your place in this house, of course.
” He stood. “Other than that—well, my love, I was his son. I’m his sole heir.
” Was it a lie? No, it was the absolute truth because he’d damned well comply with his father’s terms. She wasn’t going to walk away free with one bit of Douglas property.
“I am quite aware that you’re his heir. But I must admit that I was curious if there were any mention of how I am to live.”
He arched a brow and extended his hands. “You’re to live here. Amply provided for, no?”
“But there are little things—”
“If you should need something, you need only say so. It will be provided for you.”
Her lashes lowered. He thought for a moment that she was in distress, and for some absurd reason, he felt a tug at his heart rather than a rise in his temper.
But then he remembered that he was about to bury his father. And she had thought that she had married his father, had become a widow—and an heiress. The tug at his heart faded. With renewed but controlled anger, he walked around his desk, taking her arm.
“Let’s go down, shall we?”
The company was very mixed indeed, with agency Indians, soldiers, settlers, sutlers, and their various wives gathered in the parlor.
Old Sam Haggerty and Riley, who along with David Douglas had been among the first whites to stake a home in the Dakota wilderness, sat in the front row of chairs that had been set up there.
The Reverend Mathews stood at the head of the coffin.
He looked as if he might be a hundred and ten, with a full head of white hair and a face so wrinkled by the sun that it seemed to carry deep grooves.
He nodded to Hawk when he saw him enter the parlor with Skylar on his arm. “My friends, we will begin.”
He started with the Lord’s Prayer and then read from his prayer book. Then he stopped reading and offered a eulogy, extolling David Douglas as a man unique among men, one who recognized all of God’s children, one who had made better the lives of all those he’d touched, helping those in distress.
Hawk was surprised to see Skylar listening attentively to every word the Reverend said, seeming to fight back tears. He nearly set an arm around her to comfort her.
But then he remembered that she had just asked him about money. Her inheritance.
He held still, as rigid as an oak.
Willow, Riley, Sam, and Two Feathers carried the coffin through the back door of the parlor onto the rear porch.
From there they led the funeral procession to the massive oak that spread over the back lawn.
A double tombstone had already been set at the foot of the oak.
His mother lay six feet beneath it. Both her white and Sioux names had been chiseled into the stone.
She had asked to be buried here, at Mayfair, beneath the oak.
And David had asked to be interred at her side.
So it would be.
The Reverend Mathews finished the service, sprinkling dirt upon the coffin after it had been lowered into the earth.
The last words were said. Sandra and Megan, huddled together, cried softly.
Lily embraced them both, then led them back to the house.
People began to drift away from the grave.
Hawk remained, Skylar still at his side.
He disengaged her fingers from his arm. “Go in. I’ll be along.”