He wasn’t afraid for himself, he realized.
He was afraid for the land. For the little children he could hear crying softly from various tipis. For something he could not see that stretched ahead of him.
He was not the only man to lead others against the whites. No Indian sat with greater determination against them than Sitting Bull of the Hunkpapa. He was older than Crazy Horse. A renowned warrior, a holy man. Crazy Horse listened when Sitting Bull spoke. Together with the others who shared their hearts, they would make a stand.
And still, he felt the shudder.
The whites were coming. Blanketing them.
He shook the feeling away and entered his tipi, focused on more cheerful thoughts. Like those of a half-white blood brother he called friend. He sighed, stirring his fire to heighten it. He lay down to sleep. “Ah, Hawk, my friend! Trust me as one who knows. Women are trouble!”
CHAPTER 9
“My God!” Skylar breathed.
Mayfair. The house was magnificent. It was nestled in a valley surrounded by undulating land, with the Black Hills rising in the distance. Even by the moonlight in which they arrived, the lawn surrounding the fine house seemed teeming with color, softened by shadows brought about by dozens of different kinds of wildflowers. Mayfair itself was a large, whitewashed structure with massive white columns that framed a large porch filled with rockers and other chairs. A barn stood to the far right of the house and slightly behind it. Aside from those two structures, nothing broke the flow of the natural beauty of the land. The house seemed almost like a castle in the midst of a flowery Eden.
“It’s so very elegant—in the middle of nowhere,” Skylar murmured.
She felt Willow looking at her. She turned to him. “It’s very beautiful.”
Willow watched her, nodding. “The mine is some distance from here. Not quite in the Black Hills, the disputed land now, Sa Papa. Lord Douglas came here many years ago. When he built his white man’s house, he would not do so on Sioux holy ground.Not even his gold mine rests on holy land. He had too much respect for the beliefs of the people. But now…”
“Now?” Skylar asked.
Willow shrugged.
“Now the people are divided in factions. Red Cloud was once a fierce warrior. Now he lives in the agency and tries to coerce more food from the whites. Many of the Indians live in the agencies, taking the government stipends. Even there, some wish to sell the Black Hills, while others refuse to do so. Some say that war with the whites has all but decimated other tribes and that we must learn the white ways in order to survive. And if we do so, we might indeed survive, but at what price? Others…”
“Others?”
“Others join with Sitting Bull to our west and the north. All that remains of our hunting territory. Men such as Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull will not even come in to speak at the agencies. They feel we must draw the line now and can surrender no more. Red Cloud went to Washington in the summer.” He smiled with a shrug. “Red Cloud sees the strength and the might and the numbers of the white men and their government. He enjoys trips to see the Great White Father, your president. But on this matter, even Red Cloud despairs. Red Cloud went to ask that the Indian agents quit cheating. That they buy good cattle instead of rotten meat. Give us grain that is not laden with worms. No one would discuss the problems that plague us. All they want is the gold in the hills.”
“There’s been a depression for several years now,” Skylar told him. She wondered if she could try to explain the confusion of economics when she barely understood it herself. “It’s very bad for the white men now, too. A few summer ago, there were grasshoppers destroying the crops. So many, they say, that they darkened the sky and were several feet thick when they landed on the crops. Food became very expensive. The president wasafraid of having too much money out that wasn’t backed by gold, while the farmers thought that we needed more paper currency to keep them going. In the big cities, people were out of work.” She hesitated. “After the great war when the Americans fought the Americans, many came west for a new life. Now they need to come west again to try to survive. Gold is to us what the buffalo is to the Indians. White men think they need it to survive.” I need it at the moment, rather desperately, she thought.
Willow was studying her. He nodded with a grudging smile. “Once, it was a great crime for any Sioux to even mention to a white that there might be gold in the hills. They have known that the whites become madmen over gold dust.”
“Well, men do go mad over gold!” Skylar agreed. She stared at the house, shaking her head again. “Lord Douglas came here, years ago, and lived undisturbed by the Sioux?”
“He lived among the Oglala, then returned to England. When he came back here, he built Mayfair. Undisturbed.” He lifted a hand, seeking a way to explain. “Among my people, a man is expected to follow his own path through life. Crazy Horse keeps his distance from all things white. Young-Man-Afraid had been among his best friends, but they shook hands and parted when Young-Man-Afraid became an agency Indian. Young-Man-Afraid is now among the Indian police at the Red Cloud agency. Each man takes his own path.”
“Young-Man-Afraid,” Skylar murmured. “Interesting name. Is he—easily frightened?”
“Young-Man-Afraid-of-His-Horses,” Willow told her.
“He’s afraid of horses?”
Willow laughed. “No. His enemies are afraid, just of the sound of his horses.”
“Ah!”
Willow was still smiling. He shrugged. “I live in a log house by the mining camp. My brothers went west to ride with Crazy Horse. We have parted but are still blood.”
“It must be very difficult,” Skylar said.
“A tide has come. Like a great wave. Just since I was a boy. By the time many more years have passed, everything I knew then will have changed. But?—”
“Yes?”
