But none of these things were right. If Swift Hawk were to exemplify his people, then the Indians would have to be a religious as well as a conscientious people.
Was it all, then, nothing but gossip?
True, she figured that as in all races of people, there would have to be those who did right and those who did wrong. But then, she thought, remembering her history, if the Indians were acting savagely, was it all one-sided?
Wouldn’t she fight for what was hers, if someone wanted all she possessed? For the first time, Angelia understood what was happening here. The Indians were fighting for all that was theirs, their land, their culture, their very existence. Never again would she look upon the Indian as anything other than a race of people; people with strengths, faults and rights, just like anyone else.
She had learned something this morning, something that might, perhaps, change her viewpoint about the West. True, she may not have changed the world with her knowledge, but for herself, the matter was settled.
What was being said about these people was nothing more than rumors and lies.
Each soul must meetthe morning sun, the new, sweet earth, and the Great Silence alone!
Charles A. Eastman
The Soul of the Indian
Swift Hawk sang an honoringsong to the Creator, thanking Him for giving life to all things, for making the earth beautiful and, having made the proper sacrifices, Swift Hawk felt secure in asking for help in attaining the freedom of his people. As hesang, he smudged himself with the smoldering embers of sweet grass, asking that his thoughts be pure, and that he walk the good road, the one most advantageous to his people.
There was much that he still did not understand, and in his daily prayers, he asked again for help in learning what he must, that he might fulfill his purpose. In many ways, Swift Hawk acknowledged that he had arrived at a forked road, for he had come to a place where there were many paths to choose.
Had he chosen correctly? Wisely?
It had been his decision to help the woman and her brother, but despite his growing warmth for the woman, Swift Hawk’s doubts were still many. If she were truly the one who was meant to help him, would he continue to yearn for her in a purely physical way? Didn’t his sense of honor and common sense negate this?
Yet, he could not deny his desire. As it was, each night when he at last lay down to sleep, his thoughts were flooded by images of taking her to his bed, almost to the exclusion of all else. He knew he should consider more seriously the marriage bed. It was the only honorable way.
Yet he, more than anyone else, realized this path was blocked to him. For one, she was white, he was Indian; for another, she was from a dream, he was on a quest.
But most important, the biggest objection he might raise would be his vow to the Creator. A vow to remain celibate and unattached to the female of the species.
Saaaa, it had to be a weakness within him—a weakness that was a danger signal, and a danger he would do best to heed. For he had realized long ago that, for whatever reason, his life could not admit a great loveandthe accomplishing of a great deed—not at the same time. If ever a time did come that he would have to choose between the two, the fulfillment of his purpose would have to take precedence over all else.
Yet, in some way, somehow, she was part of this.
But could he be certain of what part she was to play? Whatif she were to be no more than a hindrance, a distraction meant to lure him away from the good road? For he surely felt lured.
Enough, he told himself. He resolved nothing with his thoughts.
He breathed in deeply, filling his lungs, and clearing his mind, he continued to sing. As he sang, he smudged himself with the sacred grass, that the smoke might purify his thoughts, and he opened his heart to the allness of nature, fusing his mind to the rhythm and the life of the environment around him. He sensed her presence, for her thoughts were a stranger here amongst the pulse of nature.
She was here? Now? Where?
He hadn’t heard her approach, he hadn’t seen her. Nevertheless he knew she was here—he could perceive her. With his mind, he sought her out.
Ah. There she was, there in the river. For a moment, if a moment only, he joined his mind with hers and knew at once that she had been bathing… What? Here, right under his nose? Strange that he hadn’t noticed her at once.
Or had she sought him out?
Haa’he.She had done exactly this, he realized. Immediately his body responded to that thought. It was as if she had offered herself to him, heart, body and soul. He swallowed hard, knowing well that just because she was here, it did not mean she was his to court.
His body refused to listen to reason, and of its own, it impressed its needs upon him. Physically he ached to see her. Morally, he knew he must not, for if he were a wise man, he would resist the temptation that she presented.
Perhaps he was not so wise as his conscience dictated. Indeed, he didnotleave as he knew he should, but rather stayed where he was, waiting, knowing that eventually Mother Earth would aid him.
He was right. Soon the forces of Nature did, indeed, conspire with him against her, for a single ray of morning lightalit upon her, there where she hid in the water.
Go! Leave here while you can, a rational part of him urged. If she had been bathing, she would be naked.
