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“Chief Gray Feather,” he whispered, his eyes brightening. “Gray Feather’s warriors! They know the land! They are good at tracking!”
“Flame is gone?” Michael asked, tugging on his sleeve. “Her own father took her away, like you would have taken me away had my ad
opted parents not allowed you to have me?”
“Yes, her own father took her away, but not in the same way I would have taken you, had you not been given back to me when I asked for you,” White Fire said, stroking his fingers through his son’s thick, black hair. “This man, Flame’s father, is an evil man. Flame is not safe while with him. I must go and find her, Michael.”
Dancing Star took Michael’s hand. “We will help you,” she said, her eyes innocently wide. She looked at Michael. “Won’t we, Michael?”
“I am certain you would like to do that, but it would be too dangerous,” White Fire said solemnly. “I’ll take you to stay with the Chippewa while I go with many Chippewa warriors to search for her.”
He suddenly remembered the wire. He went into the cabin. The children came in behind him. He started to lay the wire aside, to read later, when he returned from his search for Flame.
But something told him to read it now. His mother sending her response to his letter with a quick wire, instead of a leisurely letter, told him that something must be wrong. Perhaps her new husband wasn’t treating her well. Perhaps she had seen someone else she desired more. He could hardly believe his mother’s fickleness.
Taking the wire from the envelope, he opened it and began reading. His eyes widened and his heart pounded like distant thunder the more he read.
He saw that his mother was fickle even as a younger woman.
The wire revealed to White Fire the truth of who his father truly was.
And he was not white.
All these years, when he had been taunted for being a ’breed, he was being wrongly labeled, for both his mother and father were Indian. One was Miami. The other was Chippewa.
“Chief Gray Feather?” he whispered, staring blankly at the truth as it lay there before him in black and white.
Chapter 39
Words from my eyes did start—
They spoke as chords do from the string.
—John Clare
The wire from his mother tucked inside his front breeches pocket and both children on the saddle before him Dancing Star more on his lap than in the saddle, White Fire rode in a gallop toward the Chippewa village. He was glad to see it was now only a short distance away. He knew that as each moment passed, Colonel Russell could be taking Flame farther and farther away from him. There was even a chance that White Fire might not even ever find them.
That thought, that possibility, tore at his heart.
And then what he had discovered in his mother’s wire was clinging to his mind with every heartbeat. The man he had always thought was his father wasn’t? A man he would have never guessed to be his father was? Irony of all ironies, that it was someone he had grown to love as a father.
Chief Gray Feather.
Chills rode up his spine as he recalled the many times Chief Gray Feather had said that he was drawn to him as a man is drawn to a son. And the chief had dreamed that he was his son.
And White Fire was. All along he had been the son of this proud, peace-loving chief.
Michael looked over his shoulder at White Fire. “I see Indian houses. Is that the Indian village where I am going to get me a pony?” he asked, drawing White Fire out of his reverie.
He smiled down at his son. “Yes, that is the Chippewa village where we will get both you and Dancing Star ponies,” he said. His smile faded. “But first I have things to do that will take me away from you for a while,” he said. “Will you mind being left with the Chippewa as I go with many warriors to search for Flame?”
Michael beamed. “It will be fun being with Indians,” he said, his eyes dancing. His gaze swept slowly over his father’s face. “Will their skin color be like yours? Are you part Chippewa, Father?”
White Fire’s lips parted, then they quivered into a proud smile. “Yes, in part, I am Chippewa,” he said. “I am part Miami and Chippewa.”
Dancing Star turned and gave White Fire a questioning stare. “I did not know that you were Chippewa,” she said, cocking an eyebrow. “Mother did not tell me that you were of our same tribe,”
“That is because I did not know until today that I was,” White Fire answered, his voice breaking with emotion.
