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“Does Grandfather know?” Dancing Star asked.
“No, and do not tell him, Dancing Star,” he said. “I wish to tell him, myself. But I won’t have time until I return from my search for Flame.”
“Flame is pretty,” Dancing Star said softly. “I like her red hair.” She reached up and ran a hand through her long, thick, black hair. “I wish mine was red.”
“Do not ever wish to be what you are not,” White Fire said, reaching around to place a gentle hand on Dancing Star’s shoulder. “Be proud of your heritage. Your hair is beautiful, Dancing Star. It shines and it is smooth as a bird’s wing.”
“I like birds,” Dancing Star said, smiling widely.
As White Fire led his stallion into the outskirts of the village, he became quiet. His jaw tightened as he gazed past everyone who stood aside and watched their arrival. He looked at the chief’s lodge, his heart pounding at the thought of his very own father being inside the large wigwam. He so badly wished to go to him and embrace him and call him “Father,” but time did not allow it.
Flame. He must concentrate on finding Flame.
Then he would sit in council with his father and tell him what White Fire knew would please the old chief.
By the time he arrived at Gray Feather’s lodge, the chief was standing outside, watching with a curious eye, his eyebrows raised.
White Fire wheeled his horse to a quick halt. He set first Dancing Star on the ground, and then Michael. Then he slid from the saddle and placed a hand behind each of the children’s heads and led them over to the chief.
“Why have you come?” Chief Gray Feather asked, looking slowly from child to child, his eyes lingering the longest on Michael.
Then he gazed into White Fire’s eyes, awaiting an answer.
White Fire found it difficult to speak, for this was the first time he had ever stood face-to-face with Gray Feather, knowing that he was his true father.
Tears threatened to reveal the secret he must hold within him until Flame was found and was safe. If the tears did spill from his eyes, it would be impossible not to explain why. He fought them back.
He squared his shoulders and tightened his jaw as he gently shoved the children toward the chief. “I must ask two favors of you, Gray Feather,” he said, his voice drawn. “That you please keep the children safe with you, and that you please allow many of your warriors to go with me to search for my woman.”
“Your woman is missing?” Gray Feather asked, finding this all too familiar since his daughter had not so long ago been stolen away. “The Sioux? They are the cause? They abducted your woman?”
“Gah-ween, no, not the Sioux,” White Fire said bitterly. “Her father took her away.”
“Colonel Russell?” Gray Feather said, his eyes widening. “I saw him taken into custody by the white pony soldiers at Fort Snelling. Did he escape them?”
“Ay-uh, yes, he escaped and he abducted Flame right before the eyes of Dancing Star,” White Fire said in a rush of words. “Thank God, at least he didn’t harm the child.”
“I will care for the children and ay-uh, take as many warriors as you need to search for the flame-haired woman,” Gray Feather said. “I like that woman. She has spirit and she also has a kind heart.”
“Ay-uh, yes, she is one of a kind, that is for certain,” White Fire said thickly, his heart paining him anew to think he might never see her again.
Gray Feather knelt before the children. “Dancing Star, take Michael into my lodge while I see to it that many warriors are sent out to search for Flame,” he said, embracing one, and then the other. “I shall return to my lodge in a matter of moments. We will sit by the fire and tell stories until White Fire’s return.”
“That will be fun, gee-bah-bah-nahn, Grandfather,” Dancing Star said, clapping her hands excitedly. Then she grabbed Michael’s hand and, in a skipping run, led him into the wigwam.
Soon many warriors were on horseback, and armed—some with rifles and some with bows and arrows. Gray Feather stood back and watched White Fire and his warriors leave. Then he went inside his lodge and looked at the children who were sitting by the fire, giggling and chattering like magpies.
His gaze fell on Michael, feeling a strange sort of bond with him, the same that he had always felt for Michael’s father.
He inhaled a shaky breath, then went and sat down with the children.
They instantly crawled over and sat down before him.
“Grandfather, tell us about how the skunk got its white stripe, please?” Dancing Star begged. “I love that story.”
Gray Feather patted first one head and then the other, then began the story that he had so often told his granddaughter. It was good to have her with him again. He now knew that he had been wrong to give her away so easily. Yet he could tell that she would be content in her new home, for there she would have a brother to grow up with, and a father who would be the best of fathers!
Chapter 40
