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quamish, living only for the honor of being Suquamish, makes Strong Heart ashamed,” Strong Heart scolded. His gaze roamed the circle of braves. “Are there others who feel the same? Would you rather work for the white men than your very own people? How could any of you forget the importance of the salmon to the Suquamish? It is what sustains us through the long, harsh winters. Without the salmon, many would go hungry!”
His eyes bored into the one brave that had spoken so favorably of working for the white people, becoming their slave as had so many of their forefathers so long ago.
“This that you bring before our braves today—this talk of working for white men,” Strong Heart said, his voice flat. “Why do you?”
“Two white men came to our village while you were gone to set Four Winds free from the white man’s prison,” the brave said, his face flushing under Strong Heart’s stare. “They sat in council with your father and made offers that sounded foolish until . . . until . . . after the raid, and I saw how quickly things could change for our people. In one instant, the salmon that we would harvest could be taken from us by fires set by evil raiders. Now I see the importance of learning ways to feed our people other than the salmon run each autumn.”
Strong Heart rose slowly to his feet, towering over the braves in council. With his fists on his hips and his legs spread, he glared from man to man. “Who were these white men intruders?” he asked, his voice filled with wrath. “A name. Do you have names?”
“Morris Murdoch was the only name that stays in my mind,” another brave said, looking sternly up at Strong Heart. “The other name has flown.”
A smooth and clear voice suddenly spoke from behind Strong Heart, who turned in surprise. His father was limping into the council house with the aid of a staff. Strong Heart started to go to him and was stopped by what his father was saying.
“I, too, have forgotten the white man’s name due to all that has happened since their visit,” Chief Moon Elk said. “But, my son, while you were gone on your search for the raiders, I sent out scouts to see where the white men were building their fishery that they spoke so openly of—where they wish to enslave our people for what they call wages. This building in which salmon will be processed to sell to other white men sits on the shores of the Sound, close to the hallowed grounds of our people. The white man’s house that also sits on our hallowed grounds is lived in by one of the men who came to us with cheap offers of the heart.”
Strong Heart’s heart constricted and his throat went dry, stunned by what his father had said. In his mind, he saw that day when he had stood on the butte, studying the men working on the shore, erecting a building. He had wondered what it was for.
The realization of who the man was whom Chief Moon Elk was speaking of sent a wave of despair through Strong Heart, making him weave with the pain that the knowledge brought him.
The man was Elizabeth’s father! It had to be.
His heart now beat rapidly with anger, as he recalled her explanation for her father’s decision to move to the Pacific Northwest. She had spoken very skillfully around the truth—not actually lying to him, yet not being altogether truthful.
It sickened him to know that all along she had known of her father’s schemes to entice the Suquamish into leaving their way of life to take up the white man’s culture!
She had surely known, also, that her father had chosen his village to work his schemes on. And yet she had not admitted it to Strong Heart.
The thought that she could betray him in the slightest way tore at his very soul, making her betrayal lie heavy on his heart. He fell speechless in front of his father.
Chief Moon Elk went to the circle of men and sat down among them. Strong Heart silently followed and sat down beside his father.
Elizabeth! he despaired to himself. His la-daila!
Strong Heart would not allow himself to believe that she would betray him. Knowing her as well as he did, he had to believe that her purpose for lying to him had a good reason.
Ah-hah, he silently decided—yes, he would believe that his woman had lied for a good reason.
As his father conversed with the other braves, convincing them to stay with their people and participate in the salmon harvest only for their people, Strong Heart’s thoughts turned elsewhere.
He began thinking about the timing of the white men’s visit to his village with offers that they had, in turn, refused, and the massacre that had occurred shortly after.
He could not help but suspect that Elizabeth’s father had led the raid in retaliation for the Indians’ turning him down.
Would her father have planned the raid in order to frighten the Suquamish into bowing down to his wishes when he came back?
Strong Heart momentarily held his face within his hands, slowly shaking his head.
No! he cried silently to himself. It could not be. Elizabeth was too sweet—too wholesome—to have a totally monstrous father who would kill and maim innocent people.
His father’s voice brought Strong Heart out of his turmoil. He turned to his father and listened to him be the leader who Strong Heart could remember from childhood. As Strong Heart looked slowly around him, he could see that what his father was saying was reaching the braves, persuading them to agree with his every word and command.
“I will listen to no more talk about assisting the white men,” Chief Moon Elk said firmly. “Our people will fish the salmon as we always have. It is time to concentrate only on the welfare of our people. We must begin the preparations for the march to the canyon where we have always harvested the salmon in the autumn of the year.”
Chief Moon Elk shifted his eyes to Strong Heart. “My son, do you have anything to add?” he said, placing a hand on Strong Heart’s shoulder.
Strong Heart felt proud of his father at that moment, and was relieved that his father was able to ignore the pain of his leg, and lead his people again.
The raiders at least had not robbed him of his strength of spirit.
