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"The Sioux are in mourning. Although they won many wars, Custer and his men had wreaked havoc on their villages, killing many women and children. Just two months ago it happened. During their mourning they seek to find a replacement for their dead. That's why they took her. It is their custom. A life for a life." Lucy began to explain, and everyone came to listen. "It means they take a white child to replace a dead child, killed from a white man's massacre. Custer, he hates the Indians, all of them."
"Replace? You mean they want to raise her as an Indian? As their own?"
Lucy nodded, "Yes."
"But they can't do that!" the woman exclaimed her voice rising with indignation. "She
's white."
"They can and have many times. Why do you think I live with them?" She stared boldly at the woman now.
Lucy saw the understanding dawning now.
The woman stared. "You were captured by them too?" Her voice was wistful, shocked even. "I'm sorry, I should have guessed."
"That's right, many years ago. They brought me up as their own." Lucy continued. "I grew to love them and respect them. They are my people now. Not the Sioux, the Cheyenne."
"But your white… how could you become one of them?" The way she said that, with just a touch of hate in her voice, had Lucy staring.
"How could I?" Lucy knew this woman knew nothing of the Indian culture and she knew she had to use understanding with her. "I was but a child. I knew nothing of wars or fighting. I am white, but I was small when they took me. I could not fight them. I did not hate them. A child does not hate, unless they are taught to. Because they loved me, took care of me, I grew to love them. They made me their own."
"Didn't your family… come for you?"
Lucy hung her head and turned away from her. "No," She began to walk off but turned and looked over her shoulder at her, "No one came. No one ever came. It is strange now that I think on it. When you are captured, at a young age, you wait, thinking they will come. If they don't you are lost until you accept the love that Indians give so freely to a child. When you are older, you don't want them to come any longer, for you know that shame would be upon you if they took you home. I do not know why this happens. But it does."
"Did they hurt you?" Gloria came closer to her now, needing to know more, wanting to understand it.
"No," Lucy knew she needed to know these things and was glad she was interested enough to ask. "They loved me, like their own." Lucy told her. "You see, I took the place of their dead child too. I was no longer white, but Indian to them. All I had to do was accept this. So, they loved me as their own just like they have your daughter. They treat her with love and kindness, and she is happy and healthy. I wanted you to know this, so you will not hate them. So, you can learn to understand their ways a little."
"Then… why are you helping me now? I don't understand. Why are you telling me all of this?"
"Because," Lucy paused and took a breath, and held the tears back that threatened to spill out. "I had prayed as a child, that they would come for me. No one ever did. Not one. I was so sure they would. But they never did. In all those years, not one. A cousin, an uncle, my grandfather, none of them came." She raised her chin now, proudly. "To see your determination to get your daughter back, makes me think highly of you. Now, do you understand. I respect you."
The woman's face softened on her now, with a sense of compassion. "Yes, yes, I think I do. Perhaps your folks died or something and couldn't come after you."
"Perhaps. I will speak to my people for you. They will listen to me."
"Will they give me my child back?"
"I do not know. But I will ask them to, for your sake."
"I don't understand? Why would you?"
"Because what you are doing for your child, is what I had wished my folks had done for me a long time ago. And for all the others that have come and have gone. I have seen many. When one is captured, depending on their age, they are afraid, confused, and wondering what will happen next. They miss their parents, for a while. Then in time, you accept what happened and go on, to survive. A child does not know to kill themselves, they only understand the love."
"Were there many captives?"
"Yes, through the years, there were several in our camp. Most adapted. Some… didn't survive."
"What happened to them?" Gloria asked her compassion bringing her suddenly closer.
"Some died, of disease, of accidents. Some survived and married later. The survivors became like me, Indian. What the white man does not understand is that there is no choice in the matter. You live and learn to love, or you die."
Then Lucy walked off.
Aiden watched her. He saw the slump in her shoulders, the way her head bowed. None of them, save him, knew the hurt she carried. For he knew even though Lucy was a proud Cheyenne now, she was also a proud white. He understood her confusion too. He always had.
He passed Gloria, "I didn't realize." She murmured.
