Authors: Carol Finch
"I have promised to tell you the story of Whispering Falls in the Valley of the Elk. I will repeat the legend as accurately as my memory can permit. Heed its lesson, Mitskapa, and do not forget this story I unfold for you." Arakashe turned his attention to the towering crests that broke the evening sky. "Rose Blossom and Wapike, as this man was known among the Crow, had gone together to hunt on the bluffs in the Mountains of the Wind. At twilight, they stood contentedly in each other's arms, watching the long shadows fall upon the summits, listening to the thundering waterfall that spilled over the slopes to feed the never-ending river. As they whispered their vows of eternal love, Apitsa, the other man from the dark side of Rose Blossom's dream, sprang upon them. Apitsa was angry and bitter because he, too, was drawn to this lovely Crow maiden. He had come to fight for the woman he wanted as his wife. Both men battled fiercely, each firm in his belief that Rose Blossom was to be his destiny.
"But Bitshipe was hopelessly tied to Wapike. Her affection for Apitsa was not as great. Desperately, she tried to force the warring men apart before one of them brought the shadow of death upon the other.
"During this hard-fought struggle Bitshipe was flung aside by Apitsa, who was possessed by evil spirits that longed to avenge his crying heart. Rose Blossom stumbled back and her foot faltered on the crumbling ledge above the Valley of the Elk." Arakashe's jaw tensed as the scene flashed before his eyes like a haunting nightmare. "She could not keep her balance. As she plunged from the soaring heights and fell into the falls, her terrified voice mingled with the rushing waters that tumbled over the jagged rocks. Wapike's name was on her lips when she surrendered her life. The deep waters opened wide to accept Rose Blossom, and her spirit was offered to Morningstar as the sun hid its head behind the mountains."
Rozalyn had heard dozens of legends from the trappers, but the one Arakashe had unfolded piqued her curiosity. Although she had vowed to keep silent without interrupting his tragic tale, she could no longer hold back the questions that flew from her lips. "And what of these two warriors?" Her wide eyes scanned the majestic peaks to the northeast. "Did Wapike avenge Rose Blossom's death?"
"No, Mitskapa. It is not the way of our people, though there are many who are eager to adopt the practices of the white man and to change the custom of the peaceful Absarkoe." Arakashe drew his rabbit-skin blanket closely about him to ward off the evening chill. "In Wapike's heart-wrenching grief, the battle with Apitsa was soon forgotten. Swiftly, Wapike scrambled down the bluff in search of his lost love. There, beside the rapids, he waited for two days and two nights. He fasted and prayed for Rose Blossom to appear to him. When she did not come, he mourned his great loss. Apitsa, whose own heart was heavy with sorrow, fled from the mountains. He could not look upon the valley without remembering what he had done to the beautiful maiden who had taken hold of his heart. He became an outcast, shunned by the people of the Sparrow Hawk for his vengeful heart had wrought a tragedy and brought death to the woman he coveted as his own. His soul was shattered when he heard Wapike's name on her lips as she fell into the falls.”
The aging chief squirmed uncomfortably on his paint pony, his misty eyes taking on a faraway expression that touched his wrinkled features. "It is Bitshipe's sad story and her dying words that whisper in the great falls and echo along the walls of the Valley of the Elk. It was because of this tragic struggle between Rose Blossom and the two powerful warriors who wanted her that this legend came to be. Makhupa, the medicine man and shaman of the Crow, was very fond of Rose Blossom. He had long admired her beauty and lively spirit. When he learned that Bitshipe had perished in the falls his own heart was heavy with sorrow, and he made his way to the ridge that overlooked the valley. Raising his arms and his voice in a plea to Morningstar, he placed a lasting curse on the valley. Makhupa commanded the falls to whisper Rose Blossom's tragic fate to Morningstar so he would be merciful to her wandering spirit.
"Every creature of the earth that lived in the fertile valley now stands in stone. Time does not move beyond the towering peaks where the Mountains of the Wind forge the Yellowstone. The grass, the prairie fowl, the elk, and bear may be seen from the cliffs, as perfect and as natural as they were in life." A tear slid down Arakashe's weather-beaten face. "Even the wild roses, for which Bitshipe was named, bloom in colors of solid crystal. There the birds, even the great sparrow hawk, soar on mighty wings in motionless flight. Only the great falls continues to flow on its course across the colorful rocks, moving forever toward the sea. The air is alive with a sad melody and the mournful voice of Bitshipe continues to call to her lost love. In the Valley of the Elk, the sun and moon shine with petrified light, and because of this curse, our people no longer venture into the region beyond these crests. It is sacred ground. There, the memory of Rose Blossom lives on and the falls murmur Wapike's name."
"It is a sad legend," Rozalyn mused aloud. She peered off into the distance, imagining a place where birds soared in motionless flight, where a waterfall spoke with a human voice that was heavy with sorrow. It was not difficult to be caught up in the tale when she was overwhelmed by the magnitude of the mountains.
Rozalyn found herself wondering if there could truly be such a place where time stood still.
"It is a very sad story," Arakashe agreed. Nudging his pony, he pursued the treacherous path long the lofty crests. "The curse of the shaman shall remain on the Valley of the Elk for many snows. When it is Wapike's time to walk into the spiritual world of Morningstar, he will return to the bluff where he and Rose Blossom once stood. There he will answer the call of Whispering Falls and will search out Rose Blossom's restless spirit. Only then will the sparrow hawk dip and dive and feel the wind beneath its wings. Only then will the elk and antelope melt from stone to graze upon the rich grass that lines the valley."
"Wapike has taken no other woman for his wife?" Rozalyn queried. "But you said it was the custom of your people to live on, to make a new life with another squaw. Does Wapike have no other wives to console him?"
"Wapike will never take another wife. He cannot." Arakashe braced himself when the pony sidestepped along the narrow trail. "He cannot forget Rose Blossom's hauntingly lovely face or the tormented whisper of her voice. He cannot close his eyes without seeing hers shining before him in the darkness. When Rose Blossom perished in the falls she took Wapike's heart with her. What no longer belongs to Wapike, he cannot offer to another. If he did chose another woman, she would only remind him of Rose Blossom. He would have no love to give her. What could a man offer to another woman if not his heart? A man cannot speak if he has no voice, nor can a man offer love if he has no heart."
Dark penetrating eyes focused on Rozalyn, who had the uneasy feeling there was something about the legend Arakashe hadn't told her. "One must remember that so great a love can sometimes cause great pain. The legend of Bitshipe is one you will not soon forget. The lesson it holds for all of us is one of caution." The faintest hint of a smile rippled across Arakashe's parched lips. "When Hawk was young I brought him to this place to speak of the legend. He bravely announced to me that he did not wish to die while he still lived, that he would never fall so deeply in love that his heart would bleed. But he could not foretell the future, when he was destined to walk among white men and red men alike, calling all of them his brothers. He grew to be a great warrior among the Crow as well as the Longknives. I have prayed to Morningstar that he will find happiness, and that it will not be cut short by another warrior's vengeance."
Eerie sensations skittered up and down Rozalyn's spine. She felt as if the mountains were whispering to her while she and Arakashe blazed a trail along their perilous slopes. Was Arakashe trying to tell her that loving Hawk was a lost cause? She had had that very thought a thousand times in the past weeks.
"Remember well what I have told you, Mitskapa," Arakashe insisted, pinning her to the towering rock wall with a probing stare. "No one has challenged the curse of Whispering Falls. Time has its own way of righting the wrongs of our forefathers. It is the teacher of all things. You must remember the sad legend and avoid the valley of stone. When the curse is lifted, Wapike will walk into the river's waiting arms and life in the Valley of the Elk will be as it once was. Until that day, our people veer away from the mountain overlooking the falls. In the future, you will also speak of this legend. Speak of it with feeling and pass it onto others as accurately as your memory will allow."
When Arakashe had finished, he eased himself from his pony to make camp for the night. Rozalyn peered at the chief who silently crouched to build a fire to ward off the chill.
"I was stirred by the tragic legend," she confessed. "But I think there is more, something you are hiding from me. Has it something to do with the feud between my family and Hawk's?" Rozalyn could not imagine how her father could have had anything to do with the legend since her mother had been white, a descendant of the French aristocracy who had established St. Louis. Yet, Arakashe's remark about a man never being able to love again hit a sensitive nerve. That description seemed to fit her dispassionate father, a man who had made the fur-trading business his life, shutting out his family. Perhaps she was just grasping for some connection, she told herself. This might be just another superstitious tale like the ones she had heard from the trappers. Would she ever learn why her father had such a fierce grudge against Hawk's family?
"You are too impatient, Mitskapa," Arakashe chided lightly. "First you must ponder the legend. Later you will learn its meaning in your life. Not all stories have happy endings. My heart grows heavy when I consider my grandson, and I wonder if Morningstar will smile kindly on him."
Rozalyn prayed fate would smile upon both of them, but she dared not live on false hope. It was as Hawk had said. They had made a space in their lives for love and they could only revel in happiness until it was time for her to return home. She could expect no more than that. Arakashe had made it a point to remind her that happy endings did not necessarily follow when a man and woman fell in love. Was the wise, perceptive chief of the Crow preparing her for the worst? Was that to be her life story? Rozalyn trembled uncontrollably as she stretched out on her pallet by the fire. The more she contemplated the legend and Arakashe's words, the more depressed she became. Why had she dared to fall in love when she knew there was no future with Hawk? It had been easy in the beginning. Rozalyn had convinced herself that she could survive on blissful memories. But now, when the end was near, she wondered if she hadn't been a fool.
When she thought of Hawk, she found herself comparing their affair to a journey down a treacherous river. There had been turbulent rapids along the way, and also peaceful waters. But even from the distance they had heard the thundering of a waterfall, one they must approach. And now there was no turning back, Rozalyn thought disheartenedly. She and Hawk had been swept into a current of passion and there was no place to go but down into the torrents of water to the frothy pool below.
If only Hawk were here with her to chase away her fears . . . But he wasn't and she was left to drown in her dreary thoughts. She kept reminding herself that no one had promised her life would be happy and carefree. She had been existing in a fairy tale for so many months that she had forgotten there was such a thing as reality. Soon she must come to grips with it, and once she had taken the impending fall she would see the world as it truly was—cruel, unjust, and gracious only to a select few. But the worst part of it all was that the man with the dancing green eyes and raven hair would not be there to help her through the rough times ahead, times when the sweet memories of their mountain paradise would be lost to her.
Chapter 27
As Arakashe led Rozalyn through the Yellowstone she became increasingly aware that the fantastic tales of Colter's Hell were true. The sprawling lakes and hot pools that lay before her resembled morning-glory flowers in color and shape, and the sparkling waters that spilled over pastel rocks rivaled the beauty of rainbows. It was like walking into nature's sanctuary.
When the old chief reined his steed to a halt and gestured to the west, Rozalyn's awestruck gaze followed his arm, and she saw a steamy marsh in the distance. "This is the land of the spirit springs. Here, Hawk will come to take you with him on the hunt." Warm brown eyes fell fondly upon her. "I must return to my people to prepare for migration to our spring hunting ground." His tanned finger traced the exquisite features of her face and he blessed her with another smile, one that held a hint of remorse. "You have won a place in my heart, Mitskapa. May the Great Spirit of the people of the free-soaring Sparrow Hawk be kind to you."
To Rozalyn's amazement, the aging chief reversed direction and left her sitting amidst the steamy springs. "You aren't leaving me here alone?" she gasped in disbelief.
Arakashe twisted atop his pony, a confident grin lighting his wrinkled features. "You are a strong, resourceful woman, Mitskapa. Even the name I have given you speaks of your ability to survive the greatest trials. Wild Rose, as it translates in your native tongue, signifies that you blossom like a wild bud, taking root at will in this beautiful but perilous region. Soon Hawk will come for you. But for now, it is best for you to be alone in the land of Morningstar."