Bittersweet Ecstasy (6 page)

“You do not know how happy you have made me, Alisha. I must speak with Gray Eagle; there is much to say between us.”

“He hunts with our sons and his band. Come, we will return to our tepee and await him. All will be good and safe; you will see.”

Since the others were resting or working inside their conical homes, no one saw them as they walked to and entered the large and brightly decorated tepee of Chief Gray Eagle. After Shalee served Powchutu buffaloberry wine and dried fruit pones, she pressed him anxiously. “Tell me where you have been and what you have been doing all these years.”

“First, you must complete your story,” he coaxed, eager to hear how she had spent these many years with his half brother. “Start from your first day in these lands, and leave nothing untold.”

Shalee laughed and teased. “You are as impatient as a child of two.” But she waxed serious as she confessed, “It is strange that you return from the grave on a day when I was reliving my past within my head. Fears and apprehensions fill the spaces in my heart and mind where joy does not reach. I command myself not to worry or be afraid, but the greed and evil of the white man are spreading so rapidly.” She lowered her gaze to prevent him from reading the remaining truth which was surely written there: his return seemed to signal Fate’s callings for those whom his Life-circle had touched or interlocked…

To distract herself from her tension and doubts, she did as he asked. He was amused and astonished when she revealed how years ago she had traveled to
Williamsburg to lay claim on Jeffery Gordon’s estate as his legal widow and heir. She had sold everything and then returned home, using the money to purchase guns and supplies for her adopted people. She talked about her family and friends, those dead and alive. Anger and bitterness crept into her tone as she related incidents similar to those he had witnessed or participated in when he had been a fort scout. “The soldiers attack camps when they are vulnerable or the warriors are away. They seek to destroy the warriors’ homes, families, and supplies. They burn and slay all within their evil path. Then they scorn us and attack again for our retaliation. They cannot even be content with trampling some tribes to the earth; they crave the annihilation of all Indians. I fear for the lives of my family and friends; I fear for the survival of our people. You come at a good time and a bad time, my brother, for the whites are massing men and supplies for what they hope is a final attack on the Oglalas. You have lived as white, but you carry Oglala blood; now you must choose your fate. If you side with us, you will probably die before winter returns to our lands.”

Powchutu knew he could leave the Black Hills and Dakota Territory this very day and return to a life awaiting him in New Orleans, just as he knew, if he did not, her warning would come true. He had known that the moment he had decided to come here. “Even if it costs my life to face Gray Eagle once more, I had to come before I left Mother Earth. I have no time or energy left to share with guilt and bitterness. The past is gone forever as each sun’s crossing of the sky. Here, I will live out my remaining days in peace, honor, and love. If my brother and his people will allow it, I will fight at his side and he will be my chief. Soon, my Lifecircle will be complete; this I knew when I left the white lands to return home.”

A voice which had not lost its strength and tone over the years replied from the tepee entrance, “Your words are true and wise, my brother. Before my second son was born, a vision came to me from the Great Spirit. I saw our father dying upon his mat when a warrior stepped from the nearby shadows. It was Gray Eagle; yet, it was not. I wondered, who but my son could reflect my face? When I learned of your existence as my brother, I understood and accepted that vision. My heart is full of joy and confusion at your return. Speak of such a victory over death and our past enemy,” Gray Eagle encouraged as he came forward and sat down near them. His gaze roamed Powchutu’s face and body, and he needed no white man’s shiny glass to tell him how much they resembled each other. He was surprised and pleased that no hidden resentment and hatred surfaced against this man who had been his fiercest enemy and rival.

The two men’s gazes locked and spoke, then both smiled, as if amused by some private joke. Gray Eagle remarked, “If we had ridden and lived as brothers long ago, our white foes would number less in our lands. You are cunning and powerful, my brother, for you escaped the Bird of Death. During these many past winters, our people could have used your skills.”

Powchutu grinned and responded, “If I had known the truth of our bloods and your forgiveness, I would have returned long ago. My heart fills with excitement and pride to call you brother and chief. I could die this sun a happy man. I will speak of my survival and of life far away.”

Powchutu repeated the account of how he had survived Jeffery Gordon’s murder attempt, which left him with amnesia for over a year. “For six weeks I was tended by Dr. Thomas Devane and his widowed daughter Sarah Anne Sims. They were good people,
but I was too hurt and confused to think much about them at that time. When I was strong enough to travel, the man named Frenchy sold me to a Spanish sea captain, but my enslavement didn’t last long. Two weeks out of port we were attacked by pirates and I was given the choice of sinking with the ship or joining up with them. Since I didn’t remember my past, I became a pirate. You don’t know how strange and scary it is to have no memory.” Gray Eagle and Shalee exchanged looks which said they were acquainted with that fear because of her bout with amnesia in 1782. Powchutu went on to explain ships, voyages, and pirates to the Indian chief.

“I sailed with them for six months, robbing and killing innocent people, always fighting and watching my back. Finally I reached a point where I couldn’t stomach that life anymore. I jumped ship near an American port that September. The only people and place I could remember were New Orleans and the Devanes. I made my way there, hoping they could help me find myself and peace. Tom’s daughter was very special, with gentle hands and ways and soft brown eyes and hair. Plenty of men wanted her, but she took a liking to me, thank goodness. She had married the man her father chose, Matthew Sims, and he’d died three months after their marriage, killed by a thief for a cheap watch and a few coins.”

Powchutu’s voice and expression softened visibly as he reflected on this area of his past. “Sarah Anne had made him a good wife, but she hadn’t loved him and they didn’t have any children. She had been a widow for two years when I first met her. We got real close, real fast, and I guess that scared me. Since I didn’t know who or what I was, but surely knew what I had been for months, I felt I had nothing to offer her and I was afraid of hurting her. I took off to sea again just
before Christmas. I didn’t know I left her carrying my child. Seems that wasn’t the first time I made that cruel mistake,” he scoffed remorsefully as he thought of Mary O’Hara and their dead child.

Shalee noticed the bittersweet love and sadness which mingled in the man’s eyes and voice as he spoke of Sarah Anne Devane Sims. She knew there was more to this part of his story, but she also knew not to press him. She passed Powchutu some water to wet his dry throat and lips. He thanked her, then continued his enlightening tale.

“Just before we reached port on our return voyage that spring, a terrible storm struck and I was thrown against the ship’s hull. My head was bleeding and throbbing like crazy. One of the sailors made his way to me and asked, ‘You hurt, Williams?’ I just stared at him as he kept calling me Paul Williams, and everything in my past started coming back as fast and furious as those waves were crashing over the ship. I realized that damned Frenchy who had shanghaied and sold me had known who I was, or who he believed I was, Alisha Williams’ brother. Lordy, some men are devils! I would have slit his miserable throat if someone hadn’t done it before I could get to him, just like you did to Gordon.”

Gray Eagle nodded as he recalled that momentous trip to kill the man who had set a bounty on his head, a man who had bought and sold bloody Indian
souvenirs,
as he called scalps, and possessions from brutally butchered warriors. He glanced at his wife and smiled, knowing that confrontation had resulted in them being reunited. She was still as beautiful and desirable as she had been at their first meeting. It did not matter that they were in their sixties, they still made passionate love upon their sleeping mat. He could not imagine life without her; she was his air, his heart, his joy, food for his soul.

Powchutu observed the look and felt the bond which was between them. His heart warmed, and he knew each of them had found the right destiny. If only his cherished wife still lived…

“After we weathered the storm and reached port, I went to see Sarah Anne to tell her I had regained my memory and I had to go rescue my sister Alisha. My gut was crawling with fear; I dared not imagine what Gordon had done to you. When I realized Sarah Anne was carrying our child, I married her, left her my money, asked Tom to watch over her, then headed out after you. With a little snooping around, I realized what had happened. I sneaked to your camp and watched you two for a few days. I could see you were happy and safe, so I returned to New Orleans and my new family. Our daughter was born in late August; we named her Alisha Gaston, since I was using the name my father gave me, Tanner Gaston. By then, I had told Sarah Anne all there was to know about me.”

A hearty laugh came forth as Powchutu remarked, “She knew every mean and bad thing I had done, but loved me anyway. She really changed me over the years, for the better. I had a family to take care of, so I went back to sea to earn a living. It was the only thing I could do in that area. I sailed ten months and stayed home two months of each year, until my son Stede was born in ‘86. My family was the most important thing to me, so I found work in port. I ran a shipping firm until I earned enough to buy it. Stede owns it now,” he divulged proudly.

Powchutu’s eyes became dreamy for a while as he thought about his family, a family he knew he would never see again. “We were real happy and doing good with our business. By 1803, America was annoyed because the Spanish wouldn’t let her ships use their ports; she solved her problem by buying the entire area,
called it the Louisiana Purchase. That’s what sent those explorers into this area, the ones you said Bright Arrow traveled with and earned his way home.” That land sale was intriguing to Shalee and Gray Eagle, so Powchutu explained its meaning. “I sailed with the Spanish to help America fight the British in ‘79. But America wasn’t finished with her old enemy. My son Stede went back to war in ‘12 when America and Britain fought for three more years.” Powchutu then explained, at Shalee’s request, the War of 1812 with her motherland before returning to his personal history.

“I was a lucky man to have found Sarah Anne. Stede is thirty-four, but his ship’s his first love. I was hoping he would be settled down by now, but he’s too adventurous and hot-blooded like I was. My girl Alisha is married to Wesley Clarion. They live in New Orleans and Wes runs the firm for Stede. They have four children, from thirteen to twenty-two, two boys and two twin girls. Their oldest boy Allan is Stede’s first mate. My Sarah Anne died two years ago, and I’ve been lonely and restless ever since she was taken from me. My children know all about me, or we thought they did, so they know why I had to come here. Like me, they know we’ve been together for the last time. I surely do miss being young and strong and happy,” he confessed.

Shalee looked at Gray Eagle as he looked at Powchutu. Both men were the son of a chief. Both had lost their first child. Both had loved and wanted her. Both had found happiness, love, and peace, despite their losses and perils. Both had found what they had been denied at their births, to meet and to get to know each other. Both had changed and matured.

“There is another reason why I had to return to these lands,” Powchutu revealed a new mystery. “After the birth of my son, I knew for certain the Great Spirit was
guiding my steps. While I was helping Sarah Anne into a fresh nightgown, I saw something I had not noticed on her body before that night, the
akito
of Black Cloud. The Great Spirit had guided me to the real Shalee and joined our Life-circles. It was shocking to realize Alisha was living as Shalee when I was married to the real Shalee. I wish you two could have known her. Tom and Clara did a good job raising Black Cloud’s daughter. I told her the truth about herself; I felt she should know who she really was. We both decided it was best if we didn’t return here and cause new problems or dangers for anyone, but Shalee died wishing she had seen her father again. I brought her body home to rest near Black Cloud’s on the land where she was born. Now all is right and they are at peace. I’m not angry about Running Wolfs silence. If he had claimed me, look what I would have missed in life. Every event, good or bad, pushed me toward my true destiny.”

“It is so, my brother, many times our lives or the lives of those we love have crossed each other. It is good the Great Spirit mated the son of Running Wolf to the daughter of Black Cloud. It is good her spirit now roams the ghost trail with her father’s. But we must keep such news hidden in our hearts. Times are bad, and it might cause trouble if my people learn we deceived them about my wife for these many winters. This is a perilous time when I must have their complete trust and confidence. Until we cease to breathe, Alisha Williams must live as Shalee, for this claim harms no one.”

Powchutu agreed. “I will do all you say, my brother. My heart is no longer bitter and my mind no longer dark. Our war has ended for all time.”

Gray Eagle focused his attention on the major problem at hand. “Many will see how our faces try to
reflect each other’s, but few, if any, will recall you as the scout who battled me so many winters past. Those who saw you as a half-breed foe no longer walk Mother Earth, nor will others remember when or where our paths crossed. We must not stain the honor and memory of our father by revealing his black deed against you. We must speak only as many true words as are safe. You will live here as the son of Running Wolf and Tamarra, but she will be a Cheyenne love, lost to him through trading before he could claim her as his wife. From this day forward, you will be claimed halfOglala and half-Cheyenne. No one must be told of your Crow blood, for we battle them as fiercely as we battle the whites. You will be named Eagle’s Arm, and you will live and ride with me. We will say your mother told you the secret of your birth when she died and you have returned to our people. We will say you have lived far to the south of our lands, which is true. We will not speak the name of Powchutu again, for you are no longer that half-breed scout. Only that truth which can hurt or destroy will be left unspoken. We will tell no one of such secrets except White Arrow and my sons. You are home, my brother, and Running Wolf’s spirit can rest.”