Page 8 of Red Hawk's Woman

Once gone, White Claw sighed deeply and turned to the chief of the Yellow Shawl Band. “Have hope, my friend. Although I realize it is a bleak day when we must choose Poor Orphan as a champion for your people, perhaps he will rise to the challenge.”

“But to send such a one?” said the chief. “He, who exhibits many of the same traits as the Thunderer himself?”

“Aa, yes,” replied White Claw.

The chief of the Yellow Shawl Band was not finished. “Is it not true that Red Hawk is quick to anger? That he is hard to forgive others, and even when the chance has been presented to him to show mercy, he has never yet given another quarter?”

“Indeed, it is so. But what else could we do? We could not send those who are sick or injured. And think well, my friend. Is it not true that in the past, all of the boys you have thought would qualify for this honor have failed?”

When the chief nodded, White Claw continued. “Maybe the boy will come into his own. Perhaps he will find the strength to conquer the evil that at times possesses him. We can only pray it will be so. For, my friend, the deed is now done.”

The chief of the Yellow Shawl Band grunted, frowning. “Aa, it is done. But though you are wise, I do not share your optimism.”

White Claw merely smiled. “Fret not. Remember that there is always the chance to end the curse within the next generation.”

The chief of the Yellow Shawl Band was not to be so easily placated. With a look of utter disgust, he shook his head bitterly. At length, he rose to take his leave of the council.

White Claw, last to exit his own lodge, sat for many moments in reflection. But then he too arose. There was much to be done today to prepare these youths. He had best make ready for the next council.

Chapter

Three

Setting down her trowel, Effie knew the time had come for a break. She exhaled deeply, and straightening up, wiped her brow of perspiration. Having helped her parents at the site of the dig throughout the early morning hours, she had done her duty, at least for a while. It was time for a bath.

“I am so hot,” she whined. She started to pout, but then thought better of her actions, and in a more adult voice asked, “May I go swimming?”

With a quick nod and a sweet smile, her mother endorsed the action. She did advise, however, “Stay close. It’s still quite hazy out this morning, and I don’t want you missing a step and falling.”

“I won’t do that, and I will stay close.” Immediately Effie’s spirits lifted. If there was one thing Effie liked most about accompanying her mother and father on these excavations, it was the sense of freedom she enjoyed. No one—outside of Lesley—treated her as if she were too young to know her own mind. And perhaps it was in response to her parents’ trust that Effie behaved herself uncommonly well.

Tantrums were an unknown affair. Truth be told, Effie considered herself as adult as the next person. She was simply trapped inside a child’s body.

“Is Lesley going with you?” her mother asked.

“No. She left with one of Father’s students, someone named William, I think. They said they were going to survey the lay of the land.”

“Oh. That’s nice.”

Effie sighed. “Yes, Mother. Now may I go swimming?”

“Of course, dear.”

“Thank you.”

Deciding to leave before her mother changed her mind or asked more questions, Effie padded toward her favorite spot. She could almost see the place from the excavation site.

Caught off to the side of the Big River—the Missouri River—was a splendid water hole. Not too deep, not too shallow, the place was hidden from view by long, green prairie grasses, as well as pine, cottonwoods and a magnificent willow. In the distance—and able to be seen from the pool on most days—were white-capped mountains, which favored the land with a fairytale appeal. It was the ideal place for a quick dip.

Effie knew it was dangerous to swim alone—and briefly she wished that Lesley were a little more friendly toward her, for it would be fun to have a swimming companion. But Lesley’s attitude in regards to Effie was far from amicable, except of course when Lesley wanted something.

Perhaps Lesley thought Effie too young. Certainly, Effie was the younger by four years. But in attitude, Effie considered herself to be the more mature of the two of them. Lesley exhibited more tantrums than Effie had ever witnessed in anyone.

As Effie trod toward the water, she couldn’t help but notice the profusion of pink wildflowers whose fragrances filled the air with a sweet scent. She touched their soft, dewy petals as she passed by them, her fingers coming away wet from the encounter.

Odd, in places this morning the fog was so thick she could barely see her hand as she flattened it over the grasses and flowers. But in other areas, the haze was starting to dissipate, lending to the land a cathedral-like profusion of golden streams of light slanting through the mist.

For an instant, Effie caught her breath, so beautiful was the sight—so profound. The moment felt sacred, as though she were close to something…something wonderful. Perhaps it was the Creator that she felt so near to, since such beauty could not be by accident.