Wili was energetic, strong, fast and stubborn but he was also a child, a child who had just experienced a major trauma. He would not give Ruben Miderding the satisfaction of seeing his fear but he had been afraid. At the Sidell's he had been confused by Buford but more angry than afraid when Buford was about to horsewhip him. He had been definitely confused by Leah. She was good to him. She was nice but she was wrong. When he first got to Sidells', he was sure his Papa would come for him. But as days became weeks and weeks months, Wili had been afraid, not of the Sidells, but of the thought that he might never see his family again.
Wili did do his running. He played with Billy and Echo but for several weeks, unless he was working with his Papa, he would not leave the village. He would play in the creek but that was actually part of the village. But, even while playing, he would run into the cabin now and then just to reassure himself that his Mama was still there. He was more solicitous than usual to his sisters and he loved his brother and couldn't keep his hands off him.
But after the younger children were put to bed, Wili would cuddle into his Papa's or Mama's lap. He was eleven but he needed to be loved and to love. It had not been part of the old ways to cuddle a child as old as Wili but both Abraham and Fern knew that the boy needed it, and they found that they needed it too. Subsistence living had demanded a tendency toward belligerence. The old ways understood belligerence to be strength. It was believed that tenderness to a boy of eleven summers would make him weak. Both Abraham and Fern knew now how wrong they had been. Wili had been through a very frightening experience but he had remained strong and they knew that that strength had come because he knew that he was loved. They realized that the old ways sometimes required cruelty and that one does not have to be strong to be cruel They were coming to understand that love and tenderness will make a child strong so that he can be tough when life calls for it.
Dieter, usually called, De, was not a particularly welcome intrusion into the space and affection that had formerly been Sadie's domain. Her Mama's, Papa's and Wili's laps had been hers. Wili understood Sadie's whininess and gave her attention but he did so love that baby. Billy Hawk and Echo Mann had both been the youngest child and they found De fascinating and bickered over who would get to hold the baby first. Wili found himself the recipient of more than usual good will from his friends. De was his baby and he held the power to dole out the cuddling rights among preadolescent boys. He was not arrogant about those rights but Billy and Echo weren't jeopardizing their chances. Being the youngest, they had never been around babies and there was just something about them. They almost understood why girls liked to play with dolls.
Dolls had traditionally been made of prairie grass. Farther east they had been made of corn husks. Since the huckster and, more recently, Paul Mann's General Store, all little girls in the village had real dolls. The dolls looked like white babies but they were real dolls and the girls didn't care what color they were. They were pretending anyway so it wasn't hard to pretend that a white doll was an Indian doll.
Paul Mann's business was doing very well. He was less expensive than the huckster and much closer than any other town so he was picking up considerable white business. Actually, his clientele was now half Indian and half white. Keechee no longer worked in Paul's store. The white huckster from Goodland had been taking advantage of what he considered the Indians' lack of sophistication and was charging them exorbitant prices. Paul set up a satellite business with Keechee as the huckster. Keechee liked his new job. He could deliver the goods and do a little medicine manning on the side. The Goodland huckster had priced himself right out of business. He had to take a job at a livery stable.
The clan's rapid move into the new ways was not a repudiation of the old ways. It was recognition of reality. There was some nostalgia for the old, migratory ways but even that was giving way to "modern" comforts. Most still used the teepee in the summer and slept on a mat on the hard ground, but in the winter, a warm bed with a mattress had definite advantages over a mat on the cold ground.
The traditions of perhaps thousands of years may die in practice but almost never in memory or affection. Occasionally a family or two would load their teepee on a travois and set off into the prairie, set up camp and play old time Indians for a few days - both so their children could learn about their past but also in an attempt to themselves relive their childhoods. In future years they would hold annual ceremonies which, over the years, became more cultural than religious but were important to them for honoring and maintaining their proud heritage.
The ceremonies were not actually the Sun Dance. The traditional Arapaho religion was still very much alive at Darlington but in the Village, increased knowledge resulted in decreased superstition. Successes or cures that had formerly been pled from the spirits were now dealt with by physicians and new knowledge. Traditional, natural remedies that had proven effective were not forgotten and were frequently more efficacious than the medicaments of the white man. But those things that lay beyond herbs and concoctions, those things that had formerly been the province of incantation or dances, were more and more being resolved by science. Life for many in the village was a somewhat confusing blend of reverent nostalgia and exciting anticipation.
The member of the clan who was making the most surprising adaptation was Broken Bough. It didn't happen all at once and it took some weeks after the ceremony in which Wili was adopted before faint chinks in his iron resistance to the new way began to show. It was Wili's stubborn insistence on feeding the old man and his calling Broken Bough, "Grandfather," that began the incursion into the old man's hate. Broken Bough had spoken hatefully against the boy. He had pointed his stick out and turned his back on the council. He had been determined to die. But a little boy - a white boy - would not allow it. While he had been eating the broth that morning he tried to fight off the thought that perhaps there was some good medicine in whites but that thought would not go away. And then - Wili had respectfully called him "Grandfather." Broken Bough was an intelligent man, a wise man and over the weeks he had learned that even if you don't want it to be, wisdom is stronger than hate.
Abraham Fox was the first in the village to buy a white man's bed. He bought it from a catalog and Wells Fargo brought it to Goodland. The entire village was finding many uses for the Slatz wagon and heavy horses. It had made many trips to Goodland and even to Denver to bring back more and more of the accouterments of the new ways to the village. That wagon had brought the bed from Goodland. In fact it brought three before Broken Bough decided that he could make better beds and make them more economically.
Broken Bough had been the best arrow maker in the old ways. He had skilled hands and an inventive turn of mind. Siegfried Martyn had escorted Broken Bough to Denver where for a day he had watched a cabinet/furniture maker work. Broken Bough got the idea, bought the tools and some appropriate woods and began to produce some rustic but beautiful and highly utilitarian furniture. He built himself a shop, hired two older adolescent boys as trainees and even when doing business with whites, who, by-the-way, became more than half of his customer base, allowed himself to be called Bob - derived from the beginning sound of Bough. He did insist on his traditional name, however, in all inter-clan intercourse.
The three pre-adolescent boys, Wili, Billy, and Echo, who still lived in the village spent many hours watching Broken Bough seemingly magically turning boards into useful items: chairs, tables and, of course, beds. Broken Bough, who had once been respected as a great plainsman, now was respected as a highly skilled craftsman. He still missed the old ways but respect is respect. He could again hold his head high and slowly realized there was more in his heart than hate. He relished the respect of the boys - in fact, all of the clan - but the satisfaction of being respected was not all that was in his heart. Love was there again - love for a little white boy who had been too stubborn to be hated, too stubborn to let an old man die and so kind that he showed respect for one who had spoken cruelly against him.
Wili had never known grandparents. His first papa's and mama's parents were in Germany. His Indian papa's and mama's parents had died at Sand Creek. Wili made a grandfather of Broken Bough and he loved the old man as much as the old man loved him.
Billy had gone with his father to the herd. Echo had to help his father in the store. Abraham did not need Wili that day so the day was spent watching and doing odd jobs for Grandfather. He had been called home for an hour to help Ruth watch the little children while his Mama was at the creek washing clothes but by the time the sun was high, he was back with Grandfather.
Grandfather had bought a lathe and Wili was good at turning the crank at an appropriate and consistent speed. The crank didn't have to be turned overly fast. A gearbox multiplied the rotation of the stock to the rotation of the crank but it could still be tiring work. But Wili was strong and he loved helping Grandfather almost as much as he loved working with his Papa. He spent many of his pre-sleep moments struggling with the question of which he wanted to be when a man - a rancher or a furniture maker.
When the piece was finished and the lathe quieted, Wili froze in fear. He had heard conversation but the noise of the gouge against the wood had made it unintelligible. Even though he could not completely hear what was being said, something about it made him uneasy. Now that it was quiet in the shop, Wili heard and was horrified. Siegfried was there and another man - both speaking German. Wili, of course, knew Siegfried's voice but not the other man's. He had known Horst only briefly but he could think of no other German who would be at the village. Horst had come for him. Horst had come for him!
Wili turned pale and wavered as if he was about to swoon. Broken Bough held him and the sobbing boy begged, "Don't let him take me. Please go get my papa."
Broken Bough was about to send one of the older boys to get Abraham when Siegfried, three other men and a boy entered the shop. Wili's horror immediately turned to glee. The German man was not Horst but the boy was Vaasco and one of the other men was Vaasco's papa.
Regardless of how grown and sophisticated they think they are, the excitement of eleven-year-old boys can be cacophonous. It took, therefore, several minutes to get the situation sorted out. Wili and Vaasco embraced, jumped, squealed, laughed, cried, shouted and generally acted like - well - excited eleven-year-olds.
When the jubilation finally quieted and the story could be told it was this. The other German man was Wili's cousin, Wolfgang. He had come out to observe and make suggestions regarding the development of the Slatz/Coors Cooperage in Golden. He was, however, needed in the East. The New Bedford and Philadelphia operations had grown to the point that a knowledgeable, management-trained man needed to be in control. The Golden facility was doing well and had the advantage of skilled management through the Coors family but they needed a skilled cooper to oversee the manufacturing operation. Until Horst could get there, Vaasco's papa would fill that position.
That might be several months. Horst was back in New Bedford but his wife had just two weeks ago presented him with a daughter and, while it was still the intent that Horst manage the Golden facility, the baby was too young to make the trip. Horst would come out when he and his wife felt comfortable making the trip with the baby. It could be next spring.
Vaasco had a lot of family in New Bedford so his mama could get all the help and support she needed. Even if his papa was in Golden as much as nine months, she could manage. The Slatz Cooperage had agreed to give her Joao's usual New Bedford wage and to pay Joao double his wage and provide him and Vaasco room and board while he was in Golden. Triple the money to a large Portuguese family made an almost year's separation insignificant.
The third man was Major Chester, officer in charge of the Denver post while Colonel Reid was in the East. Richard Chester had not yet been notified of John's appointment as a General Officer nor did he know that as soon as John returned, he would be promoted to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel. He needed a serious conversation with Wili but it was obvious that he would get no rational decision from the highly animated boy now. He watched with amusement as the boys ran to Wili's mama.
Major Chester's concerns had nothing to do with Wili's custody. They had to do with the kidnapping trial of Leah Sidell. Ruben Miderding had disappeared - left his shack and his herd. Most of Miderding's herd, it turned out, had the ear markings of clan members who had moved just south of the Republican. The Indians retrieved their cattle and Murton Benson, whose ranch was east of Miderding's shack, burned the shack down. When the wind was right, it blew the stink clear to his house.
Leah had awakened one morning to find Buford dead beside her. Leah decided that he could not have died of a broken heart. He had no heart. She knew that he died because the hypocritical life he had built crumbled around him and he could not force himself to build a new, honest life - so he died. Whatever the cause, Buford was dead so he required no legal proceedings. The army which governed Colorado would look for Miderding, but not too hard. But they had Leah, and Wili's testimony would be necessary.
Wili and Vaasco burst into the cabin with such exuberance that they woke De. Fern was gracious with Vaasco but somewhat exasperated with Wili. As did any mother of five children, she always had things to do and even Indian's days have only twenty-four hours. De's nap times were busy times and soothing De was not part of the agenda. She was not angry but Wili was informed that there would be no playing until he had gotten De back to sleep.
The reparation did not intrude too deeply into play time. Vaasco was expert at soothing babies. He had five younger brothers and sisters. De was cooed and kissed and cuddled and again sleeping in five minutes. Wili and Vaasco headed for the creek, Vaasco's clothing scattered on the floor of the cabin.
Playing with Vaasco felt right to Wili but it also felt wrong. Wili had run from his old life and to have a part of that life intrude again gave a feeling of angst that Wili did not completely understand. He still liked Vaasco. It still felt like he was a best friend. But when Vaasco had been his only best friend, New Bedford had been there, the sea had been there and - Papa Dieter had been there. Wili thought often about his first papa and mama. They were happy memories because he never let himself think of Marvilla or Wina. He thought of his mama giving him a bath. He thought of her chasing him. He thought of the smell of pipe smoke as he cuddled into his papa's lap. It had been a good life but it was the old life. He had to run from it to the new life and he found it just as good - better, perhaps - because he so loved the prairie. He had new best friends and he had a papa who didn't drop out of his life everyday for several hours. He often worked beside his papa; learned from him; felt not only loved but needed by him.
Vaasco made him think of the old life and Wili realized that he felt guilty. The old life was a good life. His first mama and papa loved him and he was happy. But Wili could not deny that he loved his new life better. Should he? Was he in some way dishonoring his first mama and papa? But he'd have to think about that later. He'd talk to his papa about it. His papa could always help Wili see things clearly. Right now, Wili had to run as he always did when things concerned him. Wili ran and it was good to have Vaasco running beside him again. They were not running in New Bedford. They were running on the prairie and that kind of tied his two lives together. His feelings still confused him but his papa would help him sort them out.
A hot and sweaty Billy joined them just as the sun was touching the mountain peaks to the west. Billy had never heard of the Portuguese tribe and it took some persuading to convince him that Vaasco was not a Native American. He looked too much like an Indian not to be one.
But questions of ethnicity lose their significance when eleven-year-old boys are combined with water. Echo heard the commotion and convinced his papa that he was needed at the creek to make the conviviality complete. Creek, river or lake water develops amazing properties when applied to young boys. It can reinvigorate the bone weariness engendered by a day on a horse and wrestling with calves in the hot sun. It can evaporate the drudgery of sweeping floors and placing "millions" of grocery items on shelves. It can dispel the trepidation of eleven years of misinformation about savage Indians and it can drown in joy concerns about old and new lives. It was four wet and tired but "cleansed" boys whose growling stomachs sent them to their respective abodes at twilight.
All of the visitors took their evening meal with the Foxes. Wili and Vaasco had real difficulty containing themselves. Somewhere in the waters of the creek, Wili's ambiguity at seeing Vaasco again had been washed away. They both were extremely happy to see each other again and their giddiness and horseplay became so boisterous that both Abraham and Joao had to settle-down their respective animated sons.
At one point during the course of the meal, Wili spoke almost insolently to Wolfgang in German. Siegfried, also in German reprimanded the boy. It was not so much what Wili had said but the manner and tone with which he said it. Although Abraham did not yet understand enough German words to catch everything Wili had said but he recognized the tone and he too admonished his son.
"But, Papa, I won't go with him. I have told the colonel many times that I want to stay here. You love me. Wolfgang doesn't even know me and I don't even know him so I won't go with him."
"Did he say he was going to take you? Don't try to skin the buffalo until he is dead."
Abraham stroked his son's head. "I know you are afraid. I am afraid too, but do you hear me speak rudely to our guest? Even if you are afraid, you must not speak with disrespect."
Wolfgang said something in German to Siegfried.
"Wolfgang asked me to tell you that his family has asked him to determine if Wili was happy and properly cared for. He is in no position himself to care for Wili. He is single and must go frequently to Philadelphia. He will talk to Wili tomorrow but from what he's seen so far, he thinks it best for Wili to stay here. Horst's wife, with a young child and a boy who, perhaps, did not want to be in her home, would find it difficult. The family plan was to send Wili back to Germany to his grandparents if he were not happy or ill cared for here.
"I have assured him that Wili is both happy and well cared for and he agrees. He still, however, wishes to hear that from Wili. Even your gentle reprimand, Abe, had assured Wolf that you are a kind, loving parent."
Wili looked at Wolfgang and said in German. "I'm sorry that I was rude but I love my Papa and Mama. See my sisters and my baby brother. His name is Dieter - for my first papa. Please don't ask me to leave my family." Wili was in tears.
"Wolfgang knew almost no English. He said in German, "Don't worry. I am very sure that you will stay but I must tell you about your grandparents in Germany. They have many things that might make you more happy."
"Do they have a prairie and cattle and horses? Do they have three sisters for me or a baby brother?"
"No, but they have a fine house. You would have a bicycle and many toys. You would live in a fine city ..."
"I already did that. I lived in a city and had a bicycle and toys. Now I have a horse and if I need toys I can make them or Grandfather Broken Bough will make them for me. But I don't need toys. I help my Papa with the cattle and when I play I ride my horse or swim in the creek with Billy and Echo. We have many Indian games. We play lacrosse when school is on. We don't have enough for a game now."
Wili looked at Vaasco and switched to English. "It's not like lacrosse in New Bedford. It's almost the same but you get hit with sticks more and you fight a lot more. In Indian fighting, it doesn't matter who wins but you never quit. Even if you're getting beat-up, you keep fighting until the other boys make you stop so we can play more. I'm not as good as they are at Hoop and Lance but I'm better at rolling a hoop. I can run faster too."
Siegfried's translation of Wili's comments about fighting didn't take Wolfgang aback. It rather pleased him, as a matter of fact. It was like the Prussian ethos. "I think I already understand that but we must speak more tomorrow."
"Wolfgang, you must understand, I don't just love my family, I love the prairie and I love being an Indian. I'll talk to you but I will not go!" The tone again was insolent.
"Wili!"
"Sorry, Papa, but I won't go!"
Siegfried and Wolfgang were given Abraham's and Fern's bed. Wili usually slept in the loft but that was too far from De and the girls. Abraham and Fern slept in the children's room on mats. It was not a great inconvenience. They'd slept that way since infants but it did further convince them that the new ways were the right way to go.
Wili and Vaasco were joined in the Fox Teepee by Billy and Echo. Echo wanted to bring the twins but Wili explained that Vaasco was Catholic and it would probably be a sin for him. Tonight it would have to be just boys. Echo wanted to know what a sin was but Wili said that he'd tell him later. This was a time to enjoy his friends, not a time for a Theology lesson.
Major Chester slept in the encampment of his cadre of six troopers. There was not much danger but it was still not wise for Army personnel or for civilians to travel across the prairie unescorted.
Abe Fox really needed his son the next day but there were the conferences with Wolfgang and Major Chester. Buck Schwartz's oldest boy, Jay (formerly Blue Jay), was eight, almost nine. The boy could ride fairly well and was probably old enough to start marking smaller calves. Jay had gone out with Wili several times so he already knew the rudiments. He knew how to make the Fox/Schwartz mark. He just wasn't big enough to handle some of the bigger calves. Wili often held the calf while Jay made the mark. The boy was getting pretty good at it but the skill had not come without some pain. At first, Wili had not been the most patient teacher. If Jay didn't make the mark well or fast enough, he often got a knock on the side of the head. That, of course, led to a fight. That method of motivation halted when the boys' fathers told them they were out there to work, not to "play." It was decided that morning that Jay would do the calves he could handle and Wili would come out when he was finished talking.
Wili met first with Wolfgang. Wolfgang was already convinced that Wili was now more Fox than Slatz but felt the boy should know what his grandparent's home had to offer. He told of the opulence of the house, of the servants, of the quality of the food, of the family wealth and what it could offer Wili. He told of the fine schools and of parks and museums. He told of plays and operas. He told of fine carriages and blooded horses. He told and told and told until Wili got tired of listening.
"Wolfgang, look around you. If you were eleven would you trade this for all that stuff? I don't think all that stuff could make me happy because they could not love me. My grandparents might love me but I already have a family that loves me and I have..."
Wili was trying to find the word. Beside the love of his family he loved most the freedom of the prairie. He loved the prairie life. He just didn't know right then that it was the freedom from the press of too many people and buildings, from a traditional restrictive culture that demanded that one conform, and the freedom from having servants do for him what he could very well do for himself. The word didn't come to mind right then but Wili loved the freedom of the prairie.
"I understand, Wili. I will tell your grandparents that you are happy and well cared for here. You will stay Wili Fox."
Wili hugged Wolfgang. "But I'm Wili Slatz too. Tell my grandparents that. I don't know them but I love them. They just don't have a prairie and sisters and brothers for me. If I knew them before I got my new Papa and Mama and before I loved the prairie I might go to them but now, I can't. I like being both a Slatz and a Fox but now I need to be a Fox. Help them understand that."
"I can help them understand that because I understand it. If I were eleven, I think I'd love being an Indian too."
Wili hugged Wolfgang again. He was going to get to stay an Indian. He was going to stay with his Mama and Papa. He ran to the cabin, sat on his Mama's lap, hugged her and cried out his relief.
Wili was anxious to get to the herd to help his Papa. That may have been the best thing about being an Indian. Your papa loves you but he teaches you. He respects you and he needs you. But - he knew that he had to talk to Major Chester.
They went down by the creek. They just sat and looked for several minutes. Wili didn't wonder about it. He was as taken by the beauty and serenity of the place as he knew Major Chester to be.
"This is a beautiful place."
"Why did you take it away from the Indians?"
Richard Chester hesitated. He realized that he had no good answer. When he came out as a young trooper, he firmly believed in Manifest Destiny, that God willed that the "Christian" life style and the United States form of government cover the entire continent. Killing Indians and taking their land was a Christian duty. Killing a "savage" was a service to God and his fellow men.
But he had been a kid and knew about Indians only what he had read or been told. He was only a corporal when he began to question. By then he had known some Indians personally, knew them to be human, to be as loving of their families as had been his parents, to be, in many cases, very intelligent and wise. He had even developed some faint respect for their religions: their respect of natural phenomena, for the earth and her creatures. He would never understand their willingness to so quickly take human life but then it occurred to him that he was doing the same thing. He was, at twenty years old, conflicted. He had come to respect Indians as his fellow man but he also had a duty to his country. He chose duty but could no longer feel that he was serving God.
"When I was young I thought it was the right thing to do."
"Do you now?"
"No - I don't know."
"That's a dumb answer."
"It's the best I can give you. When you join the army you promise to follow orders. We were ordered to take this land and we did."
"Are you proud of what you did?"
"I'm proud that I followed orders."
"If they ordered you to kill my papa, would you?"
"They won't order that. The Indians here are pacified."
"What does that mean?"
"They are no longer making war."
"You made the war. They just tried to protect their homes."
"Wili, you are a very smart boy and you have questions that I can't answer. I wish the Indians and whites could have lived together without war but it didn't happen that way and all your questions won't change what happened. Some things are bigger than we are and we get caught up in them and we sometimes wish afterwards that we hadn't."
"Do you wish you didn't kill Indians?"
"Yes, I do."
Wili looked out past the creek to the prairie. He could see some of John Hawk's cattle. He could see Billy helping his father. He saw a man and a boy - a father and son. He saw a good friend and his papa. He didn't see Indians. He saw two fellow human beings.
"I wish you didn't kill Indians too."
Again they sat and looked, deep in thought. Finally Richard Chester spoke. "Wili, we need to talk about Leah Sidell."
"She didn't do anything. We need to talk about Buford."
"Buford's dead, Wili."
"Good!" Wili was surprised that he had said that but he didn't regret it. Even at eleven, Wili knew that Buford Sidell was an evil, sick man who, if he were alive, would probably hurt more people.
"Wili, Leah broke the law. She did not kidnap you but she was complicit and that makes her guilty."
"What's complicit?"
"It means she helped."
"But she was not bad. She was just wrong."
"She broke the law. Did you like what she did?"
"No."
"She needs to be punished."
"No she doesn't. She just needs to learn that Indians are not savages."
"I need you to go to Denver with me and tell the judge what she did."
"If I tell him, what will he do?"
"He'll probably put her in jail."
"She can't learn to know Indians aren't savages in jail."
"If you were the judge, what would you do with her?"
Wili thought for only a moment. "I'd make her come and live here. I'd make her live with the Indians so she would learn what they really are."
Richard Chester contemplated the boy's wisdom. How can an eleven-year-old be so wise and some of his troopers so foolish? Major Chester didn't think Wili's suggestion would fly but decided to let the matter rest until Colonel Reid returned.
"OK, Wili. Let's wait until Colonel Reid gets back. We'll let him decide."