Wili Slatz couldn't breathe. He should have been crying but he couldn't do that either. Before his hair had been grabbed and his head pulled back he had been crying. He had been kneeling beside his Papa, looking in horror and disbelief at the blood smeared, scalpless skull and lifeless eyes. As he knelt, feeling the horror of the moment, he could look past his Papa at her, also scalpless and bloody. The baby was not bloody but he knew that she was dead. She had screamed and cursed and kicked at the Indian. The Indian had grabbed Wina from her and threw her to the ground. Wina hadn't moved since. She had to be dead. Wili cried for Wina but not for her. He cried for Wina and his Papa. Wili tried not to feel hate for her. He tried not to be glad she was dead but he couldn't help it. Wili was glad she was dead.
But now he just waited, feeling nothing. He knew that it was the Indian pulling on his hair. He knew that his hair would soon be gone and he could bleed to death and be with his Papa again. He knew that he would go to heaven with his Papa and Mama and Wina and not have to worry about her ever again. Wili knew that she had gone to hell.
Wili wished the Indian would hurry up. He wanted to be dead. He was ten years old and everyone he loved was dead and he was alone in the middle of the Kansas Prairie. At least his Papa had said he thought they were still in Kansas. Maybe they were in Colorado Territory. The wagon master said he'd send soldiers back from Denver.
The Slatz family had been happy in New Bedford. Most German people went to Pennsylvania when they came to America but Dieter Slatz was not your regular penniless immigrant. Dieter's father was a very successful cooper in Munich. Slatz barrels were highly prized by the area breweries. Dieter learned the trade along with his four older brothers. Dieter loved his brothers but they were the problem. Slatz barrels were prized and business was good but Dieter, fifth in line for any management position, quickly accepted the offer to come to America and make barrels in New Bedford so that the salted fish and whale oil could be preserved and shipped. Business was good and Dieter and Ilse were happy. Yes, they missed home and family and it took a while to fit into the Portuguese community but they did make friends and when Wilhelm was born, they were extremely happy and content.
Dieter's business made him moderately wealthy. Ilse grew plump and jolly and his little Wili was his pride and joy. Wili was a husky, happy little boy. It was a happy home.
Ilse, too, took great pleasure from Wili. He was such an exuberant boy. He loved to splash in his bath water and as he grew older in the sea. But it was the baby and husky little toddler that made Ilse's heart sing. She would laugh with him as she bathed him and come away from his bath almost as wet as he was. She loved the unbounded joy that drove Wili to run naked and giggling through the house after his bath, Ilse, also giggling, running after him trying to catch him and dress him - such strong little legs what a cute, round, sturdy little bottom. It was a game they played and it was a game of love and joy. Running, even as a toddler, seemed to make Wili come completely alive. He was usually a happy little boy but when he ran, he was pure joy. Ilse's plumpness and Wili's natural agility had her plopping into a chair, breathing heavily and little Wili playfully coaxing his mama to try to catch him again. After a few tries, she gave up. Wili seemed to enjoy freedom from clothes and they were German so what did it matter.
Wili's lithe, husky, not fat, but compact and firm, healthy little body made Ilse proud. She was a good mama. Her boy would be a strong handsome man like his papa. Ilse loved the healthy, robust glow of that body so she did not insist that he clothe it. Wili, as he grew, continued to prefer freedom from clothes and their European heritage had not been tainted by the Puritan sense of modesty. When he was home and it was warm enough, Wili spurned clothing. He even occasionally played outdoors as he played in his house. His Portuguese playmates were also of European heritage.
Ilse loved the four year old but somehow she felt she loved him more when he was a baby, held close to her, suckling from her, being completely dependent on her. But as she thought, she realized that she did not love the boy less than the baby. She loved them differently and she so wanted to have both of those loves. She wanted more babies. Many times after Wili was born, Ilse's body had told her that it contained a new life but each time, her body could not continue to hold that life. Ilse would cry and Wili, as a toddler would wonder. His happy, loving mama was sad and that frightened Wili.
Ilse, after a period of time would seem to revert to her former happiness but Wili knew that it was not the same. Dieter also hurt for Ilse's disappointment but also for his. He too wanted more children.
When Wili was old enough to understand, he would be told that there was going to be a baby but there was no baby. There was only his mama crying. Wili, in his childish mind thought that the babies just didn't want to come and they were making his mama sad. He was angry at those babies.
Ilse cried when he was four. She cried when he was five. She cried when he was six. Wili's mama didn't cry when he was seven. She died.
Wili was not sad. He was angry with his mama. He had been told that the babies would come from heaven. Now he was told that his mama had gone to heaven. In Wili's seven year old mind, his mama loved these babies more than she loved him. The babies wouldn't come to his mama so his mama went to them. He tried to remember the love and the fun times with his mama but all he could think of now was that she was gone. She left him for the babies. She had fooled him. She made him think that she loved him but all she really loved was the babies.
He told his papa that. Dieter thought the boy was too young for a discussion of biology but as the boy became more and more morose and irritable, Dieter realized he had to tell the boy.
Wili wanted to believe his papa. He wanted to believe that his mama wanted both him and the babies, but what his papa told him about babies being inside his mama just didn't make sense. Vaasco Sanchiz had a baby in his house and you could hear it crying all the time. If his mama had a baby in her, why couldn't Wili hear it crying? Anyway, how would a baby get in there? Wili knew that his mama got fat sometime but Vaasco's mama was fat all the time so mamas just get fat. Wili couldn't think that fat mamas and babies had anything to do with each other. If his papa was right about his mama not wanting to go to the babies - if she really wanted to stay with him, Wili was sad. He didn't like sad. It hurt and he wanted to cry all the time. Wili decided that his papa was teasing him. Mad was easier than sad. Wili got back to being a kind of happy boy but he stayed mad at his mama. He didn't act mad. He just thought mad. It felt better than sad.
By the time Wili was eight, he wasn't mad so much. There was a kind of empty place in him that felt a little sad but by then, he was used to his mama not being there. When his papa was working, Vaasco's mama was Wili's mama too. She had too many other children to chase him and Vaasco around like his old mama did but she laughed a lot and she let Wili and Vaasco run naked after their bath. Since the mama was too busy to chase them, they chased each other. Wili's papa said that he was too old to run naked but Wili said that when he was at Vaasco's house, he was Portuguese like Vaasco and a lot of Portuguese boys ran naked, some until they were ten or twelve. They never went to the stores or to school or church naked but they played and even did their chores around the neighborhood naked. Most Portuguese mamas said that when it was warm, boys played too rough and that knees and elbows didn't cost anything to heal. Torn britches cost money.
Dieter didn't make an issue of it. By Wili's age, many boys in Germany, particular in the Slatz's social class, would have been embarrassed to be seen naked but this wasn't Germany and social class didn't mean much in the fishing community. A large portion of the New Bedford population was Portuguese fishermen so what seemed to be a Portuguese custom prevailed. Actually, the part of New Bedford in which they lived was just a transported Portuguese fishing village. In Portugal, little boys had run nude around their homes or to play in the sea for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years. So, even in New Bedford, it didn't seem to offend anyone. Even the English seemed not to notice and if they did, it was a distant, condescending aloofness toward these "savages". Wili had just suffered a major loss and change of life style. Forcing another change on him now seemed cruel to Dieter. Dieter knew that Wili would be more than willing to wear britches soon enough.
Dieter was a good papa so, even with Ilse gone, the Slatz home was a relatively happy one. As time went by, Wili's joyful demeanor bore only a slight tinge of sadness - a sadness that Wili felt deeply but did not allow to dominate him. He remained his happy, playful self. Only when he went to bed did he cry for the mama hug and kiss that were no longer his - and, of course, bath time would never be the same. Even the gleeful giggling and rowdiness of bathing with and chasing Vaasco was only a thin veneer over the sad remembering of what bath time had been with his mama.
Dieter loved his son but he was only thirty-four years old and he was lonely. There were very few Germans in New Bedford and, while he had friends among the Portuguese and English, he could not completely fit in. He spoke English reasonably well and his Portuguese got him by but on the occasional evenings he went out, he just did not feel at ease with his friends at a Portuguese caf‚ or an English pub. Dieter knew the protocol in der biergarten but not in a caf‚ or a pub. He would enjoy himself but not completely. He was always ill at ease. He didn't know the songs and he didn't know enough words to tell his German jokes in either English or Portuguese - and the English were condescending and the Portuguese drank too much.
But it was the ribald humor, the crude remarks about the bar maids, the general disrespect for women that made Dieter most uncomfortable. He was not a prude but he had loved Ilse deeply and he sincerely wished that he could find that love again. He had a longing for a good woman and he hated to hear them insulted, to hear them spoken of as things. At that point in Dieter's life, the memory of Ilse's love was almost sacred and so women were almost sacred. He needed the love of a woman and Wili needed a mother.
By the time Wili was eight, Dieter felt it appropriate to court but he could find no one to court. Although he was not a deeply religious man, his Lutheran upbringing made him loath to look among the Portuguese Catholics. He wondered at that. Most of his employees were Portuguese Catholics. They were fine men and Joana Sanchiz was a fine woman. He didn't recall ever hearing anti-Catholic rhetoric in his home but he had an almost instinctual sense that there was something wrong with being Catholic. For whatever reason, Dieter gave no thought to looking among the Portuguese.
Dieter's business had grown to the point that most of his time was required in management functions. He missed the hands-on feel of the oak, the smell of the wet wood as it was curved and fitted together. He missed the satisfaction of seeing a completed barrel, knowing that he had brought a project to completeness. Management seemed to have no start and no finish. He went home every night leaving much undone but knowing that he needed to be with Wili. He had good men. He had personally trained many men who were the equal of the best that Slatz Coopers had in Munich. He had good men who were responsible management assistants but the business was his and he was ultimately responsible. There was success. He was now shipping to breweries in Boston and Philadelphia. But there was always the pressure of not enough time - and the loneliness. His only real joy was Wili. Dieter thought Wili should be enough but he wasn't. Dieter needed the love of a woman.
It took only a week for Dieter to realize that Marvilla Tilford-Hay was not that woman. She had come to his office on the pretence of collecting money for charity. Even in that role, Marvilla was not a pleasant woman. She had the superior, condescending mien of the English. It was obvious to Dieter at that first meeting that Marvilla was not interested in charity. She was interested in him.
Dieter donated a small amount but that did not mean the end of Marvilla Tilford-Hay.
It was a week before Dieter realized what was happening. It seemed that everywhere he went outside his home or his work, Marvilla Tilford-Hay was somewhere near by. She would show up at his door as he was leaving for work and ask to be driven somewhere. She would be at the grocer's when he shopped for food. She would be at the park when he took Wili to play. As time passed, she became bolder. She asked him to dinner. She asked if she could sleep in his spare room as her family was having guests and there was not enough sleeping room for everyone. Dieter tried not to be rude but he eventually had to forcefully tell her that he had no interest in her company.
But the Tilford-Hays were not finished with Dieter. Dieter was not a heavy drinker but he did enjoy an occasional beer. He found that since he could not get German beer, he preferred English ale to the Portuguese brews. One evening while he was nursing a pint in a nearby pub, he felt a pat on the back. He looked up into the face of Nigel Tilford-Hay, Sir Nigel as he demanded to be called. He claimed that he had inherited the family dukedom. He was only in America temporarily to see to some family real estate investments. He was in New Bedford investigating other investment possibilities.
He was a bit more pleasant than his daughter. He was very proper but did not project the haughty superiority of many of the English in New Bedford. Dieter rather liked him. Dieter bought Sir Nigel a pint and later Sir Nigel reciprocated.
Dieter's head ached and his limbs felt heavy. He opened his eyes to an unfamiliar room. He slowly became aware that he was in bed, naked with a naked Marvilla.
Dieter was confused. Why was he here? His last memory was chatting with Sir Nigel in the pub. His mind cleared slowly but finally the full understanding of the situation dawned on him. He sat bolt upright. He glanced at Marvilla. She seemed to be still sleeping. He got out of bed and in a stupor gathered his wits and his clothing. He dressed and quietly left the room and the house without, he thought, being seen.
Wili had passed the night at Vaasco's. He came home that morning to a different Papa. He greeted Wili with a hug but talked funny and mostly just sat and stared at the wall. When Wili talked to him he was answered by grunts or single words.
Over the next several days, he talked right and didn't stare but he wasn't the same Papa. It wasn't the same as when his Mama didn't get a baby or even when his Mama died. It was kind of like before his Mama didn't get a baby but worse. Wili could tell that his Papa was worried about something.
And Dieter was worried. What had happened? Dieter had heard of people being drugged and he was sure that is what happened. But why and by whom? He had asked the pub landlord and was told that Sir Nigel had said that Dieter had just drunk too much and that he would take care of him. But Dieter had had only three pints. He was German. Germans don't pass out after three pints. Dieter had drunk five pints over an evening and was hardly drunk. And even if he had passed out, why was he put into bed with Marvilla?
Who were the Tilford-Hays? They had only recently arrived in New Bedford - they said from London. But, in truth, there were no Tilford-Hays in New Bedford. There was the Scruggs family whose ancestor, Jack Scruggs, had been exiled to the Georgia Penal colony two hundred years before. There was no Sir Nigel Tilford-Hay nor Marvilla Tilford-Hay. There was Natty Scruggs and daughter, Matty. They were rather accomplished confidence people - who would in the twentieth century be called grifters.
Had Marvilla been that determined that she would enlist her father in her pursuit of Dieter? Well, no - actually it was the other way around. "Sir Nigel" planned the villainy and "Marvilla" was his shill. They had left a string of jilted "husbands", empty bank accounts and questionable deaths along the Atlantic coast from Georgia to Massachusetts. Dieter's money and his unmarried situation seemed to make him the perfect mark. But he had proven to be a difficult mark. "Marvilla's" wiles had been enough to lure their marks in the south, but this German was tough. He would not take the bait. They had never tried the drugging thing before and were not sure they wouldn't kill Dieter. But it had worked out and now they were ready to make their move.
And make that move they did. Six month after that unpropitious night, "Sir Nigel", a very pregnant "Marvilla" and the local vicar were sitting in the Slatz parlor cajoling Dieter to do the right thing.
Dieter had no memory of that inauspicious night. He suspected that he was being set up for a swindle but there was also the possibility that the child was his. He could not bring himself to allow his "flesh and blood" to be left, unprotected, in the hands of "Sir Nigel" and "Marvilla." It was not a pleasant thought but he had to make this work.
It didn't. Marvilla was now not only pompous and condescending but she was demanding and peevish. After the baby was born she only became more difficult. It was obvious from the little girl's appearance that Dieter was not the father and Marvilla was sure Dieter would send her away. She became frantic. She could not get any information from Dieter about his finances. She made demands and threats but Dieter held firm. He told her nothing about his finances.
Nigel had gone to the bank with a forged letter granting Nigel permission to withdraw from Dieter's accounts. It didn't work. Dieter had advised the bank that money was to be given only to him personally. Nigel was annoyed but Marvilla was furious. Nigel, however, insisted that she stick it out.
It had been so easy in the past. Each of her new "husbands" had quickly given her what she needed to know and Nigel had cleaned out bank accounts or pillaged secret hoards and they were off to the next town and the next victim. But now she ended up with a baby she didn't want and was forced to live with people she despised, particular Wili. But Dieter could be their biggest score so she had no choice. She had to stay - as long as Dieter would let her. Actually she wondered why he didn't make her leave. Certainly Dieter had noticed Erwina's obvious Portuguese features. Marvilla hated having the baby to care for - but the process of making it - well, it almost made it worth it. She still often stole away to be with Leitao.
Dieter was conflicted - not about Marvilla. He knew that she was seeing Leitao but he was actually glad she was. It took her away from the house and away from Wili and Dieter certainly had no physical interest in her. It was the baby, Erwina, who created the dilemma. He knew that he was not the father but she was a baby, a tiny human being who should not be left in the care of such as Marvilla. And - Wili loved the baby so Dieter did not force Marvilla to leave. He knew that Marvilla did not want to be there and she did not want the baby. He was sure that eventually she would leave. It was unpleasant but for the sake of Erwina, he would bide his time.
Wili had no concept of genetics. The fact that Wina looked more like Vaasco that she did him did not puzzle Wili. Babies were babies as far as Wili was concerned. That's how babies looked. All of Vaasco's babies looked like that. Anyway, Wina was theirs and - oh- he loved her. Dieter saw that. He saw his happy, loving little boy again. Wili was sure that his Mama had sent Wina from heaven so he could be happy again.
Marvilla, too, saw the happiness in the boy. Actually, she detested the boy. It was bad enough to have to live here but that uncivilized little savage turned her stomach. He actually ran around the house naked. He belched and passed gas. He made a mess when he ate. When he did wear clothes, he left them lay around. He talked too much and he giggled. He brought that naked, heathen Portuguese into the house. So far as Marvilla was concerned, Wili had no redeeming quality.
Marvilla's disgust for Wili was part of her ploy. Her British properness was feigned. Her English childhood in Georgia had been more London slum than Windsor Castle. But if they were to carry out the scam, she needed to act - and act she did. She railed at Wili's lack of modesty. She bought him stiff, British school-boy clothing and made him sit doing nothing for hours to teach him that children should be seen but not heard to teach him proper English decorum. She would not allow him to play with Vaasco. She would, in fact, not let him play at all because a proper English gentleman did not waste time on frivolity. She even, at times, if Dieter was not there, unleashed her ire with blows - always being careful not to strike the boy in the head or face. Everyone knew that caning is necessary to create a proper English gentleman. And, finally, because she saw that the boy took joy from Wina, she refused to allow the boy to go near the baby. Wili became sullen, combative and withdraw.
Dieter tried to explain why he was tolerating the situation but Wili was even angry with his Papa. Letting her in their house had changed everything. The only good thing was Wina and now even that had been taken from him. Why did his Papa let her treat him as she did. Had Dieter known the extent of Marvilla's evil he would not have but he did not consider even Marvilla capable of such cruelty.
It was when Wili showed his Papa his bruises that Dieter realized something had to change. He talked to the Magistrate about keeping Wina and forcing Marvilla to leave. He was told that the whole town knew that he was not the father of the child so legally he had no claim on her. As far as the neglectful mother thing, it would just be his word against hers.
Dieter suggested to Marvilla that she leave. She did not love Wina and he would not have her cruelty to Wili. Marvilla wanted to leave. She begged "Sir Nigel" but this had gotten to be a personal thing with Nigel. He had been successful with all his previous marks and he would win this one - no matter how long it took. Marvilla was to stay!
Joana Sanchiz, Vaasco's mama, had an eighteen year old daughter. Dieter would pay the girl to help her mama care for Wina and Wili when he was not at home. He told Marvilla that he did not care where she was but she was not to go near those children unless he was with her. Marvilla again begged Nigel to give up on Dieter. He was just too much trouble. Even if he was the richest of all those they had scammed, all his money would not be enough to reward her for having to change shitty diapers and putting up with cocky, feisty little German and Portuguese imps.
But, in Nigel's mind, this was now a war. He was obsessed with this troublesome German. He hated Germans. Germans had diluted the royal English blood and, although he knew nothing of history, he was sure that it was that polluting German blood that caused whichever king it was who created the Georgia Penal Colony. If it wasn't for the Germans, his ancestor, Jack, would never have been exiled. Nigel really believed that if his family were still in England, he would, indeed, be a Duke. He was not about to surrender or even retreat. He would get this German pig. Marvilla was told to do as she was told or what had happened to their mark in Charlestown could happen to her. Marvilla had not known for sure until that moment that Nigel had murdered Robert Nelson, a small cotton gin owner and her fourth "husband".
Six weeks after Dieter realized that Marvilla would not leave, Horst Slatz, Dieter's nephew, the son of his oldest brother, arrived in New Bedford. Horst would manage Dieter's New Bedford business. Dieter was going to Denver where rumors had it that a German named Coors planned to expand his Denver Bottling Company and establish a brewery in nearby Golden, Colorado Territory. If that were true, there would be a good business opportunity in Colorado Territory. If not, Dieter was sure that, once away from Nigel's influence, Marvilla would leave. To assure that Nigel would not follow them, Dieter had "loaned" Nigel one thousand dollars with the caveat that Nigel sign a note promising to repay in one month. Dieter had no intention of recovering his money. He knew the money would not be repaid and he could then have Nigel held in debtor's prison at least long enough for Dieter and his "family" to disappear.
Marvilla did not leave but she made the trip hell. It had been Dieter's intent to take the train the entire way but Marvilla had made herself so obnoxious and created such disturbance and ire among her fellow travelers that Dieter could no longer purchase railroad passage. Conductors considered putting her off at some whistle stop in Illinois but Dieter prevailed upon them to wait until St. Louis.
By 1870, wagon trains were almost non-existent but some westward emigrants found it more economical to haul their possessions via wagon rather than to pay railroad freight fees. Most had more time than money. Dieter was able to sign-on with one of the last wagon trains ever to leave St. Louis.
Marvilla refused to stay in St. Louis or to accept Dieter's offer to pay her fare back to New Bedford. She was afraid of Nigel's threat. She did not know of the wire sent from Charleston to surrounding jurisdictions describing a Sir Thomas Garton who was wanted for murder in South Carolina. The description was an exact match of the features of Sir Nigel Tilford-Hay. Nigel had gone from debtor's prison in New Bedford to a jail cell in Charleston two weeks after Marvilla had left. Had she gone back, she too would have been arrested.
Marvilla's behavior with the wagon train worsened. Her ranting and cursing evoked the image of a medieval London slum crone. She stole. She picked fights. She terrorized little children who wandered too near her. She appeared to be insane. She was not. She was evil.
Finally, just west of Goodland in Kansas territory, the wagon master had had enough. Dieter was told to pull his wagon out of line. He had to leave the train there. Dieter argued to be allowed to stay on until Denver or at least be guided back to Goodland. There would, however, be no concession. She had caused too much trouble and caused too much delay. He had the other members of the train to think of. They could go back to Goodland or proceed to Denver on their own. The trail was well marked. They would be safe. The local Indians were peaceful and there was no danger from outlaws or wildlife.
Dieter acquiesced, agreeing to wait a day and then proceed on to Denver. Goodland was nothing more than a saloon and three poorly built cabins. There were some prosperous looking ranches nearby and the county sheriff lived near Goodland but it did not give Dieter the feeling that Goodland was a place of sanctuary. Dieter felt some comfort in the fact that the wagon master promised he would send soldiers back from Denver to meet them. It was, in a way, an empty promise. They would still be on their own for at least several days. Dieter was an urban child - a man of the city. He was not a westerner. He had depended on the constabulary for protection all his life. He was not sure he could protect himself, much less his "family" should the need arise. It was with reservations and apprehension, that Dieter watched the wagon train disappear over the western horizon.
The wagon master was correct about the local Indians. They were a small band of about seventy Southern Arapahos, whose chief had impressed the local military commander with his acceptance of reality. The buffalo was gone and Indian tools of war were no match for the white man's technology. Actually, the entire clan showed an eagerness to learn and adapt to the customs of white culture.
They were to have been removed with the rest of the Southern Arapahos to the Cheyenne/Arapaho reservation near Darlington Agency in Indian Territory. But with the reluctant acquiescence of the Bureau of Indian affairs, Colonel John Reid secured permission for them to stay on several thousand acres of government land on the Kansas-Colorado border. They had built cabins and were trying to learn farming techniques. They were eager but not really successful. The climate was too dry and the soil too poor to do the kind of farming Colonel Reid was trying to teach them - the type of farming he had learned as a boy in the fertile lands of south-central Pennsylvania. In time both Colonel Reid and the Indians would switch to cattle ranching and/or adapt their farming to the environment with primitive irrigation and appropriate crop selection for that environment and the little community would dissolve as these progressive people slowly merged themselves into mainstream culture. But now, in the early 1870s, life was difficult.
Yes, the wagon master was correct about the local Indians. He was also mostly correct about the wild animals. With the buffalo and the deer mostly gone, predatory cats and wolves tended to stay in the mountains. There was always the chance, of course, of an isolated incident but it was slight. Outlaws were perhaps more a problem but they tended to stay away from wagon trains even now when the trains were smaller, fewer men to fight off but also poorer travelers with much less possible loot of value.
But, the wagon master did not know about Norman Munson. Actually, no one on the Kansas/Colorado border knew about Norman Munson. Norman was born in Iowa in1830. His mother came from a family of drifters, very poor people who lived wherever they happened to be. They had a horse or mule and a wagon and slept under the stars. They lived on day work, scavenging and sometimes petty theft. They tended to drift south in colder weather.
When Bertha Munson was sixteen she was kidnapped by an Iowa Indian. Actually, it was a kind of kidnap/runaway. People like Bertha were disdained and shunned. Bertha knew what the Indian wanted. She liked the attention she was being paid. She liked the food she was being given and although the act was not a new experience for her, copulating with an Indian added to the thrill.
In her society, bodily sensations were the only real pleasures and their exploration was sanctioned and even encouraged from early childhood. She had done it since middle childhood but there was a wildness about this. This was a savage ravaging her and it was ferocious and frenzied and it did things to her body and mind she didn't understand but of which she couldn't get enough. It was a kind of freedom from the usual, a breaking away from the mundane misery of her life. It was new and different and wonderful and she might even get a baby from it - something she could finally call her very own.
When there was a chill in the September air, her family just left. They didn't look for Bertha. They were, in fact, relieved: one less mouth to feed and one less adolescent to deal with. She stayed with the Indians. Her life was more stationary but otherwise not much different. She was not a member of the tribe. She was, in fact, a sort of slave. She did the work expected of her and the sex but it had become as mundane as that of her childhood. But she was fed and in a manner of speaking, accepted and when Norman was born, happy as much as she understood happiness.
Bertha and Norman lived with that Iowa band until soldiers arrived to force the Indians onto a reservation in Indian Territory. When they found a white woman living with the band, they would not allow her to go with them to the reservation. For ten years Norman had been the pariah of the Indian children and the recipient of many adult curses and kicks. But among the Indians he was cowed. It was not safe to be angry or fight back. Outwardly he was docile but fury was simmering in his gut.
Bertha and Norman were taken to Sioux City. The only work she could find was prostitution. She really didn't mind. At least she got paid for it now and for the first time in her life she had money. She did not, however, have any idea how to use her money or how to be a proper mother.
Norman lived on the dirt streets and was as much a pariah to the white population as he had been to the Indians. He didn't fit anywhere. Everyone looked down on him and it was now safe to be angry and fight back. Frequently for the next five years, Norman was jailed with adults, drunks and outlaws. He learned to be tough and that fury that had simmered now boiled into a hate that was barbarian and lustful of retribution.
At fifteen, Norman first fulfilled that lust by murdering a store keeper who didn't want any half breeds in his establishment. The too-compassionate judge felt that a fifteen year old - even a half-breed should not be hung. Norman spent the next twenty years in prison.
Norman granted his own parole. The "papers" were signed in the blood of two prison guards. His years in Sioux City and in prison had made his hate for whites deeper than the hate he had for Indians so he decided to live as an Indian - not with the Indians; he hated them also - but as an Indian. He murdered the first Indian anywhere his size he came across, stole his buckskins and feather and headed west.
Norman Munson "died" that day. He was not going to carry a white man name. Neither was he going to carry an Indian name. As far as he was concerned, he had no name. As the years passed and he moved through the west, leaving pillage and murder in his wake, others referred to him by that ubiquitous pejorative, The Breed.
The wagon master had heard of The Breed but the last he'd heard, The Breed was down in Indian Territory. When he left Dieter, The Breed did not even enter his mind. He should have.
The Slatz passed the first night peacefully enough. Wili had found enough water in the nearby stream to amuse himself and had gone to bed in the wagon to the ranting of Marvilla at his nakedness and to sleep to her ranting at Dieter for having brought her to this god-awful place. When Wili woke, Marvilla was still ranting and Dieter was calmly going about setting a fire. Wili went into the tall grass to satisfy the usual bodily demands. He was about to return when he heard the screaming. It was not the usual Marvilla rant so he stood and watched in horror as Marvilla kicked at and cursed the Indian. He saw the Indian snatch Wina from Marvillia's arms and throw the baby to the ground. He saw the Indian stab at Marvilla and bend over her to take her scalp. He saw his Papa run to Wina. That seemed to be the first the Indian had noticed Dieter. Had Dieter been as concerned about himself as he was for Wina, he might have lived. Wili watched as the Indian hacked away at Dieter's scalp and then went and finished with Marvilla.
Wili had no idea how long he had stood in his trance of horror but when he could again think, the Indian was gone. He ran to his Papa's side and knelt beseeching his Papa not to die. But Wili knew he was dead. They were all dead so it was with a kind of relief that he felt his hair grabbed. He, too, would soon be dead.
But Wili did not feel the sting of the knife. He heard a devilish scream and realized that his hair was no longer being held. He turned to see the Indian appear to be looking at him, his eyes glassy and a knife in his throat. The Indian remained upright for a moment and then fell on his side. Immediately another Indian was hacking at the dead Indian's scalp.
Shock can do funny things. Wili was in a kind of eerie calm. He was thinking that it was OK. If the first Indian didn't kill him, this one would. He was supposed to be dead but he could wait. As he watched serenely, it occurred to him that this Indian was a boy, not much older than he. It even occurred to Wili that this Indian wasn't as good at scalping as the first Indian.
The young Indian tucked the hair of the scalp under the thong supporting his breech cloth. He wiped the blood off the blade on the buckskin shirt of The Breed and walked toward Wili.
"You was dumb as hell comin' here when The Breed was in your wagon stealin' stuff. He near 'bout got your scalp too."
So, Indians talked the same way the English did in New Bedford. Wili looked at the knife, wondered briefly how bad it would hurt but mostly wished the Indian would hurry up.
"Name's Eagle Shadow. Used to be Obadiah Dugood when I lived with Ma and Pa Dugood. Ain't no more."
The boy looked at Wili as if he were expecting a response. He got none. "Reckon you'll be fine. Your talk will come back. Mind done it after it quit on me when I was thinkin' them Indians was gonna kill me.
"You're thinkin' I'm gonna kill you, ain't you. I ain't so you might as well get to talkin'. We best be getting' back to the village. Tall Man be real proud I got me The Breed. Breed killed Thunder Eagle and Tall Man ain't got no more sons. Thunder Eagle all he had. Weren't but fifteen summers and he done me real good. That's the cause I went lookin'. Took Tall Man's best horse. He be lookin' for me. Beat me good when he find me don't I get a chance to show him The Breed's scalp first."
Eagle Shadow/Obadiah went to climb onto his horse but Wili stood for a moment and then climbed into the wagon. He came out with a shovel. He walked to his Papa and tried to dig. The ground was rock hard.
"What you doin'?"
Wili continued to pound the shovel into the ground. It barely left a mark. Wili seemed not to notice. Even in his shocked, almost trancelike condition, he knew you didn't just let dead people lie. He somehow knew it was a sign of respect to bury dead people and he intended to give his Papa and Wina that respect.
Eagle Shadow realized what Wili was trying to do and took the shovel from the boy. The larger boy had no better success. When Eagle Shadow stopped trying, Wili again hacked away at the ground. He was not aware that he was making no progress. He was simply driven to give his Papa and Wina respect.
If Wili heard the hoof beats, he gave no indication. He just kept pounding on the ground with the shovel. Eagle Shadow, however, became alarmed. He went to his horse and pulled the scalp from his thong. His demeanor was anxious and pleading. He held out the scalp as if it were a charm that would prevent the beating he feared. It did.
Tall Man didn't really care about the boy. He cared about his horse. His son, Thunder Eagle, had wanted the boy for a slave but he did not treat him as a slave. He treated him as a friend. Tall Man didn't understand that. One did not treat captives as friends. But he had loved his son and perhaps it was another of the ways of the whites he had learned from the soldiers the Colonel sent to teach the children. Since Eagle Shadow was his son's friend, Tall Man allowed the boy to stay after Thunder Eagle's death. The boy was fed and given a place to sleep but otherwise mostly ignored. It was rigid custom that one did not interfere with another's slave. Eagle Shadow was now no one's slave but he had belonged to the chief's son and the chief was ignoring him so everyone ignored him.
Thunder Eagle had learned many words of the white man. The white man's ways were the ways of the future. Tall Man knew that if his people were to survive; they must learn the ways of the white man. He had been proud of his only son. He would have made a great chief in this new world of the whites. Even before Thunder Eagle had learned the words of the white man, Tall Man knew that he would be great. The scream of the Eagle and the clap of thunder at the moment of the boy's birth was the omen. Thunder Eagle would have been a great chief but the Breed had found him alone and had killed him. He hadn't even taken his scalp, the deepest of insults. It said that the Breed did not think Thunder Eagle was a worthy enemy. The death of his son tore at Tall man but the insult enraged him.
Tall Man went straight to his horse. Eagle Shadow saw the anger in the tall Indian's eyes and held the scalp higher. Tall Man recognized the scalp. Only one man had the course hair of the Indian but the red color of the whites. The Breed was dead. Even after this death, the boy had been Thunder Eagle's shadow. Eagle Shadow had avenged his son. In that moment Eagle Shadow went from an annoying anomaly, to a great warrior in Tall Man's mind.
Tall Man jumped from his mount and grabbed the scalp from Eagle Shadow. He threw it on the ground and danced and stomped on it. He was joined by the three braves who had accompanied him. They danced and yelled and stomped until the scalp was in tatters.
They urinated on it. Finally one of the braves defecated on it. That was the ultimate contempt. Only then could Tall Man feel his son had been fully avenged. The Breed was not only dead but his scalp, that symbol that he had ever lived, had been desecrated and destroyed. Tall Man stood silent for a moment and then began the slow, mournful dance and wail of the dead.
Tall Man's death dance and mourning must have lasted for an hour. During all that time, Wili had not stopped hacking at the ground. He was oblivious of the drama around him. He hacked at the ground - he hacked and hacked and hacked.
Wili gave no indication that he realized that the shovel had been taken from him and he had been set on the horse behind Eagle Shadow. He seemed not to see the braves hitching up the Slatz's four horses each of which had been tethered to a separate wheel of the wagon. He seemed not to notice that his Papa and Wina had been wrapped in blankets taken from the wagon and had been placed inside the wagon. But, when the braves went to wrap Marvilla, Wili shrieked, jumped from the horse yelling, "NO! NO! NO! NEIN! NEIN! NEIN! NAO! NAO! NAO!" Fully aware of what he was doing or not, Wili covered every language he knew and made it quite clear that Marvilla's body was not to be put in the wagon. He pulled on Marvilla's leg, obviously trying to pull her toward the Breed. The Indians understood. They could see by this traumatized boy wrath and his actions that to him, this woman was as evil as the Breed.
When he was satisfied that Marvilla's body would be left with the Breed's, Wili walked back to Eagle Shadow's horse. Tall Man lifted him on. Wili wrapped his arms around Eagle Shadow and squeezed tight. He had never been on a horse before.
"You get your talk back yet?"
Wili did not respond. "You gonna talk soon anyway. Might as well start now."
Eagle Shadow was told in the language of the Arapaho to leave the boy alone. It had taken Eagle Shadow a week to talk when Thunder Eagle had first brought him to camp. "The boy's frightened. Leave him alone."
It took an hour for that strange, sad funeral procession to reach the village. Wagons were not unknown in the village but this was a train wagon. There was some fear among the old women that Tall Man had raided a train and that the soldiers would come. The old women remembered the fighting. Many had lost their braves when the soldiers came.
Curiosity pulled most of the villagers toward the wagon. Only a group of boys, about Wili's age were so engrossed in their game of Hoop and Lance that they did not come. The boys did not come but they were what Wili saw. He looked at Eagle Shadow and then at the boys. Eagle Shadow and the Breed were Indians but their skin was like Wili's. These boys had skin like Vaasco. Not exactly like Vaasco. They were a little darker. Wili looked at Tall Man and for the first time really saw. His skin was the same as the boys. At least what he could see was like the boys. Tall Man had buckskin breaches on. The braves had breech cloths. The boys had nothing on.
Wili looked at the boys but he did not see Indians. He saw happiness. He saw freedom. He saw his Portuguese friends in New Bedford. He saw himself. He saw them all running and laughing. And - then he saw his Mama chasing him. He saw a happy Wili with no Marvilla and he saw happy, carefree boys unfettered by clothing, trauma or abuse.
He still said nothing but he jumped from the horse. He pulled off his clothes - feeling as each item went as if he were slowly being freed from some awful bondage. When all his clothes were gone, he ran. He ran from his Mama's death. He ran from his Papa's death. He ran from Wina's death. He ran from Marvilla. He ran and he ran. Soon he was not running from things but to things. He ran to his toddler hood. He ran to his bathtub. He ran laughing to the happiness of having his Mama chasing him. He ran after Vaasco and Vaasco ran after him. He ran into the sea and splashed his Mama and Papa. He became aware that the boys were now running with him and he was back in New Bedford, running with his friends. He ran to something out there that he wanted. He didn't know what it was. It was different than anything he had known but it was good. Something was pulling him from an old world into a new one. Wili ran and he ran and he ran. He ran until he collapsed in exhaustion and then - he slept.