Nan Ryan (34 page)

Her face screwing up into a frown, Diane said, “What are you telling me, Golden Star? You can’t possibly mean that—”

“Starkeeper is white. As white as you. His blood mother and father were both white.” The black eyes twinkled at the confused Diane. “But,” Golden Star added, “he is
my
grandson. Has always been, will always be.” The smiling old woman then instructed, “Make yourself more comfortable, child. I’ll tell you all about Starkeeper.”

Diane sat flat down on the floor beside Golden Star’s bed, curling her legs to the side. There she stayed for the next half hour, listening intently, asking dozens of questions.

The Indian woman told her of Starkeeper’s true heritage. Told how Chief Red Fox had saved a white baby from the fire that killed his parents. The rescue had come shortly after Daughter-of-the-Stars had lost her newborn son. The chief brought the orphaned baby to his grieving young princess, and the tiny boy saved Daughter-of-the-Stars’ life. She took the child as her own son and loved him as much as if she had borne him.

Golden Star told Diane of the scar concealed by Starkeeper’s silver bracelet and of its meaning. Said Starkeeper had been raised as a Shoshoni, but now he lived as a white man. He was known in that other world as Ben Star. He was a wealthy, successful man who had amassed a fortune from prospecting.

“Starkeeper has many rich gold and silver mines in California and Nevada,” Golden Star said with pride. “He lives in a fine mansion in Nevada, and he owns a tall office building in San Francisco—it touches the sky.”

“Is he … married?” Diane asked. Golden Star shook her head no. Feeling a great sense of relief, Diane pressed on. “Was he? Has he ever been married?” Again the old woman shook her head. “Why?” Diane wanted to know. “There must surely have been women who—”

“Wanted to be his wife?” Golden Star finished her sentence. Nodding, she said, “I understand wealthy, handsome men are much prized in your world. The white world.”

Diane admitted it was true. “So why has Starkeeper never married?”

“Appe?” Golden Star said, and it was more a question than a statement. “Perhaps it was the work of Appe.” She smiled at Diane’s look of puzzlement. “Appe is the creator of the universe and all that is in it. Who knows? Maybe Appe created you for Starkeeper.” She smiled up at Diane and patted her hand. “I hope it is so. I would like to have a great-grandchild before I go on to the Great Mystery.” She yawned then and said, “A boy, I think. A sweet little boy like—like …” Her papery eyelids closed.

Golden Star was asleep.

Diane sat there for a minute longer, digesting all the old Shoshoni woman had told her. Then she silently rose to her feet She left Golden Star, went directly to Starkeeper’s lodge. She called his name loudly as soon as she reached his remote tipi. No answer. Determined to speak with him, she ducked inside, still calling his name. The lodge was silent and empty.

Disappointed, she stepped back outside and jumped, startled.

A mounted rider was there right before her. Waiting. The silvery-haired old Chief Washakie, astride a big paint pony, looked down at Diane and extended his hand.

“Come, Pale One. I will show you where he is.”

Diane didn’t question how the old chief had known she was looking for Starkeeper or how he knew where Starkeeper would be. She nodded, took the revered chieftain’s outstretched hand, and agilely swung up behind him.

Chief Washakie wheeled the big paint about and cantered out of camp. He immediately turned the mount up toward the jagged mountain peaks and began climbing to a higher elevation. In minutes they’d ascended well above the valley floor.

Over his shoulder Chief Washakie said, “There is a place in these mountains where Starkeeper goes when he is troubled. It is the home of Tamapah, the Sun Father. Starkeeper comes up here alone to communicate with lamapah.”

Her slender arms around the old chief’s thickened waist, Diane said, “Will he be angry with me for interrupting that communication? If he is troubled—”

“
You
are Starkeeper’s trouble.” The chief pulled up the snorting paint. He turned his silvery head and looked at her. “Time you two communicate.” He motioned for Diane to dismount. Nodding, she slid to the ground and looked quizzically up at him. He raised his arm and pointed the way out to her. Then silently he backed his big paint away and left her.

Diane stood there alone, high above the scattered Indian villages, the only sound that of the wind sighing through the pines. And the pounding of her heart. She hesitated, considered leaving without seeking out Starkeeper. Squared her slender shoulders and turned toward the vast, towering pillar of rock pointed out by the old chief.

Up and over a narrow, treacherous pathway she climbed into an eerily quiet and shadowy crevice. Breath labored, at last she rounded the massive fluted granite column and stopped short.

Twenty yards away Starkeeper was seated on a flat ridge of stone. The entire canyon was in deep shadow. But he was not. A shaft of bright sunshine poured down through a gap in the higher peaks above, bathing Starkeeper in brilliant white light.

A hand went to her tight throat. Diane was awed by the sight of the silent, unmoving man seated there on the rock, awash in white-hot sunshine when all else was in shadow. His dark, handsome face was turned up, his eyes staring unblinkingly into the sun.

Softly Diane spoke his name. Starkeeper seemed to come out of a trance. Slowly he turned his head and looked at her. He said nothing. She cautiously approached him, not quite sure what she was going to say.

After she’d ascended the stone steps to him and stood just above, she said from the covering shadows, “May I sit?”

“If you like,” was his cool reply. His hooded gaze swung away from her, returned to the sun.

Diane took a shallow breath, stepped from the deep, cool shade, and sat down in the harsh sunlight beside him. Blinking in the brightness, she said, “Look at me, Starkeeper.” He slowly exhaled, turned, and looked directly at her. His eyes held that now-familiar mixture of heat and cold. “I have finally learned,” she said softly, “who you are.”

“Have you?”

“Yes. You’re an impostor. You’re as white as I am.”

His stern lips lifted into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He placed his dark forearm next to her pale one, so close his sun-heated skin touched hers. “Not quite.”

“I’m not speaking of the color of your skin,” she said.

“Nor am I.” He moved his arm away. “Being Indian is not a matter of color. I’m more Indian than white, and I always will be.” His tone was dismissive.

“Oh, really? Then why, I wonder, don’t you live here with your—”

“And do what?” he interrupted. “Sit on the agency porch all day with the other idle men?” His eyes flashed.

“No, but—”

“Look around you. What was once our kingdom has become our cage,” he said sadly. He lifted a hand, swept it about in a wide, encompassing arc. “Not long ago this whole country—all America—belonged to the redman. There was room for all tribes and they were happy and they were free.” A muscle danced in his tanned jaw. “But then the white man came, drove them out, killed them, herded them onto reservations. Like this one.”

“I know all that, Starkeeper,” she said, tempted to point out that he selfishly left his sweet, aged grandmother here in the place he called a cage. Why didn’t he care enough about her welfare to allow her to live with him in his fine Nevada mansion? “I know.”

“Do you now? Do you know that all his life old Chief Washakie has befriended the white man? That he willingly allowed them to cross his sacred hunting grounds, indeed, helped guide them safely across it? Never raised a hand against them?”

“No. No, I didn’t know that.”

“It’s true. But guess what? It made no difference. He, like the others, was cornered into one little spot of the earth, cornered like a prisoner and watched by men with guns.”

“I’m sorry.” Diane said, and meant it. “I’m truly sorry. But, Starkeeper, I’m not the one responsible.”

“I know that,” he admitted. “What I’m telling you is I’m Indian. These people are my people. I’ve seen them suffer and lose the will to live, and it breaks my heart.” He shook his head sadly. “You and all your white friends believe that the Indian is by nature a stoic and impassive race. That’s not true. But after years of being endlessly ridiculed and tortured, many a happy-go-lucky Indian has become stoic and silently endures the white man’s humiliation.”

Diane said, “Like you when they cut off your braids at the university?”

He turned flashing black eyes on her. “No. Like me when you and your lover taunted and tormented me while I was chained in that damned animal cage.”

“I deserve that,” she said. “I was cruel and unkind, and I’m sorry.”

He laughed bitterly. “So
now
you’re sorry? Could it be because you’ve since found out I’m supposedly one of you?”

“No,” she said, “I’m sorry because I treated another human being so shabbily. I felt guilty about it when it happened, I still do. I’m asking you to forgive me.”

“You’re forgiven.” His tone was flippant. “Now your conscience is clear, so why don’t you run along and—”

“I want to stay here with you,” she said with frankness and honesty. “I want to stay here as long as you stay. And then, when you leave here, I want to go with you back to your lodge. I want to stay there with you. Never to leave unless you leave. I want to … love you, Starkeeper.”

“What for?” His dark eyes narrowed. “Where would the thrill be for you now? I’m white, remember?”

Diane’s slender shoulders sagged. “What happened between us meant a great deal more than a passing thrill. At least it did for me.”

“That a fact?”

“Yes. Yes, it is.” Her violet eyes held a soft, loving expression as she gazed at his dark, sullen face.

“Sure. It meant so much you couldn’t wait to run out on me afterward.” His face, lighted by the shaft of sunlight, was as hard as granite. “It’s all right. I understand. You were ashamed, and who can blame you? Who wouldn’t feel bad about making love to a filthy savage? An uncivilized beast?”

“That isn’t fair, Starkeeper.” She felt tears stinging the backs of her eyes. “I never—”

“Please, Beauty,” he interrupted. “Your memory can’t be so short that you’ve forgotten calling me savage and animal and Beast and—”

“But I was afraid of you! You’re the one with a short memory. Maybe you’ve forgotten you kidnapped me! My God, I was terrified. Hardly responsible for the foolish things I said. And yes, before you say it, let me assure you, if a ‘white man’ had kidnapped me, I would have been just as scared!”

His stern mouth softened slightly. “I doubt that. But it doesn’t matter.” He sighed heavily and added, “My behavior was inexcusable, and I’m sorry. I’d undo it all if I could.”

She reached out, touched his arm. “But you can’t. And I can’t.” She smiled hopefully at him. “So let’s go on from here.”

He didn’t return her smile. “Why did you come here? What is it you want from me, Beauty?”

“I don’t want anything from you, Starkeeper.” His dark eyes flickered as she spoke his name. “I want to give you something.”

“There’s nothing you can give me, Beauty.”

“Yes, I can. I can give you friendship and affection and respect and—and … love.”

She saw the fabric of his pale blue shirt pull across the flat muscles of his chest as he took a deep breath. Saw his beautiful eyes change expressions. Her simple declaration was having an effect, and Diane felt suddenly light-hearted and hopeful. If only he’d give her the opportunity, she’d show him that she cared for him as a human being, as a person, as a man.

Scarred by the past, distrustful, Starkeeper remained unconvinced, unreachable. Unwilling to risk being hurt, he said sarcastically, “Ah, Beauty, Beauty. I know you better than you know yourself.”

“You don’t know me at all,” was her firm reply.

“Yes, I do.” His tone was accusing. “I know you all too well, have known dozens just like you.”

“No, you haven’t, damn you!” Diane said, anger flaring. “There is no one else just like me!” She glared at him. “If you don’t believe me, give me a chance and I’ll prove it!”

He looked into her angry eyes and thought she was surety God’s most endearing creation. Had they met under different circumstances, there might be a chance for the two of them. But they hadn’t. And there wasn’t. And if she had temporarily forgotten about the big blond Cherokee Kid, he had not.

Starkeeper said, “I’ll see you back to Golden Star’s lodge now, before it grows dark.”

“No! I can find my way alone.” She shot to her feet.

He nodded and without looking at her said, “Tomorrow we leave Wind River.”

Diane’s heart sank. “Leave Wind River? But I thought you wanted to wait until … wait for—”

“Your lover to catch up with us? I did, but—”

“He is not my lover!”

Starkeeper shrugged wide shoulders and ignored her statement. “I’ve changed my mind about waiting. It’s time you were back safely with your family. There’s a morning train from Lander which makes connections in Salt Lake City for San Francisco. I’ll escort you as far as Virginia City.”

“To your Nevada home?”

“Yes, I’m going home. Now please leave me. Go back to the village before the sun sets.”

“What—what time tomorrow?”

“We’ll leave Wind River shortly after sunup. Be ready.”

No longer trusting her voice, Diane nodded. But Starkeeper was again looking into the lowering orange sun.

She had promised herself that she wouldn’t cry.

But now, as she stood outside Golden Star’s lodge and watched—for the last time—the sun rise over Wind River, Diane felt that familiar lump rise to her throat and her eyes burn.

Golden Star stepped out of the tipi, came to Diane, and wrapped both arthritic hands around Diane’s slender arm. Diane looked at her, swallowed hard, and tried to smile.

The old Shoshoni woman fondly pressed her gray head to Diane’s shoulder and said softly, “Do not give up so easily, child. The ride to Virginia City is a long one. Who knows what will happen? You are a persuasive young woman.”

Diane patted the gnarled hands that were clamped around her arm but said nothing.