Warpath: A WangXian Reincarnation Story

The Old Man's Tale Ends

There was a single and very loud knock on the cabin door.

Soaring Hawk smiled at the sound.

"My brother. Remember, he is not an easy man to get to know. He does not trust many."

He rose and opened the door. In the doorway stood a magnificent man, his brother's equal in almost every way. A thick, pale-azure, flannel shirt covered his strong torso and a blue beaded headband with a white cloud motif adorned a creaseless forehead. There was not an ounce of silver in the blue-black hair. His eyes were the only thing that kept him from being as attractive as his brother. They were light golden and as cold as ice. He stepped in and the young man rose and bowed. It was an automatic gesture, one he felt compelled to make. He felt suddenly unnerved, disturbed in a very fundamental way as the newcomer, the great Cloud Chief stared down at him, ignoring his extended hand.

"Perhaps later." The deep baritone voice was even but final. This was a man who was not easily impressed yet Soaring Hawk tilted his head. There was a note of curiosity and even a hint of warmth that only he could pick up on. This could be interesting.

"My brother is a good man. He trusts too easily though. I do not have that problem. Why should I trust you.?" Blunt. Solid. Impenetrable.

"Chief Cloud... if I may call you that?"

There was a slight nod.

"Everything given, you should not. There is no real reason, beyond my given word, that you should."

There was a glint of approval in the frigid eyes. "Mn."

"If I came to you and said, 'I am truthful and honest and only want to help, you would not believe me, even though that is true. In all honesty, I am also seeking a good story that people will read. And a story, telling the truth of Little Big Horn, told by the only surviving combatants from that place, will be unique. It would sell. I could make a name for myself. I am altruistic in many ways. But I must also make a living."

Soaring Hawk smothered a smile. His brother shot a side glance his way.

"How does that benefit us?"

"In one way only, perhaps. Your history is oral. White people believe that oral history has no value. Only written. The more oral history gathered and printed, given by those who lived it, the more credence it is given. I want to gather all the stories I can, from as many indigenous people as I can, for a journalistic history that encourages respect and acceptance."

"You know it will be discounted by your government. They will attack you. You may be vilified."

"I know and so be it. I believe that, in the long run, if they are discounted, many generations after me, they will be respected. At least your truth will be out there."

"Then, Soaring Hawk may continue."

To everyone's surprise, Chief Cloud reached into his pouch and removed a twist of tobacco. He handed it silently to his brother and waited as Soaring Hawk filled the bowl. After it was lit and the tobacco's scent began to fill the room, Soaring Hawk spoke again..

"Your name and education?"

"Charles Curtis, Sir. I am a recent graduate from the University of Virginia where I majored in English Studies with an emphasis in Journalism."

Chief Cloud nodded to his brother to begin again

"As I was saying, soon after Cloud Chief and Rabbit took their places on the hill opposite Custer..."

There was a sharp cough from Cloud Chief who shot his brother another side glance, one of stern warning not to go there. Soaring Hawk nodded solemnly but winked merrily at the journalist.

"The fight began quickly. Posturing began when Chief Crazy Horse began a run directly in front of the enemy, calling them out from the back of his horse. Bullets flew from the troops, but he was never touched. He crossed several times and a soldier, tall and muscular, responded in kind riding a spotted horse back and forth, calling to his men, exhorting the to be fearless. Not an arrow grazed him on his runs as well. We found out later that he was Tom Custer, the brother of Yellow Hair. He was a very brave man. Extraordinarily fierce.

At a signal, our forces swarmed. The enemy stood little chance against such numbers. They fought bravely. They had to for they knew there would be no quarter and no response came from Reno or Benteen's companies to pleas for reinforcements. They had their own battles to fight. Custer's men knew quickly that they would die but they decided to fight until the end. All died bravely as they were overcome.

The men covered the area, and women warriors reached the top of the hill, led by Buffalo Cow Woman. She saw her brother knocked to the ground and rode to his aide. She was the first to strike out and wound Yellow Hair. No one knows who actually killed him and if we did, we would never verify it in our lifetime, but she returned carrying his sword, so she may have been the one to deliver the final blow. The sight of the women fighting as fiercely as the men must have been demoralizing. But our women had their coup to count. After all, they and our children have always reaped the pitiless side of the enemy in most massacres. Raped and tortured and slaughtered as animals. They were as cold and unforgiving as we men.

After the final bullet sounded and the last arrow was shot, a deadly quiet surrounded the Greasy Grass, and then howls of triumph began to fill the air. Our enemy had come to wipe us from our land, and we had destroyed them. Screams of triumph, rejoicing and lamenting filled the air. 24 of the Sioux had died and 7 Cheyenne. 210 soldiers, 7 Crow and Arakawa scouts, littered the hill. Reno and Benteen together lost 47 men.

It was a glorious and sad day. Warriors on both sides died bravely. And Cloud Chief did as he was commanded. He led our people here."

Silence filled the cabin. The brothers looked warmly at one another. The journalist laid down his pencil and nothing needed to be said. The pipe was passed once more. Finally, Curtis rose and bowed to both. He loathed to leave but did not wish to intrude further.

"I thank you both. This meeting is something I will carry in my heart forever. I am honored that you trusted me enough to share your truth with me. I will treat it with nothing but respect."

He shook hands, first with Soaring Eagle then with Cloud Chief. To his surprise, the golden eyes had thawed, and his hand was warmly clasped by both of Chief Cloud's larger and stronger ones. As he turned to leave a couple of short raps sounded on the door and a smaller man, wearing a beautiful buckskin dress waltzed in. Lovely and delicate he turned breathtaking silver eyes on the young man before him. The gaze was magnetic and felt warm and familiar. He saw a glimpse of surprise in them.

Cloud Chief said, "May I introduce my wife, Rabbit Who Plays Flute?"

Rabbit smiled and greeted Curtis. "Hello! I hope these two did not bore you to tears! Can you stay for dinner?

"No. I am afraid not."

"Please tell me you are staying at the boarding House in town and that you can visit us again?"

They glanced uneasily at Chief Cloud who merely nodded his assent.

Rabbit slipped his arm through the journalist's and slowly walked him to the waiting wagon. "Good! Then we will expect you back tomorrow, when we can properly entertain you. I will prepare some lovely meals and we will all chat some more. There is more to us than the Battle of Greasy Grass, you know!"

The three returned inside and sat together. They looked at one another and Soaring Hawk broke the silence.

"Am I mistaken? Is that young man...?"

"Kirin? Yes, it is him," said Lan Zhan.

"My little Kirin. He showed up as handsome as ever, did he not," whispered a stunned Wei Ying.

"And as kind," agreed Lan Zhan quietly.

"Tomorrow will be a good day," stated Lan XiChen happily. "A very good day, indeed."