To Tame A Savage by Georgina Gentry

To Tame A Savage by Georgina Gentry

Author:Georgina Gentry [Gentry, Georgina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Inheritance and succession, Indians of North America, General, Romance, Boston (Mass.), Historical, Governesses, Large type books, Mixed descent, Fiction
ISBN: 9781587243530
Publisher: Wheeler Pub.
Published: 2002-12-15T00:00:00+00:00


Part Two

* * *

Colt’s Story

Fourteen

* * *

Wounded Knee Creek, South Dakota

December, 1890

Cincala was not certain how the massacre started. First there had been the Ghost Dancing that had been on for months, trying to drive the white man from the Sioux lands. The whites seemed to sense the power of the dance and had brought in more troops to these desolate plains, but that had only intensified the peoples’ dedication to the mystic ritual that had spread from one tribe to the next after the Paiute holy man, Wevoka, had begun it.

The Indian agent was nervous about the Ghost Dance that he suspected would end in a bloody uprising as tribe after tribe began the ritual that they believed would drive the white men from the face of the earth and bring back the buffalo and the Indians to power. Two weeks ago, the Indian police had been sent to arrest Sitting Bull and had killed him instead. Now there were no great leaders left among the Sioux. The mystic Crazy Horse had been dead fourteen winter counts now. These two renowned warriors had led the Sioux in the hour of their greatest triumph at the Greasy Grass battle against the hated Custer. The air was tense as the Indian agent called for more troops and the Seventh Cavalry arrived on the scene. All awaited the one small spark that might explode into another confrontation.

Cincala was now a man, more than twenty-one winter counts old, tall and strong and lighter-skinned than most of the other Lakota. He knew that somewhere in his past, his father, White Wolf, had been a soldier white man, but more than that he did not know because the subject was forbidden.

A month ago, his father, worried about the tension on the Sioux reservation, had taken the fine ring that had a stone the color of the sky, and hung it on a thong around Cincala’s neck. “There may be trouble with the whites,” White Wolf had said, “and this might save your life.”

Outside their warm tipi, the cold wind howled. Cincala had looked at the ring, turning it over and over in his brown hand, then back to his father. White Wolf’s skin was almost as brown and weathered as any Lakota warrior, but his long hair was brown, though turning to gray. His eyes were almost golden, not like Wiwila’s, which were gray. Cincala, when he looked at his reflection in a stream, knew he favored them both. “My father, how might this save my life? I will use the bow, the rifle — “

“There may come a time that will not be enough.” White Wolf shook his head and looked with loving eyes toward his woman. “The bluecoats are nervous about the Ghost Dancing.”

“As well they should be,” Cincala boasted. “It will soon wipe them from the face of the earth.”

White Wolf’s handsome, weathered face saddened. “Listen, my son, the whites will not be driven out. Every day they grow like grains of sand.



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