© 1997 by Kathy. May not be reproduced without permission
Stopping about halfway down the hill, Running Buck took at drink from his water bottle and looked again at the collection of adobe buildings. He'd watched from the hill for three days, after meeting up with a friendly Lakota who told him about the white women who wore strange black and white clothes and cared for orphaned children. Everything the Lakota had told him seemed to be true. There were many white children running around, of all ages and with varied features that proclaimed them to be from different parents. There were only two men at the 'mission', a huge yellow-haired man and another, older man who wore a kind of dress made of coarse brown cloth. Both men seemed to be kind to the children, yet seemed to live apart from the women. This was strange, but the, these were whites, and many things were bound to be odd.
According to the Lakota, this was as good a place as any to begin his life in the white world. His hunting skills would come in useful, and the women-who-wore-strange-clothes would probably welcome him because of his white blood. Running Buck steeled himself and urged his mount onwards again. He had delayed the inevitable long enough.
The knock on the door was timid, almost as if the knocker were afraid to disturb the occupant of the room. Given the imperiousness of the response, that wasn't surprising.
"Come."
"Mother Superior?"
"Yes, Kathleen? What is it?" The Mother Superior was well-known for being impatient with cowards, or any sign of timid attitudes in her charges.
"Mother Superior, there's... well, there's an Indian outside."
"An Indian? Only one? What kind of Indian? Well, answer, child!"
"Er, yes Mother. Well, Mother, there is only one. He's kind of scrawny - a boy." Kathleen's confusion expressed itself in her answers. As long as she could remember, the orphans had been taught that Indians could attack at any time, although in recent years the Osage had been peaceful. Nevertheless, Kathleen was convinced that no good could come from the Indian boy's appearance outside the orphanage.
"A boy, you said. What does he want?"
"Yes, Mother. He said he wants to talk to the person in charge."
"He speaks English?"
"Yes, Mother. Very well."
"Hmmm." There was a pause as Mother Superior Mary Assumpta of the Little Sisters of the Cross considered her next move. It was unlikely that the boy was the harbinger of war; no, the chiefs would have come with the boy if that were the case. There really was only one course of action open. "Send Svenson to me, make sure he brings his gun, then go to the Indian and bring him to me. Just make certain that Svenson is here first."
"Yes Mother." Kathleen curtseyed and hurried to get Svenson. The elderly Swedish gardener was a great help around the orphanage and could still fire a gun quite well if necessary. Kathleen approved of Mother's choice.
When the door opened to admit the Indian the Mother Superior was ready. A formidable woman at any time, she could instill terror into the most recalcitrant of childish hearts should the need arise. Besides, Svenson could handle just about anybody if the need arose, though he'd be filled with remorse for weeks afterward. He was so gentle-natured the orphanage was the safest place for him. He kept getting drawn into fights he hated if he went into town, simply because of his size.
She looked closely at the Indian before her. He had used the time spent waiting in cleaning himself up a little, although the trail dirt still clung to his buckskins, as did the smell of sweat. No matter, that was only to be expected from any traveller in the area. She looked closer.
He was, indeed, only a boy - probably about 13? 14? He held his head high, with no sign of fear in his obsidian eyes. There was intelligence behind those eyes, courage too. It would take courage for a boy like this to enter her sanctum. Well-grown, he was neither particularly tall nor short, of fine build and he moved with a grace she found herself envying slightly. Making a mental note to make penance later on for the sin of envy, she examined his face further. His mouth was wide, thin-lipped, with a strong masculine gentleness. Intelligence, strength, gentleness...this boy could become quite a man, given the proper training. She could and did ignore the long hair, bone earring, medicine pouch and now-grubby buckskins. Clothes may make the man, but they were easily changed. It was far harder to change a heart.
"My name is Mother Superior Mary Assumpta. I am Mother Superior of this orphanage. Why are you here?" Determined to stay in control of this meeting, she kept her voice neutral.
"My name is Running Buck. I wish to stay here and learn."
"Learn what?"
"The ways of my father."
"I don't understand. Your father was a Catholic?"
For the first time Running Buck hesitated. The circumstances of his birth were a source of shame to him in the Kiowa village, and he expected the same here. Still, he had the feeling that this woman would expect, no, demand, only the full truth. "I don't know what that means. My father was white. He took my mother when she was gathering berries for food. By the time she was able to tell someone, he was gone. I don't know who he was, but I need to know his ways." Running Buck's accent was negligible, with only an occasional pause as he sought for an English word.
"I see." The Mother Superior loathed sin in any form, but was a woman who knew that all of us sin, and a child conceived in such a manner was innocent of any wrongdoing. She lived a retired life, but was neither naïve nor stupid. But there was another question she had to ask. "Why do you come here? And why now?
"I saw this was a place for children to learn." Running Buck's answer was calm, direct.
"Why come here now?"
"I don't understand."
"Why didn't you come last year? Before the snows came? You could have had food, warmth during the winter. Why come here now?"
"My mother was alive then. Now she is dead." His patience ran out. "Will you take me or not? I can hunt, provide food. I will not eat more than I need."
Mother Superior thought quickly. When she first came to the West, she longed to take God's Word to the Indians, but the way had never been open for her to do so. Instead she found herself teaching orphans who had lost their parents on the Oregon and California trails. While not dissatisfied, perhaps this was a way of God opening doors for her. She sighed. Even if that wasn't the case, this boy wanted to learn, which was more than could be said of Billy McCleary or some of the other rascals she couldn't help loving. "All right, you can stay. But there are conditions."
"Condi-tions?" The word was obviously a new one.
"Yes, conditions. That means, rules. Do you understand?"
"Yes, I know rules. What are the conditions?"
"While you are here, you will act and dress as all the other boys do. You will eat our food and work as hard as any other boy. In return, we will feed you, clothe you and school you. You will behave as a white boy is expected to behave. Is that clear?"
"Yes. That is what I want." Running Buck's heart was singing. He had no illusions, to be accepted in the white world he would have to act 'whiter than white;' to be better than the whites at things in the same way he had had to be better than the Kiowa boys in the village to gain any acceptance. He had always known how to try harder than anyone else, and expected nothing else.
"There is one other thing. This is a house of God, and you will be expected to learn about and pray to our God. You will not wear that thing around your neck while you are here."
That he hadn't expected. Little Bird had told him that the whites only worshipped one god, but he hadn't really taken much notice other than to think it odd. Still, he had come here to learn, and nobody could force him to not pray to the Spirits, could they? "I will do as you say."
"You will address me as 'Mother Superior.'"
"Yes."
"Yes, Mother Superior."
"Yes, Mother Superior." The rules were starting already. The sooner the better, I have a lot to catch up on, he thought.
"Good." Mary Assumpta moved to the door. "Svenson?" walked into the the room, she "Runnng Buck, this is Svenson. Svenson, find Running Buck some clothes, and show him to his bed and where to wash. He may sleep with Billy McCleary and Johnathon Baker. Thank you Svenson." They were dismissed.
As he showed Running Buck out the door, Svenson smiled. "Velcome, Running Buck. Please come vit me."
Showing no sign of the trepidation he felt inside, Running Buck did so. It was the first step in finding out whether he could live in the white world.
