Son of Two Bears

By Charles F Kwick

Michael Brighton, is the son of an English aristocratic family, Lord Brighton is suddenly enveloped in a family controversy. In an effort to insulate Mike from the family argument, his father self-exile's himself and Mike to the frontier of America. While growing up at the Brighton family estate, Michael's oriental instructor, Mikasa, sought per

• Language: English
• Publisher: Charles F. Kwick
• Release date: Jun 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9781734712650

Book preview

Son of Two Bears

April 30, 1856.

The prairie of South Dakota, Chief Lone Buffalo’s Lakota encampment. The end of the moon when the geese return in scattered formations.

Mourning Dove, twelve-year-old adopted daughter of Chief Lone Buffalo, watched the sun rise from a hill just outside the encampment. She prayed to the Sioux god Wakan, the morning lone prayer vigil was a habit borne after the deaths of her mother and father. On her return to the village she considered her dream, a vision of the tall black stallion with proudly arched neck. Never before had she seen such a horse. She considered the dream a visit from the Great Spirit, Wakan Takan, she felt in time the dream’s meaning would be made known to her. Knowing that the dream or its meaning may not occur if she shared the details, she kept the dream a secret from the medicine man who she spoke with often.

Many Visions, the village medicine man watched the chief’s daughter. Whenever Many Visons finished talking to Mourning Dove, he considered she had a greater grasp on foretelling the future than he. Many times, the medicine man took Mourning Dove’s advice when he had to make decisions about leading the band. Many Visions, a man with noted prescience was in awe of Mourning Dove’s ability to see the future.

Many Visions watched as Mourning Dove gave direction to Walks Alone, the village Winktie Mourning Dove had contacted to spend the coming night with the chief’s wife who was soon to give birth. Many Visions smiled, he wondered if the Chief’s wife or Mourning Dove herself determined that this was the night the birth would occur.

The Winktie was a skilled midwife who would assist in the birthing. The village Winkties lived on the outer circle of the encampment, they were women that preferred to live alone or with other women or who did not marry. The Winkties had many skills, some of them were warriors, they were respected by the village. After Mourning Dove spoke to the Winktie and took her to the Chief’s teepee, the medicine man then noted Morning Dove was asked by a young newly married woman to show her how to do something with moccasins. Many Visons smiled and considered, the very talented Mourning Dove would have many suitors when she grew to womanhood.

May 1, 1856. At the Brighton family estate, outside London.

On the bank of a small lake inside the thick parapet surrounding a portion of the Brighton estate, twelve-year-old Michael Brighton was about to enter the water. Mike hesitated, deep in thought he stood staring at the paddock with the tall black Arab crossed horses of his father. He continued to stare, his mind was elsewhere. Mike had many questions and Mikasa, his oriental teacher, seemed more and more stoic and tight-lipped. Mikasa was unwilling to talk, even evasive, far out of character from his usual openness. Mike probed, Mikasa. Where did father go this morning so early?

The oriental was slow to answer, he was cautious; again this was not typical of Mikasa. Everything in Mike’s life was suddenly different, even the way his mentor answered a simple forthright question. Abrupt, Mikasa answered, Your father’s presence was requested in Parliament.

The boy waited, he had many questions and now his instructor, who seldom measured his response to any question, was slow to respond; for Mike this created more questions. Mike wanted more information, the oriental teacher was rushing him, Mikasa clearly did not want to allow Mike time to question. The past couple of days Mike found most of his questions required information in which Mikasa sidestepped. Now Mikasa sharply ordered, Today you will swim for distance. You must get started, I have a meeting within the hour.

Still Mike stood, Mikasa. Our life within these walls surrounding Brighton is beautiful, protected, we have everything. Why is this happening? Our lives will be turned upside down. It seems there is little trust. Little openness.

Mikasa considered a moment, then the consummate teacher decided to deliver another lesson, Yes. Your life will change. You ask, why does change come to one whose life seems in order? Some believe the force of change is due to destiny.

Mike wanted a clear answer, not a lesson in philosophy. Still, he politely asked, What is destiny?

The oriental wasn’t much taller than the twelve-year-old, when he moved, he seemed not to touch the ground he moved so lightly. Mikasa shrugged, Destiny is what will happen in your life, some think a power is in control of our lives that foretells our pathway.

What kind of power?

Mikasa shrugged, Some think the power to order a life, one’s destiny, comes from the stars. Some believe from their god.

Mike was getting answers but in a confusing, roundabout and seemingly evasive way. He couldn’t understand the evading, You are thinking of my father’s destiny or my own?

It is of little matter. You are son and father. Whatever one’s destiny, the other will be affected.

If this destiny is ordering my life, why wouldn’t I just go back to the library and read a good book, why not just sit and wait for my destiny?

Mikasa knew the question was asked out of frustration, The skills you have been given will always need to be practiced. Whether you believe in destiny or not, take each day as it comes and live the day to the fullest so you will miss no opportunity to fulfill your destiny. That is if the stars or your god have given you a destiny. You cannot sit and wait; your skills will fade; you will be less able. Living each day to the fullest and always doing your best is a good rule to follow no matter what you believe. No matter where you are in this world.

Mike thought about his father, If destiny was responsible for changing my father’s life, my life will change. Will others we come in contact with, be changed also?

Mikasa again nodded, Yes, others will be effected. Perhaps that is the will of the one who orders our destiny. Perhaps our destiny is to make a change in someone else’s life.

The boy continued to look to his teacher, the teacher felt the questioning eyes upon him. Mikasa knew he would have no answer that would satisfy the boy and he was unwilling to answer any of the boy’s questions concerning his father. Mikasa snapped, No more questions. Get in the water or you will clean stables until dark.

There seemed to be no reaction on the boy’s face as he slid into the cold water, within seconds his practiced arms pulled him swiftly across the small lake. The twelve-year-old didn’t care a whit about cleaning the stables, he was interested in the mystery surrounding him and his father. And now, even his teacher was guilty of hiding something from him. As he expertly knifed through the water, Mike wondered if he had a destiny, if other lives would be affected, he wondered if the gods or the stars even knew he existed.

Out of the boy’s hearing the oriental spoke aloud perhaps trying to rectify his stance if only to himself, In many things I can teach you. But you should know when it comes to your family, your father is without equal. It is a lesson I have neglected to give you. Now, in the game being played, I cannot tell you how I feel.

Lord Quincy led the aide down a dimly lit corridor outside where Parliament was still in session. Lord Quincy was attired in his robe and white wig. He took the aide by the arm and quickly led him to a window overlooking the street. He ordered, You will tell Queen Victoria our decision is to wait rather than take the chance of unjustly stripping Lord Walter Brighton of his title. The Queen knows we have been presented with much circumstantial evidence, evidence sufficient in scope to do as we may with Lord Brighton. However, his family is very rich and very powerful, his father’s decision alone will more than likely ruin Lord Brighton in England.

Lord Quincy looked out the window, But, assure the Queen, based on the circumstantial evidence, Parliament cannot in good faith take away his title. Our decision is based on the lack of testimony with first-hand knowledge of Lord Brighton being a party to the crime. We would dearly love to talk to someone, anyone with the same level of integrity…, someone we can cross-examine. Anyone other than he… We also arrived at this decision mainly because of the unblemished service Lord Brighton has rendered the country. Also, because, his holdings make the total of the stolen goods found in his warehouses paltry. It really doesn’t make any good sense to call a man a thief without absolute proof of some small level of complicity.

Lord Quincy again shook his head in consternation, Insure the Queen a written explanation will be forthcoming.

The aide nodded, then asked, Because his family is so rich, his involvement is unlikely, and there is no absolute evidence beyond circumstantial connecting Lord Brighton to the stolen goods?

Lord Quincy nodded agreement and watched below as Lord Walter Brighton rode down the street on the tall black stallion with the arched neck of an Arab. Seemingly distracted, Lord Quincy said, Look at the man. He was just accused of being a thief by Parliament, yet he sits in the saddle like the soldier he was, proud, with dignity. Does he look like a common thief to you?

The aide looked out the window, shrugged and replied, Pardon sir, but his warehouse had an entire manifest from a looted ship, said to be worth a fortune. Hardly a common thief could have stolen it all. Word was; every man jack on the ship was under the direct orders of the captain. The captain said he was following orders; Lord Walter Brighton’s orders.

Lord Quincy did not turn from the window, In front of Parliament, Lord Brighton told us of the stolen goods being in his warehouse. He spoke of the captain that accused him as a friend, he could not be forced to speak ill of the man. If the captain could be found, we would be able to prosecute with testimonial evidence, not hearsay.

The aide was not convinced, Sir. The entire crew testified they were working under the direct orders of the captain. The captain is said to be in hiding, fearing for his life at the hands of Lord Brighton.

Lord Quincy turned but a moment from the window, Yes. And Lord Brighton would not testify one word against his ship’s captain in his own defense, as a matter of fact he upheld the integrity of the captain.

Lord Quincy shrugged the weight off his shoulders, Give the information to the Queen as I have related to you. She has followed Lord Brighton’s career. She is expecting word.

The aide took one more look out the window and smiled at Lord Quincy, Wouldn’t mind having a horse like that long legged black. He’s worth about five or ten years pay.

Lord Quincy took another look at the stallion and nodded agreement, He’s bred a horse with legs to run. I’ve heard rumors he was taking his son and leaving for America. I’m sure he’ll take some of his horses with him.

Lord Quincy grinned, I wouldn’t mind having a horse like that myself.

The stallion’s long legs and powerful gait easily covered the ten miles between London and the Brighton estates. Though the London meeting may eventually mean the loss of his title, the weight of the shadow over his character didn’t show in his carriage. As he neared Brighton the cloud seemed to clear but he knew the meeting with his father would perhaps be more painful than his testimony at Parliament.

Lord Walter Brighton stopped on the crest of a hill overlooking the Brighton Estate. He considered this may be the last time he would ever see his family home, regardless of the outcome of the family meeting, he made arrangements to leave the very next day. Lord Brighton didn’t want his son brought up under the cloud somehow built about him.

The rampart with parapet protecting the three Brighton mansions stood over twelve feet tall and surrounded the estate, over a mile of seemingly impenetrable wall. He mused to himself, Impenetrable from the outside, I think our weakness came from the inside.

Although extensive, every foot of the grounds was well groomed, every foot well known to Lord Walter Brighton. From nearly a half-mile away the grounds looked like a castle, Lord Brighton sat for a moment and looked at the homes of his father, his twin brother and that of his own.

He leaned a little forward in the saddle, and spoke gently to the tall black, Let’s go Nite, I have a meeting with Father in a short time. I don’t want to prolong the agony.

The stallion felt the weight shift forward in the saddle, he moved to a trot, feeling another subtle weight shift forward, Nite broke into a ground-eating canter. The stallion’s long legs covered the remaining distance adjacent to fields of crops, in a short time as they entered the gate the guard nodded recognition. Lord Brighton took the bricked cart-path to the right leading to his father’s home. The prancing stallion’s shod hooves sang out a rhythmic beat announcing his arrival.

Upstairs in a window of his twin brother’s mansion, Weston waved a greeting and motioned support with a thumb up, wishing him well at the meeting. Walter gazed to his left, in the yard next to the stables his son was practicing with longbow. Lord Brighton smiled, thinking the longbow was not one of his son’s favored subjects. He noted Mikasa was not with his son, no doubt the Oriental was already at the meeting. Mikasa was always on time, or early.

Lord Brighton looked beyond the stables at the exercise track and at pastures with small groups of horses like the tall black he was riding, dark horses with long legs, sleek bodies, with the proud head of the Arab coupled with long legs for running. He would take three mares and the stallion he was riding with him.

Lord Brighton looked again to his son and briefly considered how Mike would do in the strange land. He smiled as he proudly suspected his twelve-year-old would thrive in any surrounding.

The meeting completed, an hour later the twin brothers gazed out the window to the compound below. Both stood in silence, both had hands behind their backs, from behind one could not tell them apart. Weston broke the silence, trying to lighten the darkness he sensed in his brother, Walter, you can leave Mike here with me at Brighton you know.

Lord Walter Brighton grinned and chuckled, Do you really think I could talk my son into staying here while I place myself in exile?

Weston Brighton shook his head, I wish you could, but I think I would have to lock him in the tower to keep him from running away to catch a ship so he could join you in the Colonies.

Lord Brighton watched as his twelve-year old son Mike received lessons with Mikasa, his instructor. He watched as Mike rolled on his shoulder, quickly rose to a knee and threw a knife into a target, fifteen feet away. While still kneeling he quickly sent three more knives, all were buried in the same target. Lord Walter Brighton was proud of his son’s skills and the intensity of Mike’s approach to his lessons.

Lord Brighton continued to watch Mike practice with throwing knives, he smiled as he answered his brother, Weston. Would you quit referring to them as the Colonies? They have been an independent country for nearly one hundred years.

Weston grinned, he enjoyed bantering about America, Savages all about. I hope you are taking your weaponry.

Walter merely smiled and continued to watch his son. Weston had his eyes on his nephew also, since he couldn’t raise a debate on America, he changed to a subject to both of their liking, Mike is a highly skilled lad.

Lord Brighton nodded agreement, Mikasa has worked wonders. Mikasa is a natural teacher.

Weston added, Ever since you saved that Oriental’s life, he’s been very loyal to you. I watched as Mikasa left the meeting with father early, is Mikasa going with you to the Colonies?

Lord Brighton shook his head slowly in painful thought, In the meeting with father, Mikasa indicated he would stay here at Brighton. He indicated perhaps in the employ of father. I’m surprised Mikasa didn’t change his mind when father told him he would be at the service of our brother Rupert also.

Weston was astonished, He’s willingly lined up with Rupert?

Yes. He just bowed slightly in answer. He bowed to me and left the room. I was surprised.

I am more than surprised, shocked.

Lord Brighton shrugged, You have to admit the evidence against me is very strong.

Weston spoke angrily, Mikasa should have seen through all that. And, I don’t care if the Pope himself was eye witness; I figure you were somehow framed by your brother Rupert.

Lord Walter Brighton grinned, I can’t bring myself to blame Mikasa, and remember, Rupert’s your brother too.

Half-brother. Don’t remind me. To me he’ll always be a scoundrel. I don’t have a doubt he’s somehow behind this entire business.

Lord Walter Brighton grinned and said, Don’t let father hear you say that, he’ll cut you out of his will. To father, we have always been against Rupert, ever since childhood. Even now it seems whenever one of our ventures is successful, one of Rupert’s investments takes a loss and father steps in to pick up the pieces. Rupert’s losses seem to bring them closer together. Given the evidence against me, father is closer to Rupert than ever.

Weston shook his head, What did you tell father?

Lord Walter Brighton laughed, Father presented the evidence again. He said I should admit it and get on with life. I told him I would like my captain standing before me to give testimony. I told Father I said the same thing before Parliament. Father blew up. To Father, that was akin to saying Rupert is a liar. I told father I was sorry for the way he felt, but I have Mike to think of. I don’t want to bring him up in a cloud of guilt and uncertainty. I then told father I’m leaving tomorrow for America. Father was still shouting when I left the room. I’m sure Rupert is very happy.

Weston Brighton laughed knowing his own estate was extensive; neither of them need worry about inheriting family money, I understand how father feels about Rupert. At the rate Rupert spends money he’ll have to inherit all of father’s holdings if that is in his mind. But brother mine, your life has been exemplary, father should know you couldn’t be guilty of common thievery.

Lord Walter Brighton smiled and replied, Nearly fifty thousand pounds worth of contraband found hidden in my warehouses isn’t exactly common thievery. For father, the fact that Rupert’s the one that stood to lose money by being party to insuring the missing manifests. The evidence makes it appear that I was trying to break Rupert.

Weston shook his head, Why in the world did you do business with Rupert?

Lord Brighton shrugged, I figured to give Rupert some business. Instead the insured items get stolen, the manifests end up in my warehouse, and to father it looks like I’m trying to break Rupert’s bank.

Weston shook his head in frustration, If I recall, Rupert is the one that asked to insure your manifest.

Lord Brighton smiled, I mentioned that, and father exploded again. I couldn’t win. The evidence was pretty telling. My ship’s captain wrote a letter of explanation for the goods, the shipmates all said they were doing as they were told. I wish I could talk to the captain.

Weston Brighton looked out over the Brighton estates, three large mansions surrounded by a twelve-foot high rampart topped with a seven-foot parapet, several outbuildings including a large stable with a well-groomed exercise yard and running track. Beyond the stable was a small lake, several fields with many small groups of well-bred horses in pastures. Everything within sight spoke of wealth, We need not be concerned with father’s will; neither of us need ever worry for money. Another reason this accusation of theft is ridiculous.

Weston shook off his feelings of frustration for a moment, Considering your wealth, why did you choose the Colonies? You can live wherever you desire. The Mediterranean would be nice.

Lord Brighton nodded, I considered the coast of France, but I’ll tell you this. Somehow, I feel drawn to America, I can’t even tell you of any specific reason.

Lord Brighton shrugged off the mystery of his decision and continued, Mike and I will stay there until this scandal has worked itself out. Through all this my only concern is for Mike. In comparison to being at Brighton, in America he’ll have to do without many conveniences.

Weston laughed, Never have a worry about your son, he has unbounded strength of character and a wide variety of skills. In that barbaric new land, he’ll carry his portion of the burden.

Lord Brighton’s face became sad for a moment, I believe father will miss Mike. His only grandson! Of course, the stubborn old fool didn’t say anything. He’s really disturbed by this entire matter. For the most part he seems to see me as the sole reason for everything that has happened now and in the past.

Weston smiled slightly, Don’t fret about father, he could pull a few strings and bury this entire matter.

Father’s already pulled as many strings as he can and maintain his dignity. Whatever the outcome, he is resolved the matter will sort itself out. In the meantime, he’s giving Brother Rupert the benefit of the doubt.

Brother Walter, the solution seems to be at your expense.

Lord Walter Brighton again smiled, "This entire affair has taken a toll on all of us. I know all eyes are on me, I know father thinks I am running away from what seems obvious guilt. That all matters little to me. I believe in time, I’ll be exonerated.

Meanwhile I don’t want Mike to be embroiled in the family fighting. In America we will just be a couple of farmers eking out a living on the eastern shore of the Mississippi. It won’t be long and the boy will be grown up and off on his own, I just want him to grow up without a cloud over his head."

Well Walter, the cloud may be here for some time.

For Mike there will be no cloud in the States. I’ll make sure of that. I’ll be in touch with you Weston. If there’s a break in this affair, we’ll be back.

How did you find a place so fast?

I have a man in New York, a banker by the name of Ashley Simpson. I gave him information and approximate location, he found a place for us.

Weston grinned broadly, I thought you had all your money in my banks?

Lord Walter Brighton laughed, Most of it is. When this affair started I decided to be safe, I’ve a little in several countries. Ashley Simpson found a place not too far from the end of the railroad tracks. Mike and I will share the best years of his life completely dependent on one another. I’m afraid by staying here, Mike may be hurt by the accusations. Besides I’ve wanted an excuse to travel for a few years with Mike. Now I have the excuse. The excuse is sort of self-centered, but Mike’s growing too fast and I’ve been away too much.

Lord Brighton nodded toward the compound below, Mike has been effected by this entire affair, I can see his sadness by the way he moves, by the lack of concentration on what he’s doing.

In the compound below Mike asked his Oriental teacher, Can you tell me what is happening with the family? What happened at the meeting?

The oriental avoided eye contact, It is something you must ask of your father.

The twelve-year-old rolled on his shoulder, rose and hurled four throwing knives, one right after the other, his practiced hands flashed with speed, all four knives sent to the center of the target, the knives buried deep because of the boy’s frustration.

Mike walked forward to retrieve the knives, still trying to pry information from his instructor, I sense my father is terribly hurt by the accusation he could do something to hurt grandfather and the Brighton name.

Michael Brighton loosened the knives from the targets careful not the break the blades of his prized possessions, he waited for an answer. Mikasa did not respond. With a hint of pleading in his voice, Michael asked, Can you help my father with the problem?

Michael Brighton did not know what had occurred to put his father’s character in question, but in the past, he felt Mikasa would do anything to protect his father. To Michael’s knowledge, Mikasa became a friend of Mike’s father when his father saved the Oriental’s life in a port town somewhere in France.

Mike knew little of the story of his father’s first meeting with Mikasa. Mike knew his father was a collector of fighting implements; he had just purchased a claymore, a double-edged fighting sword of the Scottish Highlanders belonging to one of Scotland’s greatest leaders. Mike’s father was taking the previous owner to a roadhouse to celebrate the acquisition. When Mike’s father entered the roadhouse, three men held Mikasa at bay for no cause other than he was an oriental.

One of those accosting Mikasa had a flintlock pistol, the other two carried swords. Mike’s father waded into the threesome with the claymore flailing; the first slice took the hammer off the flintlock, then after a backhand with the hilt to the forehead of another the threat to Mikasa was over. The claymore was now hanging on Mike’s bedroom wall with the nick still in the blade from when his father cleaved the hammer off the flintlock pistol.

After the danger was past, Mikasa had simply said to his father, You have saved my life, my life is now yours. I am your servant. It is a custom, a strong belief of my family.

The more Mike’s father had tried to assure Mikasa he had no debt, the closer the bond between them became. Mikasa soon became a very valued teacher.

Mikasa stood silent, to answer the boy’s question may be a danger to his student and may upset his own plans. The boy held the throwing knives in his hand, he stood and waited for Mikasa to answer.

Mikasa turned away again, he looked down at the ground and replied in halting, broken English, "Your father’s problem is one of honor. Gaining honor is much like preparation for the field of battle. On the battlefield the outcome is pre-ordained by one’s preparation; preparation for battle and fighting skills you have been taught. Honor is not taught.

Honor, is something one takes a lifetime of struggle, and a life of decency and principle.

Mikasa turned to face Michael, the oriental looked to see if his lessons had made an impact on the twelve-year-old. Mikasa wanted to see how the youngster would react in times of stress, could the boy look at the entire question. To the question concerning his father, Michael quickly and indignantly responded, I understand honor. If the problem has anything to do with honor, everyone should know father is innocent of any wrongdoing. He has proven himself in the Queen’s service, there are few in England with greater honor than my father.

As a part of Mikasa’s perceived indebtedness to Lord Brighton, Mikasa took on the task of being Michael’s instructor. Mikasa diligently assured Mike grew with a strong body, a broad base of physical skills and expertise in every conceivable weapon with extensive time spent on preparation for conflict. Besides Michael’s fighting abilities, Mikasa attempted to create in Mike the quiet, but lethal composure of an oriental warrior.

Mike’s lessons had consisted of a wide variety of what Mikasa considered important to be successful in conflict. Lessons included fighting styles from all over the world but concentrated on ancient Oriental methods of hand and foot combat. Mike had developed into an excellent runner and swimmer, activities designed to ensure the development of a strong and healthy body, a body that could in turn take more rigorous practice sessions.

The little oriental turned his back so no emotion would be betrayed to his student.

Mikasa breathed deeply to gain control, control so his voice would disclose no emotion. The boy answered true to form, the lessons on loyalty were well learned as were all the instructions he had given the lad.

Before replying, Mikasa considered the lessons he had given Mike for the past five years. Mikasa knew Michael enjoyed most the lessons involving physical skills but the boy took every lesson to heart no matter the subject or skill. Mikasa had been an unrelenting instructor, as a result, Mikasa felt in any adversity Michael would be true to his instructor, thorough in his assessment and planning, precise in his response.

Taught to consider subtlety, the twelve-year-old became very interested. Mikasa always made eye contact, he never turned his back on him. There was much more to the family problem and Mikasa’s position than Michael had suspected. He wondered what Mikasa was concealing.

As Mikasa continued, Michael listened more intently, Tomorrow you will be leaving for a new country. Always remember what you have learned. Trust in your skills. Work harder, for without an instructor you must compensate by being better, stronger, faster. You must be responsible for pushing yourself. Everett is on his way here. For the remainder of the day, shoot rifle and pistol for an hour with Everett, then you can ride one of the mares. Don’t ride Royal Knight’s Plunder today, your father rode him to London and back.

Mikasa turned to go, then stopped, My final lesson. Don’t let this destiny idea upset you or hold you back. Always do your best, don’t wait for destiny to shape your future. Do as you have been taught. Consider what you want to achieve. Plan well how to carry out your intended achievement. And, always stand with your father.

Mikasa. Why is all this happening to us?

Mikasa shrugged, We cannot tell what shapes our destiny. Remember. Your job, whatever the circumstance, do your best.

Mike knew information was being withheld, he protested, This is unfair.

Mikasa nodded agreement, Much in your life will be unfair. But look around you. You will find unfairness exists in the lives of many. Sometimes it may be your destiny to help. Sometimes your destiny may get in the way of others. You must do your best.

Michael watched his teacher walk away, Mikasa chose to stay behind rather than keep his promise of servitude to his father. Michael wanted to scream his dissatisfaction with his teacher. Something hidden was going on he did not understand. All Mike knew for certain, tomorrow he and his father would sail to America.

As Mike considered the move to America he looked to the stables and Royal Knight’s Plunder. As the tall long-legged stallion looked to Mike with anticipation over the fence, he posed a question to the horse, What do you think Nite? What is my destiny?

Mike shrugged, the one thing he would surely do is try his best. The elderly butler approached with rifle over his shoulder and a box with ammunition and dueling pistols. Mike liked practicing with Everett, particularly pistol. Everett had been in the army, he served twenty years in India; Everett was expert in both rifle and pistol, Everett. I am ready to practice.

Everett and Mike walked to a small roofed building used for shooting, Mike. I have given you many lessons on getting your weapons into use quickly with accuracy. Since this is your last lesson with me. I going to teach you to shoot with your body; how to create a calm that will allow you to shoot with your eyes closed.

The beginning of the moon to plant. (May 1, 1856.) On the plains of the Dakotas.

The tepee of Sioux Chief Lone Buffalo was warm; a fire was kindled to give added comfort for the birth about to take place. Outside, in the brush near the stream, a partridge was drumming in the dawning light. It was at this time the chief’s first wife gave birth to a baby girl. The baby would be named after her great grandmother, and her great grandmother’s great grandmother, she would be called, Partridge Drumming.

Partridge Drumming’s ancestral grandmother was also the wife of a powerful Sioux Chieftain, she was a recognized medicine woman and visionary of the Sioux. The partridge in the brush outside, drumming its wings cast a message to the chief’s wife and confirmed the child’s name as the mother lay in labor.

Mourning Dove, the chief’s adopted daughter, daughter of his wife’s late sister, a girl of twelve summers, sat upright at the high-pitched sounds of the newborn child. It did not occur to Mourning Dove she was only twelve summers and therefore she may not be welcome at the birthing. Mourning Dove had a new sister; she wanted to be there.

Quickly Mourning Dove slipped into her doeskin dress, a dress fitting the daughter of a chief. A measure of wealth among the Sioux was how much one was able to give. The more skilled and artistic one was, the more one could create, the more one could give to those less fortunate. Mourning Dove’s dress was beautifully decorated by skillful quillwork, Mourning Dove’s own handwork. It was well known among the band she was extraordinarily skilled for one of twelve summers. Most did not know the secret extent of her hidden skills.

Mourning Dove knelt at the side of her aunt, the chief’s wife. Mourning Dove enclosed her aunt’s hand in hers, warm and comforting smiles were exchanged.

The chief’s second wife attended the new mother along with the village Winktie, Walks Alone. Walks Alone was highly regarded for her midwife skills. Walks Alone cleansed and wrapped the baby then handed Mourning Dove the newborn child. Mourning Dove gently stroked the newborn’s soft forehead with her lips and cooed lovingly to her new sister. As she held the newborn, Mourning Dove considered the vision she had that same night.

It was the second vision in as many nights, the vision was a private thing, a gift from the Sioux god,