Traveler trilogy Book 2, updates every Friday!
Five years after killing Levi Cornwall, Arthur Morgan is happy. He has a wife who loves him, an honest job he enjoys, and two beautiful children named Sadie and Hiram. All of it is turned on its head, h...
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Hunting with Eagle Flies was one of the few things that brought Jenny any joy anymore. She'd been making time to go up to the reservation and see him as often as possible because it gave her an excuse to get away from camp for a while. She hated sleeping away from Arthur, but she hated seeing Micah more. Now that Hosea was gone and it was an open secret around the camp that Arthur was deathly ill, Micah seemed to be seizing more and more power, and his taunting of Jenny had become even more merciless.
But with Eagle Flies and Peyta and the others, she felt like herself. When she was with the Wapiti, she felt free.
Eagle Flies seemed bound and determined to teach her everything there was to know about her heritage. The Wapiti and Lakota Sioux were cultural cousins, after all. Even their language was similar. She'd learned a great deal from him about Indian craftsmanship and tradition, and even her style of clothing changed dramatically when she was in his company.
He'd gifted her a pair of buckskin leggings that were cream-colored and very soft, and she wore them often on long rides, along with buckskin breeches and the vest with elk ivories she'd worn in the raid on Angelo Bronte's mansion several weeks ago. Dressed in skins with her braid and eagle feathers and beaded jewelry, there wasn't a trace of her white ancestry immediately present unless one looked very, very closely.
She felt closer to her mother when she dressed like this. It reminded her of the few memories Jenny had from before her father killed her, and Jenny was left to endure his abuses alone. On a horse with a bow in pursuit of food or enemies was where Jenny felt most alive, and most like herself anymore.
"Hummingbird!" Eagle Flies called to her as his horse cantered to a stop beside where she and Moondancer had been standing on a hill, looking out over the Heartlands. "What are you looking at?"
"It's so beautiful," she said. "It makes me regret that I came from Oklahoma and not my people's ancestral lands. Oklahoma is flat and ugly, but from what I hear, this place isn't too different from the Black Hills and other places where the Lakota lived. I hate that white men took my home from them, kidnapped my mother, and ruined my life."
"Now you understand why the Wapiti must fight for our own lands," Eagle Flies said gently. "Otherwise, we will share the same fate as your ancestors."
"Yes," said Peyta, joining them and pulling his own horse to a stop on Jenny's other side to admire the view as well. "Rains Fall is a good man, but he is a weak chief. If we allow the white men to do as they please with us, our grandchildren may be like you. They may be constantly in sorrow, and forget all our most sacred traditions."
Jenny liked Peyta, too. He was Eagle Flies' childhood friend, and he was an excellent foil to some of Eagle Flies' most hotheaded tendencies. Peyta was fiercely loyal to his friend, but he had a calmer demeanor and was often able to persuade Eagle Flies from doing anything too foolish. He had an easy way of speaking and moving that wasn't unlike Rains Fall, but he agreed more with Eagle Flies that the Wapiti couldn't just sit around and do nothing while the U.S. government bullied them into the grave.
