|
Chapter One
Shadow stood at the bottom of the steps. He glanced down at his worn buckskins and dusted them off with the palms of his hands. Slow woman had done her best to make them look neat and clean, so he would impress the shop keepers. She had taken great care to pull his long black hair back into a neat braid down the center of his back. She had even woven the feather of hummingbird into the braid. Shadow smoothed his hair with his hands to ensure there were no loose strands and looked down at his three-year-old son. "Today we will hunt, and bring back food for our women, he said with a twinkle in his eye. Hawk jumped up and down excitedly, "how," he asked? We will speak the white man’s words, and ask for work in his food house," Shadow said with mock pride. Three-year-old Hawk smiled up at his father. "Eat," Hawk said happily. "Yes, little warrior, If the spirits are with us today, our hunt will be successful and we will have food." Shadow turned his gaze to the door at the top of the steps, then back to Hawk, his heart was heavy for his son. His cheekbones were sharp and made his little eyes seem hidden behind dark circles. Shadow bent down, straightened Hawk’s leggings, dusted off his tiny moccasins, then took his fragile hand in his own. "Come," Shadow said, "we will knock on the white man’s back door."
Shadow hated that his people were made to come only to the back door of the white man’s shops. There had been a time when his people stood tall. They asked no white man for permission to walk on this land. Now, his people must walk with their eyes facing the earth, not allowed to look into the eyes of the white’s. They were made to walk through the rubbish of the alley ways behind the shops, through filth and mud to beg for food or work. Shadow had done his best to find food for his family to avoid humiliating himself before these white shop keepers. But, he could no longer watch his children go to bed hungry, and Slow Woman was so thin he feared she would break under his touch.
Shadow put his foot onto the step and looked up at the back door. He could hear sounds of the people talking and eating and his hunger growled deep inside of him. Hawk slipped in the slime of rotted vegetables and landed on his tiny knees. Shadow picked him up wiping remnants of the rotting mush away from his hands and knees. "No Blackfoot son should have to endure such a thing," Shadow mumbled under his breath. When he had cleaned Hawk’s hands and knees as best he could, he picked him up and carried him to the top of the steps.
Flies buzzed around the dirty screen door and Shadow hesitantly knocked on the wooden frame. When no answer came, Shadow knocked once more. "Hold on," a man’s gruff voice said from the dark interior. Shadow lowered his head as he had been taught to do, and did his best to bend his six-foot frame into a humble pose. Shadow stared down at the peeling paint of the steps and saw the confused look in his three-year-old son’s eyes as he looked up at his father. Hawks’ eyes moved to the screen door when he heard the man approaching. "What do you want," a fat man in a dirty white apron said, as he chewed on the stub of a cigar sticking out from his clenched teeth.
Shadow kept his eyes lowered and said, "I am looking for work in the white man’s food house." The white man looked down at Hawk then back to Shadow. He sneered, took the remains of the cigar out of his mouth and gave a great bellow of laughter. Hawk watched as the fat man’s belly bobbed up and down with his laughter. "Damn dirty Indians," the man snarled, "always looking for a handout." He stuck the remains of his cigar back in his mouth and slammed the door in Shadow’s face.
Anger raged inside of Shadow. He had humbled himself in front of his son. He had humbled himself to this white man in order to feed his starving family, and the fat white man did nothing more than slam the door in his face. Anger raged and Shadow fought to hold control of his temper. His father, and his father’s father had taught him that you must never let the enemy see that they have wounded your spirit. But far worse to Shadow was that his son must learn to be humble in the presence of these whites. Shadow looked down at the confused look of his child and quietly took his hand. Biting back his anger he slowly turned away from the closed door. "Come with me, little warrior," he said quietly to his son.
copyright 2006
|
