“What do you hope to gain from doing this, James?” his
mother asked all traces of loving mother gone and in its place
was harpy-mom.
“I will gain my family, the one I want not the one you’re
trying to cultivate for me. Tempest is my future. She and
Dakota. Now, answer my question. Why the hell would you do
something like this to us? Why would you want me to be
unhappy?”
Nineteen
“Dakota Falcon Burnell!” The screeched filled the house.
“You’d better get out of your room and prove to me that this is
nothing but a load of shit.” She shook her hand that contained
a handwritten note.
There was no response.
“Dakota!” Tempest banged her fist on his bedroom door.
Nothing.
She took another look at the note she held crunched in
her fingers. Maybe it would all be a hoax. Her son’s writing
leapt off the paper.
Mom,
Please don’t be mad, but I’m going to South Dakota. I’ve got a
flight so by the time you read this I’ll be there. Maverick said to tell
you that he wants you to have faith and he loves you. I know what
I’m doing. Besides, Dad will be there.
Dakota
Tempest dropped to her knees and sat in silence. Her
heart was shattered; this was the first time Dakota had called
James “Dad”. And it was for this.
“I have to go back,” she whimpered. “I have to go back
and face my past. I don’t care if Dakota has the entire damn
United States Marines with him. I have to protect my son from
the evil that lives in those hearts.”
Pushing up from the floor, Tempest snarled, “Damn
you, James, for bringing this shit into my life!”
She called Mili and explained what was going on. As she
shoved some things into a bag, she called the airline to grab the
first flight.
Hours later, Tempest was in a foul mood as she climbed
into her car rental. Her stomach clenched with fear and nausea.
Sweaty palms gripped the wheel as she drove off in the
afternoon towards a town she’d hoped never to set foot in
again.
_
Maverick paced the floor. His parents had tried to give
him excuses. He was beyond furious; but for the moment,
they’d settled into an uneasy silence.
It was all for the good and future of the tribe. Talli was a
good woman for him, they said. They claimed that while they
were sure Sarah…Tempest…was a nice enough person; they
believed he could do much better.
Maverick wanted to beat them both for their bigoted
ideas. Unable to keep silent, he blurted, “When the hell did you
two become racists?”
“We aren’t racists, James.” His mother insisted. “We just
feel that she would be better off with one of her own kind.”
“Her own kind? Jesus, Ina, are you saying we shouldn’t
be together because of our races?”
“They should just be with their own,” she spewed.
“That is such shit. Is that what your problem always was
with the Whitehalls? Skin color?”
Dawn’s eyes shot daggers. “Well, perhaps if that kid’s
mom had been nicer to me, I would have as well.” She held up
a hand. “But I would still want you to marry one of…within
the tribe.”
“So my happiness doesn’t matter? Are you saying that?”
“Of course not! But you could be happy with one of the
People, like Talli. You are our son. Your duty is to your tribe.
Your legacy.”
Maverick struggled not to gag. His parents should be
respected. But, they didn’t make it easy. Ingrained in his mind
sat an image of a scared and young Tempest being berated by
his parents.
“I am a son, your only son. However, now, I’m also a
father; and God willing, I’ll get to be a husband soon. I can’t
listen to this. More lies, stupid reasons for not being with a
woman I truly love. All for your own prejudices. You speak to
me and you lie.”
“We’ve lied?” His mom screeched. “It was her,” she spat
with loathing. “That damn Sarah is who lied. We just protected
you from her claws!”
“No!” he shouted right back at her. “What claws? She
was a child, damn you. She didn’t lie and like I told you before,
I took her virginity. Dakota is mine.”
“Little bastard probably looks nothing like you,”
Rodney Lonetree sneered.
Whirling towards his father, Maverick launched toward
him, wholly intent on ripping him limb from limb. “Don’t you
dare call my son a bastard!” the growled warning came as his
hands threw the older man to the floor.
“Stop it!” Dawn screamed as the men hit the floor.
“James, get off him. You’ll hurt him. Stop!”
Chairs overturned along with the couch as the men
wrestled around. They rolled over an end table, trading blows.
Dawn Lonetree opened the door to yell for help only to be
drawn back into the room when another lamp crashed to the
floor.
Maverick knew he could put his father in a position that
would end the fight. He didn’t. His anger demanded
vengeance.
His mother’s screams bounced off him, totally
ineffective as he punched his father in the nose. Blood spurted
and her yells got louder.
He felt her tugging on his shirt but it didn’t stop him.
Again and again, he punched his father and deflected the
return blows. They stood and Maverick used a shoulder to
shove his father into a wall.
“Dad?”
That single world stopped Maverick as if he’d hit a brick
wall. Turning toward the location of the voice, he saw nothing
but the uncertain look on his son’s face.
“Dakota?” Unsure if he were imagining the sight before
him, he blinked even as he walked forward, the fight forgotten
for the moment.
“I…I…I knocked but…” Dakota gestured to the mess of
the house, “I guess you didn’t hear me.”
Maverick ignored his mother who alternated between
starring at Dakota and her husband. He strode toward his
child, uncaring of the hole in his shirt, the swelling of one eye,
or the blood on his face. “Is everything okay? Tempest? How’d
you get here?” There was no car out in the driveway aside from
his.
“Everything’s fine. I decided to come up here. I followed
you and grabbed a taxi from the airport. I’m sorry, but I
thought I would capitalize on learning about my past while
you were here.”
Relief washed over Maverick. Everything was okay.
Tempest was all right. Heedless of the fact he hadn’t ever
hugged his son, Maverick pulled Dakota roughly into his
embrace. His eyes closed as he clutched the material of his
son’s shirt.
“I love you, Dakota. I hope you know that.” It was the
first time he’d been called Dad and it felt wonderful.
“I do, Dad, I do.” The embrace was returne
d fully.
They separated and Maverick ran a hand over his mouth
as he stared at his son. “Your mother?” He witnessed hesitation
in Dakota’s face. “Well?” he prompted.
“I left her a note.”
“Oh, boy,” Maverick muttered. I bet Tempest isn’t going to
like that much at all. Dakota grinned sheepishly, hands shoved
into his jean pockets. For a moment, he looked a lot younger
than he was.
“He looks…so much like my father,” Dawn commented,
awe apparent in her voice.
Maverick spun around, placing himself between Dakota
and his parents. He didn’t stop Dakota from stepping around
him but Maverick’s body was alert and ready to go to his son’s
defense in a heartbeat.
Keeping a wary eye on both of his parents, Maverick
was amazed at the shock on their faces. They could no longer
deny it; they knew the young man beside him was his son. The
similarities were blatant.
“My name is Dakota. I’m sorry for intruding into your
home, but I needed to speak with my dad.”
Dawn stepped closer. “His features are such a perfect
blend. He could pass as pure Lakota.”
“Thank you, but I’m not. My mother is black.” Dakota’s
statement was issued with challenge in its tone.
Maverick shot his parents a glare to warn them to keep
their mouths shut. Both now knew that he was willing to fight
to defend his son.
“Say goodbye, Dakota. We’re leaving.”
“Where are we going?” Black eyes met his.
“I’m going to teach you about your history on this side.
These two are your grandparents, Rodney and Dawn
Lonetree.” Maverick ran a hand through his hair. “Let’s go.”
Dakota looked as if he wanted to argue but instead he
nodded. “Okay. Sir. Ma’am. Again, I’m sorry about my
intrusion.” He bowed slightly and walked outside without
another word.
“Don’t leave,” Dawn said, reaching for Maverick. “He’s
our grandchild. Give us a chance to know him.”
Maverick understood how being faced with a child
changed everything; it happened to him when he learned about
Dakota being his. Slanting his glance from mother to father,
Maverick was wary of the look in his father’s eyes.
“We need to leave. Goodbye, Ina.” With military spin
and Maverick was out the door and heading to the car in
seconds. “Get in,” he told Dakota once he reached it.
“Where are you taking me?” Dakota asked as he buckled
his belt.
“To meet some of the elders.” Maverick turned on the
car. “You know your mom isn’t going to be pleased.”
“She knew I wanted to learn about this side of my
heritage. Besides, I’m old enough to go somewhere without her
permission.”
“Watch it,” Maverick warned. “That is no way to speak
about her.”
“I’m just saying I’m not a kid anymore.” Dakota
defended himself.
“You’ll always be her baby.” Maverick drove off to the
first home they were going to visit.
_
Tempest sat in her vehicle. She’d stopped at a fast-food
joint and was now attempting to eat some fries. It was difficult.
Normally, French fries were a comfort food; but right now,
they were making her even more nauseous.
She hated all of it. They way the town looked, smelled,
and, most of all, felt. Sipping her root beer, Tempest let her
gaze travel over the area. It was larger, set to attract tourists;
but for her, it was the worst place on earth.
Tempest hadn’t been able to drive by her old home or
Maverick’s. Baby steps, she told herself. Half-heartedly she ate a
fry and watched children in the park.
At one time, she’d played there. But her favorite place
had been the spot by the lake where she’d met James on
occasion. Her crush had quickly elevated into love for the
handsome, young Native American. And for that reason, she’d
never even considered saying “no” the night she’d conceived
Dakota.
“James,” she whispered to the interior of her car.
Opening the door, Tempest got out and tossed her food
in a nearby receptacle. Hands in pockets, she began walking up
the street. She could do this!
Polite smiles and greetings left her as she wandered in
and out of the new tourist shops. Jewelry, clothing, and more
were being sold.
Feeling better, she headed out of a leather store and
almost tripped. Across the street in the park stood Dakota and
two others. One who gave birth to her and the other she used
to call sister.
Her feet propelled Tempest across the street. Fear and
rage raced to the surface as she saw the older woman point at
her son. Her pride and joy.
The sneer that filled the women’s faces stuck a knife
deep into her chest. Tempest began to run, desperate to get
there. She had to wait for a few cars to pass by and her anxiety
increased tenfold.
“…Ugly like your whorin’ mom!” The hurtful words
reached Tempest.
“Hey, you!” Tempest shouted, a cry that grabbed the
attention of everyone in the vicinity. She barreled her way
across the rest of the distance to halt in front of her son. “Who
the fuck do you think you are talking like that to my son?” Her
body trembled as she tried not to hit the woman.
“Sarah?” the younger woman questioned. “Is it really
Tempest ignored her. She kept her eyes on the woman
she believed to be more of a threat. She was like a mother
grizzly protecting her cub.
“Mom?” Dakota asked from behind her.
“Get away from here, Dak. Stay away from this bitch.”
Tempest never took her eyes from Carol Whitehall, the mother
who had given her away. The mother who had disowned her.
“Why did you come back, Sarah?” Carol snarled, her
gnarled fingers curling like talons.
“I swore I wouldn’t but when my son decided to come
here, I knew I had to.” Tempest reached behind her for Dak;
she needed to touch him to reassure herself he was there. Once
she felt him, her hands dropped to her sides.
“Take him,” her birth mother scoffed. “We don’t want
bastard children here, anyway.”
SMACK!
Tempest backhanded her before the statement faded
from the air. “Fuck you, bitch! Talk about my son like that
again, and I’ll beat the black off your fat ass!” Glaring at the
other woman, Tempest spat, “That goes for you too.”
“I see your manners haven’t improved any,” her sister,
Anita, ground out. However, she took a step back.
“You haven’t had the shit kicked out of you, so I’d go
with I have manners.”
Dakota touched her arm. “Mom, please.”
A man walked up to the group. “Sarah?”
Tempest looked at him. He was older, grayed, and
stooped, but she knew him.
Her fat
her.
The man who was supposed to protect her as she grew
up. This man didn’t do that, he failed miserably. He not only
abandoned her, he signed off on her like she was bad meat.
She felt nauseous. Tempest wanted to run away and
hide. Stiffening her spine, she locked away her fear and
uncertainty, holding onto pride and anger. She wouldn’t cower
before these people.
“Mitchell,” she said to the old man, sans emotion. “The
name’s Tempest. Sarah died the day you sent me away.” She
saw shame flare up in his watery eyes, but her heart was
hardened.
“How could you send your own daughter away?”
Dakota demanded, stepping up beside his mother. “She was a
child.”
“She was a whore!” Carol bit out. “And you are nothing
more than a bastard.” The tone was lone and vicious.
“Bitch!” Tempest yelled and lunged forward. Her
motion was halted as she was hauled sideways to hit against
something solid. Something familiar. Maverick.
_
Maverick had left Dakota in the park while he went to
grab some food for supper. They’d spent the afternoon in the
homes of tribal elders. Dakota had been welcomed with hugs
and smiles. He smiled as he recalled how many times they told
Dakota that he looked like Maverick’s grandfather.
Dakota had been filled with knowledge about
ceremonies, rituals, and customs of the Lakota. He’d been told
many stories as well, which Maverick was proud to watch him
soak up eagerly.
Maverick walked out of a diner with some food and was
met with a scene he didn’t want to see ever again. Tempest
enraged. She’d just backhanded her mother and stood before
Dakota as if protecting him.
What the hell happened in the time I grabbed the food?
Dropping the food, Maverick ran towards her and their
son. He was obviously on a mission and people scattered out of
his way.
He reached for Tempest as she lurched toward Carol
Whitehall, her hands curled into claws. “No, Tempest,” he said,
much calmer than he felt. “Don’t stoop to her level.” The feel of
her body in his arms made other things leap into his mind. He
shoved his lust for the woman he held into a corner of his
brain.
Hearing a snicker, Maverick shot a glare at Mrs.
Whitehall. “You would be wise to shut it and leave.” Her
expression told him in no uncertain terms how she felt about
him. Mr. Whitehall stood there weaving with his cane, looking