After his village he had lived in since childhood had been raided, Tosaabitu Wasápe, or White Bear, made a rather unwilling reintroduction into white man's society. Being forced onto a reservation with the rest of his kin, he became just as surly as the rest of the young men, and at 18, he was already on his way to being the largest brave in the tribe as well the best knife fighter. Even with his remarkable strength and skill with a blade, he still had to work twice as hard to be accepted by the other boys. The reason being: he was white. He was taken into the tribe while still a young boy when his family was killed by the same raiding party that carried him away. It was nearly impossible to identify his actual heritage unless one was actually looking for it, for he had dark hair, eyes, and skin.
One day he decided to experiment with his hard-practiced skills. He would steal a horse from the stockade and find a way back to the main tribe that was still giving the US Cavalry the runaround. Surely this would prove him to be all-Comanche. Goaded on by his fellow braves, he jumped onto a trooper guard and leapt onto the back of the nearest horse and took off at a gallop. His so-called friends immediately scattered as the nearest soldiers hurried to get their own horses prepared. All were left in the dust as Wasápe disappeared into the night on a dark colored horse.
Later it became known to him that the soldiers gave up almost as quickly as it all began. What was one boy going to do? They notified the local Ranger Company to be on the lookout for a single Comanche boy on a horse with a US brand and left it at that. He roamed around for a while, avoiding all white men that he could. One day, a couple months after the incident, he spied a small homestead. Leaving his horse in some brush, he laid down on his stomach in the tall grass to spy on the people who lived there. His first reaction was anger at the tejanos, these annoying settlers who thought it was a suitable to chop up mother earth with their large blades. He fingered his knife, which was as always kept in a sheath on his left leg, but lost the compellation to kill. He felt the ancestors' scorn, but suddenly came to the realization that the Comanche's ancestors and his ancestors were not actually the same. Seeing the woman in her homemade dress and apron suddenly made his pulse quicken, but it wasn't a blood thirst. When the woman started speaking to the young girl beside her, Wasápe was startled to realize how well he could understand them. His curiosity was spiked, and Wasápe wished to hear more. He slithered closer on his belly but jolted to a stop when he felt a rifle tickle the hairs on his neck.
"Hold it, you red-skin!"
Wasápe smirked. It was nothing but a mere boy. He easily snatched the boy's ankle and jerked him off his feet. He was on top of the helpless child in a second, knife out and ready to cut.
"JOEY!" the woman shrieked, and Wasápe jerked as if shot, his head whipping toward her voice, eyes wild. That name! It was so...familiar. That was when Wasápe realized that before he was White Bear, he was…Joey.
"Ma!" the boy cried, and suddenly Wasápe realized that the woman was not calling to him, but to the boy on the ground. Wasápe looked down at Joey and frowned. The boy could not have been more than eight summers old. Tears were already coursing down his face. The woman and girl were charging toward Wasápe, reminding him of the mother of his namesake. He raised the knife off Joey's neck and instead pointed it in their direction, effectively halting them in their tracks.
"You…," he choked. He had not used this tongue in so long, he could hardly remember how. The two female's eyes were bugging out of their heads, but they did not utter a sound. "You…no come. Me…I…kill this one." There, that got the point across. He got to his feet, yanking the boy up with him, one hand holding the boy's face and the other holding the knife at his throat again.
The mother spread her hands in a placating gesture. "Please, don't kill my boy…. Do you speak English?"
Wasápe grunted.
"Please," she began again, "put that knife down. We won't do you no harm." Then, her eyes remained on Wasápe, but she spoke to the girl. "Idabelle," she murmured out of the corner of her mouth. "Go get some food and a blanket." Wasápe tightened his grip on the boy's face when the girl started to back away slowly, causing him to whimper.
"Where she go?" he growled, startling himself at how easily the words came to him.
"It's alright," the woman said, her hands moving with her words in reassuring circles. "She is going to bring some things here for you to have."
His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he kept his knife still. He would see what they had to offer. Moments later, the girl came out of the cabin with a blanket that appeared to be holding things. She knelt down a step in front of her mother and spread out the plain grey fabric. Inside was a partial loaf of bread, a sizable chunk of bacon, and some dried apples.
Taking in all of the items, Wasápe looked back to the eyes of the woman. Her hands were up again, only in a more begging position. "Please, please, give me back my boy. Take these things in exchange."
Wasápe did battle in his mind. A good brave would take these things and take the tejanos' scalps to go with them. However, his knife was stilled when the boy started to fidget in his arms. The woman said, "Stop, Joey." It was as though she were speaking to him, Wasápe…or Joey. He felt torn in half. At the rate he was going, he would never find a friendly tribe to take him in before winter. It was not like he could return to the reservation. That wasn't even an option, not with what happened when he left hanging over his head. He could still kill these tejanos and take their horses and all the food they had and camp alone in the hills through the winter and try to find his tribe in the spring…but winter was long and cruel when you did not have shelter, so killing these whites would do little for him. The boy was still whimpering and the girl was poised on the ground, her hands wringing. The mother's face was worst of all. She just stood there silently, her eyes full of tears, but also of hope. She reminded him of his first mother. Memories of her death rose unbidden before his eyes. How could he take away another beautiful creature like his mother? He made his decision.
"You," he nodded at the girl. "Put up food, wrap up real good. We take to my horse." While the girl started to do as he asked, the mother took another step forward.
"Thank you! Bless you, young man," she said, her tears finally breaking free and spilling over her sun-tanned cheeks.
Wasápe's heart leapt in his chest when he heard her. He felt the need to redeem himself to this woman. He shoved the boy into her waiting arms. "I never hurt him. You remember this." He hesitated, then said, "One time, my name be Joey too."
Still clutching the boy in her arms, she said, "I can see the white in you, boy. You lived with the Comanche for a long time?"
Not sure why he was conversing with this strange woman, he said, "Since I was like him," he pointed at Joey.
"Where are you from?" she asked, tentatively.
Her daughter was standing now, the blanket folded into a neat parcel. "What are you doin', Ma?" she whispered. "He just tried to kill Joey."
"I never hurt him," Wasápe said, defensively. He crossed his arms over his chest, pleased when the girl's eyes bulged at the sight of his muscular arms. She would make a good squaw he mused. Perhaps he would take her with him. Winters were cold and he was due to marry soon.
"Well, you sure enough were goin' to until I brought you this stuff!" Maybe she wasn't such a good prospect after all. Nobody wanted a nagging woman to pester him. He settled on a brooding glare that made her mouth close with a snap.
The woman took the bundle from the girl and said, "Idabelle, take your brother up to the cabin. Now, please." Idabelle cast one last look Wasápe's way before taking her brother by the hand and leading him to the ramshackle structure. The mother looked back at Wasápe. "Thank you so much, Joey." She held out the bundle. He reached for it, and felt very ashamed when she flinched away from his knife, which was still in his hand. He thrust it back in its sheath. She smiled gently and held out the blanket again, which he took.
His hand touched hers, and he felt the work-hardened hand of a farm wife. She must be a good worker, good looking too, but no woman has children without a man. Nodding his head at her, he said, "You fine woman, out here by self. You have man?"
Her face reddened, and her eyes dropped a little. "Um, no…." She sounded reluctant.
"You not have to worry. I take care of you now."
She gasped and took a step back. "You…you…."
He shrugged. "I am very strong. I have no place for winter. You have no man. I stay here."
Her face heated even more at his declaration. "Um, Joey, you are much younger than me. That is to say, you are almost the same age as my daughter. If you are suggesting what I think you are…."
He frowned at her. What was she proposing? "Woman, I not mean this bad, but I will leave after winter. I cannot stay here for long time, not be your man always." He looked at the blanket in his arms, and felt his own face warm. He cast it back at her like it contained a rattler. "I not take your blanket! I sleep on my own!"
She took the blanket clumsily, her eyes wide. Then, to Wasápe's surprise, she started to laugh.
"For why you do this," he muttered, confused.
"I am sorry, Joey. You just confused me there for a second. I would appreciate your help…. I am just not sure…." Her eyes strayed to the knife on his leg. "You may be white in the blood, but you are Comanche in the heart. Our people have been fighting for so long. My man…that is why is gone now."
Wasápe felt a pang in his heart. Why did everything have to be so complicated? He needed a place to winter, she needed help. Why could it not be as simple as that? He voiced his thoughts as best as he could with his halting speech, then continued, saying, "I try my best to be Comanche for long as I 'member with them. I try to be good warrior, be strong, prove them I am a man. But they always remind me that I am white. Even my Comanche name, Tosaabitu Wasápe, tells to all that I am white."
"You don't have to go back to them. You could become like us again."
He wanted to believe it, but he had worked so long and hard to be the warrior he was today. "Me, a warrior? Some warrior. I let these tejanos live and offer to help keep them alive through the winter? The coyote is telling me his lies and making me foolish."
She could tell he was battling within himself. "Just stay for supper. You can decide after that." Even as they were standing there, a few snowflakes started to fall around them. She held out one arm. "Come in, Joey, come in."
His inner turmoil was not settled, so even while he took a step forward he said, "Call me Wasápe. Means bear in white words."
Her smile was strained. "Alright, Wasápe it is. I suppose it would be confusing if there were two Joeys in the house."
He pondered this, and then offered a tentative smile.