Chapter 15- An Argument and a talk
Now I know I should have been reading the book of Seneca laws, but the next day after working in the corn fields and trying to wrap my brain around the Seneca words I was ready to take a break. Like I said, speaking the language for me is nothing. Reading it is another thing entirely. It looked like one of my father's prescriptions and I have tried to read one of his with more success than I was having now.
I was seated by the waterfalls the next morning, reading a book by Beverly Lewis. I have a fascination with the Amish culture and Beverly Lewis and Wanda E. Brunstetter are two of the best writers of that culture. So here I was reading "The Parting," happy that for the time being I was reading English.
I didn't hear anyone until Bruce's hand jerked one of my braids. "I thought you were trying to read that book on Indian law," Bruce said, taking the book out of my hands and looking at the title.
"I was. I just needed a break," I said, rubbing my eyes gently.
"Can't blame you there. That is pretty heavy reading," Bruce said, giving me my book back.
"Just don't tell Uncle Peter I was getting lost in Amish country instead of reading the book he gave me," I said.
"You're secret's safe with me, Robbie. I still think it's fascinating that you know this language to begin with," Bruce said as we walked back to the reservation.
"Do you and Rachel want to learn the language? You're going to run into a few people here who don't want to speak English. People like my grandmother are happier speaking Seneca," I said.
"That's not necessary. I'm perfectly content to let you or Dr. Hamilton tell me what they are saying or translate for me when I need to tell them something," Bruce said with a smile.
"I just thought you might like to learn it is all. It's complicated, but once you learn it gets easy," I said as Jane came fuming toward us. Her face was red with anger as she glared at me.
"I hope you're happy now," Jane said, her voice shaking with rage as she spoke in Seneca.
"Okay, what did I do?" I asked, calmly in English for Bruce's benefit. I could of easily spoken in Seneca, but I would have to explain to Bruce what Jane was so angry about and I always thought it was kind of rude to speak the language in front of people who had no idea what you were talking about.
"You know what you did! You're not even Indian and yet my father picked you to be a chief!" Jane protested, this time using English.
"You know, your father and my father might argue that. And what about Jack? He's as white as I am and yet his father picked him?" I asked. My cousin was being completely ridiculous by what she was saying. I could see know why Uncle Peter didn't pick her to be a chief. She was throwing a tantrum and in front of Bruce too!
"He's not even your father, you idiot! He only adopted you because Aunt Ellen couldn't have kids!" Jane said, choosing at that moment to be cruel. I felt tears come to my eyes.
"I never did anything to you! Is it my fault that your father picked me? I don't have to stand here and take this. I'm going home and I suggest you do the same," I said, feeling the tears slip down my cheeks. My cousin had always been a pain, but she had never been this cruel to anyone. I had no idea she was jealous because her father picked me over her. I walked past her, Bruce following. Jane didn't follow. She just stood there with her mouth open.
"That went well," Bruce commented dryly.
"Yeah. My cousin had no right to argue this. She could get in trouble with Uncle Peter and the council of tribal chiefs if I choose to tell him about this," I said, keeping my eyes ahead.
"You're not going to?" Bruce asked.
"Nope. The way I figure it she'll get over it and if she doesn't then she'll get in trouble by her own mouth. She's always been kind of a loudmouth. It's not my fault that Uncle Peter picked me. I will tell Dad what she said about his only adopting me because they couldn't have kids. I'm sure that was the reason, but she didn't have to say it like that. I am sorry Bruce that she said all of that with you there," I apologized as we stepped up to the council-house.
My father was there with Grandpa and Uncle Peter. "Where have you been?" Dad asked as he hugged me tightly.
"Just reading," I said casually. I would tell him later about Jane if the need arose.
"You almost didn't make it on time," Dad said as we entered the smoke-filled room. Someone opened the windows and the fireplace flue and the room cleared out instantly. It was then that I saw the other choices for chiefs of the tribe. I wasn't the only girl picked. There where three or four other girls that came from different areas of the reservation and some boys. The only one I knew was Jack. I stood next to him. He looked almost nervous as he bit his lips.
"Any idea what the elders are gonna say?" I whispered to him.
"Dad tried to give me an idea, but he didn't really tell me what they'd say. He told me that Lone Fox picked you," Jack said, his blue eyes bright in the room. Lone Fox was my uncle's Indian name as we all have one to use besides our white names.
"Yeah. Jane tried to pick an argument about it a few minutes ago," I grunted softly.
"You should tell your uncle, Green Moss," Jack said, using my Indian name. I wasn't exactly fond of it, but when my parents first brought me here to visit my relatives the people of the tribe gave me the name since my eyes were the color of moss.
"I'm not going to. Jane has always been a loudmouth. She'll get into trouble on her own without my help," I said as someone beat a drum and the room went quiet.
My uncle and another elder named Strong Bear stepped forward. "Welcome, Children. You were all picked to later become chiefs after we are gone. Since we are trying to keep up with the world we have picked some of the young girls of the tribe to be leaders. Most of you are our daughters and only one of you is the niece of one of the chiefs. Being a chief is hard work. You have to be here four or five times a year for council decisions and trained in the ways of being a chief for the next four or five years. That will also go with your education at the white man's schools. Then after you become a chief you will be called on to make difficult decisions and then you train the chief who will be after you. Are there any questions?" Chief Strong Bear asked, in his calm, soothing voice.
I raised my hand. "Is there any way we can all practice on reading the Seneca language? I speak it just fine, but I have difficulties in reading it," I said nervously.
"Sounds a whole lot like us when we were their age," Uncle Peter said amused.
"That is another thing we will train all of you on. All of you have been picked because of your readiness to adapt to the ways of our people. Except for Green Moss and Running Elk you have all been born into the culture. Green Moss and Running Elk were adopted into our culture and proved to be fast learners. Green Moss, you can learn to read the language. You just have to practice with it and ask your father to help you. He can read the language," Strong Bear said.
"Are there any other questions?" Jack's father Trent Mason asked. A few minutes passed and no one asked anything.
"Now all of you will be given these," Strong Bear said, indicating bead necklaces that had feathers intertwined with them. The feathers were those of the eagle; a symbol of leadership and flying over problems. My necklace was beautiful. It was made of glass beads and made me think of Joseph and the coat of many colors. The feathers added to the colors. After that we could leave. I slipped the beads over my head and went outside.
Bruce and Dad were standing there and they both came up to me. "You smell like wood smoke," Dad said, wrinkling his nose as I hugged him.
"Would it kill you to ask me how it went?" I asked dryly as Bruce hugged me. Apparently Bruce didn't care that I smelled bad from smoke.
"I'm sorry. How did it go, little bit?" Dad asked. I winced. I hate being called "Little Bit." Dad knows that as well as I do, but I usually try to ignore it.
"Okay, I guess. Strong Bear said you could help me with reading Seneca since my reading skills in that area are kind of poor," I said as we walked back to Grandmother and Grandpa's cabin. Bruce was on one side of me and Dad was on the other.
"All you have to do is ask. Of course reading romance novels won't cause you to learn the language any faster, Rachel," Dad said sternly. I felt my face grow hot. I looked over at Bruce.
"Bruce, you didn't tell him, did you?" I asked in an accusing tone.
"Wayne didn't tell me. I know that you read out there by the waterfalls. I'm not completely oblivious, Rach," Dad said.
"How did you know?" I asked, my interest piqued.
"If I told you I'd lose all credibility as your father," Dad said a note of finality in his voice. Dad could stop a conversation pretty quickly. That's where I had learned it. But that didn't mean I was done asking. I would ask Mom or Grandmother later. They would tell me how Dad knew I went to the waterfalls to read.
We entered the house. Mom, Rachel, and Grandmother were having a three-way conversation over green cornbread. Apparently Mom and Grandmother were trying to teach Rachel how to cook Seneca-style. Alfred stood there, looking amused.
"So how's the cooking lesson going?" I whispered to Alfred.
"Your mother is having difficulty with the instructions since she's hearing Seneca and English at the same time," Alfred said, smiling at the scene.
"That makes two of us. The first, and only time, Grandmother and Mom tried to teach me how to make green cornbread I burned it where not even the dogs in the village would eat it. Jane, being Jane, said I was trying to poison everybody with my cooking," I said as Mom put a cake in the oven.
"It wasn't that bad, Rachel. Don't overdramatize things," Mom said, looking up and brushing strands of sweaty blond hair out of her face.
"Who's overdramatizing?" I asked.
"You are. You're cooking leaves a lot to be desired, but it didn't taste that bad and Jane didn't quite say it like that," Mom said, sounding like the voice of reason.
"Sure take her side. Everyone else does," I muttered the last part. Well, actually that was completely untrue. No one takes Jane's side in anything. They all know as well as I do that Jane is a spoiled brat. Mom has even mentioned that Jane is jealous that I'm the favorite among the family. I don't know how I got to be the favorite. It just happened that way.
"Do any of you need my help with anything?" I asked in both Seneca and English for both Rachel and my grandmother's sake.
"We need some wood, right Yellow Bird?" Mom asked grandmother in her own falting Seneca and also in English.
"Yes. Some wood would be appreciated," Grandmother said with her calm gentle smile at me.
"I'll go with her," Rachel said, wiping her hands on a towel.
We walked out the door. My father, grandfather, Bruce, Mr. Mason, and other men of the tribe were there talking. "You know, Rachel, you didn't have to come out here with me just to get wood," I said as we walked into the woods.
"I don't mind. I wanted to get out of the kitchen and I haven't really been able to talk with you. Even though you are fourteen now, things haven't changed much. You still cling more to your father than you ever did to me," Rachel said.
"I did get that impression when I looked through newspaper articles. There were more pictures of me with Bruce than there were of me with you. Did I just automatically cling to him for some reason?" I asked, as I started snapping sticks off fallen trees.
"I never understood why you always wanted him. When you were born and would start to cry I couldn't calm you down. Only your father could do that. You always were a Daddy's girl," Rachel said, her brown eyes looking like sludge.
"Rachel, I'm sorry," I apologized, sitting on the log next to her.
"It's not your fault. I think your father was happy when he found out that I was pregnant. He thought that with you that you wouldn't have to suffer nearly as much as he did as a child. Your father has never gotten over seeing your grandparents killed in front of him," Rachel said, smoothing my hair and forehead gently with her hand.
"Is that what made him Batman?" I whispered softly so no one could hear the conversation.
"Yes. I almost married someone else because of it. But one of your father's enemies kidnapped me and the man I was supposed to marry. Your father and the police managed to rescue us and I realized I loved your father, not the man I was supposed to marry. I wanted your father. I never really agreed with Batman, but I realized that if I loved Bruce I had to accept that Bruce was Batman. That just because he does this doesn't mean he loves me less. I did make him promise when I pregnant that Batman wouldn't endanger you. That you wouldn't see your father as that," Rachel said, the tears spilling over.
"I didn't intend to see him as Batman this time. Also, it was because of Batman I was kidnapped, wasn't it?" I asked.
"In a way it was. Your father told you about Henri Ducard, didn't he?" Rachel asked as we stood.
"A little bit. He said that Ducard wanted Bruce to help him destroy Gotham. Bruce refused. When Bruce refused Ducard burned Wayne Manor down and left him for dead. Apparently he decided to get even a second time by taking you," Rachel said as we left the woods
"Is there any chance Ducard could come back once he finds out that I messed up his plans by kidnapping me?" I asked softly.
"Your father says there is a chance, but he told me that he'll try to protect you when the time comes," Rachel said as we entered the house. I hoped Rache3l was right. I didn't want to live through a repeat performance of this again.