IN LOVING MEMORY OF
Connie West Marshall
1949–2013
—J.M. III
JIMMY McCLEAN WALKED AMONG THE BUFFALO BERRY thickets along the Smoking Earth River. It was a warm afternoon in late May. School was done for the week, and almost for the year. Jimmy was glad of that. He was tired of being teased for having blue eyes.
The river cut through the valley below the town of Cold River. Cold River was on the northern edge of the Rosebud Sioux Indian Reservation in South Dakota. Jimmy lived with his parents in a modular house on the east side. That was okay. But it was not okay that he lived two blocks from Cold River Public School. He hated school. Corky Brin and Jesse Little Horse were two of the reasons. Maybe they were the only reasons. No, he didn't like math, or PE, either. In PE he had to hold hands with a girl. It was a game everyone had to play. But holding hands with a girl—that was embarrassing.
Corky teased him about it, and so did Jesse. Corky was white, and Jesse was Lakota. They didn't like each other, but they seemed to bond over teasing Jimmy.
Jimmy had blue eyes and light-brown hair. Other Lakota children had black hair, brown skin, and brown eyes. They had family names like Little Horse, Turning Bear, Bissonette, or Black Wolf. This was another reason for Corky and Jesse to tease him.
McClean was a white name. It was his other grandfather's name, a man he had never met. Angus McClean was his dad's dad. His mom was Anne, and her last name was High Eagle. But now she was Anne McClean. Jimmy's dad was James McLean Sr. No one called him Jimmy. James Sr. was half Lakota and half white. His hair was dark brown and his skin was a bit lighter than most Lakota people's, but his eyes were brown. Jimmy was James McClean Jr.
His dad's mom was Madeline Bear, from the Pine Ridge Reservation, in the western part of the state. It all meant—as his mom explained—that three parts of Jimmy were Lakota and one part was white. That part was Scottish, to be exact.
"The problem is," Anne McClean would say, "your three Lakota parts are all hidden inside. Your one white part is on the outside."
Jimmy understood what she meant, but it didn't make him feel any better. It was the main reason Corky and Jesse teased him.
"You're just an Indian pretending to be white" was what Corky liked to say.
"Who ever heard of a Lakota with blue eyes and a name like McClean?" Jesse would say.
Jimmy's usual reply always infuriated Jesse even more. "Malakota yelo!" he would yell. Which meant "I am Lakota" in Lakota. Jesse did not understand or speak Lakota. According to Jesse, a blue-eyed Lakota was strange. And one who spoke Lakota was even stranger.
Jimmy never fought, because he was eleven and Jesse was twelve and bigger. Corky was bigger than Jesse, so every argument with either of them was a loss, because it made Jimmy feel small and weak.
Now he found refuge, again, in the trees and thickets by the Smoking Earth River. Here the trees accepted him just the way he was, blue eyes and all. So did the grasses, and the birds, and the rabbits. Here, by the river, he was just a boy.
On Saturday morning Jimmy awoke to the sound of his grandfather Nyles's voice. He hurried to the bathroom to splash water on his face. In the kitchen he found his parents and Grandpa Nyles having coffee and talking in English. Sometimes they spoke in Lakota, but not this morning.
"Hey, sleepyhead," James called out to his son. "I thought you were going to snore all morning." James was in his dark-blue uniform. He was a tribal police officer and sometimes worked on Saturdays. Today was one of those sometimes.
Jimmy let his dad rumple his hair. "Hey, Grandpa," he said as he hugged his mom. She was a Head Start teacher and did not work on Saturdays. "What's the haps?"
Nyles High Eagle's brown face had deep creases. He was tall, and his hair was long and black, sprinkled with gray. He always wore it in a single braid. A wide smile beamed for his grandson. "Got some chores," he said in a strong, soft voice. "Means riding horses, though. I know you don't like to do that."
"Who told you that?" Jimmy teased back. "I was born riding horses." It was his favorite thing to do. Well, next to being with his grandpa.
"A meadowlark," answered Grandpa Nyles. "Just yesterday one told me that. Mom and Dad say as soon as you have breakfast and get ready, we can go."
"I'm not hungry," Jimmy said. "I'll be ready in a sec."
"There'll be breakfast waiting for you," Anne McClean said. "Take a shower, get dressed, and take some clothes for overnight. You're not leaving this house without breakfast."
Jimmy nodded and hurried away to his room. There was no arguing with his mom when she used that tone of voice. Anyway, he was spending the night with Grandpa Nyles and Grandma Sarah! They lived ten miles out of town, on a small horse ranch.
Jimmy smiled ear to ear as he loped across the prairie with Grandpa Nyles. He was riding Little Warrior, a small but sturdy buckskin quarter horse. Grandpa was on Dancer, a muscular bay quarter horse stallion. Grandpa Nyles had a small herd of horses. There was the stallion, three mares, their colts, and two geldings for riding. Little Warrior was a gelding.
Their chore was checking Grandpa Nyles's twelve miles of fences. Jimmy knew Grandpa Nyles hated barbed wire, but it did keep the neighbors' cattle out of the horse pastures. So it was important to check the fences regularly, just in case there were breaks or any loose wire.
They stopped along Horse Creek, which flowed into the Smoking Earth River. Grandpa wanted to rest the horses and let them graze. Besides, it was always good to relax in the shade of some big, tall cottonwood trees. Jimmy took a long stick and poked around in the grasses before he sat down. It was a way to scare away snakes. Grandpa had taught him that.
Sitting against the trunk of a giant cottonwood tree, they listened to the creek gurgling and watched the horses munch on grass. This was the sort of thing Jimmy wanted to do the rest of his life.
"So them boys been teasing you again?" Grandpa asked suddenly.
Jimmy nodded. "Yeah," he said softly.
"Well," drawled Grandpa Nyles, a blade of grass between his teeth, "what's their main problem?"
"I don't know." Jimmy shrugged. "They say I'm not Lakota."
"Why? Because your skin is light and you have blue eyes?"
Jimmy shrugged again. "I guess so."
"I think I can settle this whole issue once and for all," declared Grandpa Nyles.
Jimmy perked up. "You going to beat them up?" He could almost see that.
"No," Grandpa replied with a chuckle. "Don't think we can change them boys. But we might change how you look at things."
"What do you mean, Grandpa?"
"Well, the answer to that question is a long one. It means you and me are going on a trip, soon as school is out. Are you up for that?"
Jimmy sat up straight. This was too good to be true. "You mean, like camping?"
"Yeah, there'll be some camping. A lot of driving. And seeing some interesting and important places."
Jimmy could not believe his ears. He couldn't wait!
"One more thing," added Grandpa. "You remember the stories about Crazy Horse, don't you?"
"Yeah. You told me he was the greatest Lakota warrior, a long time ago."
"Did I tell you what he looked like?"
Jimmy shook his head. "No, I don't think so."
"Well," said his grandpa, "let me show you what he looked like. Let's go to the creek."
Puzzled, Jimmy followed his grandpa.
"Now," said Grandpa Nyles, kneeling carefully at the edge of the bank. "Look into the water."
Jimmy looked down, but all he could see was their reflections.
Grandpa pointed at Jimmy's. "Who do you see there?" he asked.
"Me—that's me, Grandpa."
"Are you sure? I could swear that's Crazy Horse when he was your age. Though his hair was probably a bit longer."
Jimmy was still puzzled, but now he was curious, too. "For reals?"
"Yeah. My great-grandfather—your great-great-grandfather—was born in 1860. He saw Crazy Horse, as close as you are to me. He said Crazy Horse had light skin, like you, and brown hair, like you. He didn't have blue eyes. But some boys teased him, too."
Jimmy stared at his own reflection in the water. No way, he thought. I don't look like Crazy Horse.
"Yeah," sighed Grandpa, as if he had read Jimmy's thoughts. "I could swear that's young Crazy Horse looking at me. Of course, when he was a boy, they called him Light Hair."
Jimmy couldn't take his eyes off his own face looking back at him.
"Tell you what," Grandpa Nyles continued. "Now that you have some idea what he looked like, want to go see where he lived, and played, and hunted—all that stuff?"
Jimmy looked at his grandpa and smiled.
