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Gregory sat in the stage staring out into the night sky. He had been riding in the train for many days. But when the stage driver offered to give him a break from riding, he refused. His instinct told him to keep going. Even if he was tired of sitting for so many hours, he didn’t want to delay her arrival any further.
Once the sun set, Gregory tried to fall asleep. He had the entire coach to himself, yet he couldn’t get comfortable. So he took to writing. Pulling out his journal, he began to reflect on the events that could follow.
“Dear Diary,” he wrote. “The day of my arrival at the reservation is nearing. The driver said that if we drive through the night we will make it in two days. I’m just glad there are twp drivers so that they can manage the task. I have begun to wonder why Little Deer invited me to visit. My first instinct was that she missed me. I miss her constantly. I never meant to fall in love, but it happened. It’s just the more I think about it, the more I doubt her love for me. I, of course, know she considers me her friend, but I don’t know if it is more then friendship we share. I want to marry her. But I do not want to ask if she does not wish it also. I wouldn’t want to ruin our friendship over it.”
Just then an eerie face flashed outside the window. It was only there momentarily, but Gregory saw the pale features staring right at him. He jumped at the site. After the fright passed, he tried to convince himself that it was simply his mind playing tricks on him. He dismissed his fright and continued writing. Suddenly a rush of cold burst through the coach. There was no wind, only cold. Gregory knew the windows were closed, but carefully stood to check each one anyway. Returning to his seat, he pulled a blanket around his shoulders. When he situated himself to write again, he noticed a figure sitting across from him.
* * * * *
Gregory dropped his journal to the floor and let out a small scream. The driver heard him yell. “You alright, sir?” he called down.
“Yes…yes I’m fine,” Gregory managed to respond out the window.
“Well, ya best get some sleep,” he suggested. “There’s an extra blanket under the seat.”
“Yes. I’ll try. Thank you.”
The writer’s eyes returned to the ghostly figure. It was a young Native American woman, but Gregory did not recognize her. The woman’s hair was long and jet-black. It was twisted into two braids that ran down either side of her chest. The braids ran down to her waist where they were tied off with small pieces of rawhide. Colorful beads had been strung on longer pieces of the same material and were woven through the braids.
Her dress was stained hide, decorated with the same beads that adorned her hair. It fell just below her knees in a shower of fringe. Gregory tried to muster the courage to speak, but his tongue was quickly turning to sawdust. The harder he tried to speak, the drier his mouth got. Finally, moisture returned to his mouth and he managed to muster, “Who…who…are…y-y-you?”
The phantom smiled. “Unfortunately, you never knew me. Only about me and my people. You were too prejudiced at the time to see that we were human too.”
Gregory tried to defend himself against this harsh reality, but he could think of nothing appropriate to say. Whoever or whatever this person was, she was right. Gregory had been prejudiced against the Native Americans for a long time. It wasn’t until his relationship with Little Deer that he truly saw them as real people. The spirit continued, “I am Little Deer’s sister…Singing Brook. Do you not remember me from our last meeting?”
Gregory concentrated on the woman’s face, trying her best to find something recognizable. Yes it was true that they had never met. But there was the time when the Sioux had come into town for Thanksgiving. Gregory had seen Little Deer and Singing Brook together there. She had not been willing to mingle with them as Lily so often did. But she had seen the woman before. Only now she looked different. Something had changed. When he did find a recognizable feature, Gregory was shocked. “Singing Brook?” An Affirmative nod form the ghost spurred Gregory on, “But you…you’re…dead…”
“I believe we covered this before.”
“I don’t remember.”
“I knew the white man can act foolishly, but surely you’ve heard of spirits visiting those still on earth.”
“Of course I’ve heard of it,” Gregory replied. “But most people don’t believe in ghosts.”
“Do you believe now?” Singing Brook asked.
“I don’t know what to believe…I mean…there you are…sittin’ right there on the same seat as me….but you’re dead….and you look so much younger …and…” Gregory let out a heavy sigh. “For all I know…I’m dreamin’.”
“The spirits often come in dreams.”
“So I am dreamin’.”
“I did not say that.”
“Well, what are ya sayin?”
“Until you believe I am who I say I am, my message will mean nothing.”
Gregory tried very hard to believe what was happening. Yet all he could think was that he must be dreaming. No way could ghosts be real. It just wasn’t plausible. Hadn’t he told children numerous times that there was no such thing as ghosts? Wasn’t that what he believed? Not anymore. If he hadn’t lost her mind everything he always thought true was proven wrong by one simple apparition.
Singing Brook recognized the confusion in the writer’s eyes. He tried to bring everything into terms the man would understand. “Why is it so hard to believe in a spirit? Is it not the same as the faith you have in your god?”
“That’s different,” Gregory remarked.
“How?”
“My god doesn’t come to earth with messages.”
“Perhaps that is what spirits are for.”
Gregory considered this and realized how very true it was. Knowing Gregory could accept her as a spirit and not just a phantom face he had seen in a window, Singing Brook went on with her message. “I’m here because you have been doubting your love for Little Deer…and her love for you,” she began. “There is much to fear. Another seeks Little Deer’s hand. If you do not hurry, it will be too late.”
Singing Brook’s image began to fade into the night air. “Wait!” Gregory cried. “What do you mean? Does she fell the same way I do? What am I supposed to do?? Wh….”
“That is all I know…and all I can say…” With these words Singing Brook faded away completely.
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