Blue Child --

BLUE CHILD

The American fascinated me. He looked and acted so different from the men of my country who forever treat me like I am unworthy of anything but the possibility of bearing them healthy sons. That first day when Frank Hopkins came to my father’s tent he stood respectfully when I entered the room. My father tells him to ignore me and sends me away. I am only a lowly woman, not worthy of notice.

I know my father loves me—but his unwitting words rip at my heart, tear at my very soul. He will give me away to some man soon, one whom I most likely will not have ever seen before, much less love. But those are our ways.

Until today I have had no desire for a man, yet I desire to know this Frank Hopkins. A man who seems to deem me worthy at least of notice. I am drawn to him like a moth to a flame……


How could I have been so foolish as to go to the American’s tent? It is my fault that my father is threatening to remove his manhood. We did nothing wrong. All we did was talk, but in my country even that was wrong. I was in a man’s tent without chaperone. While there with him I sensed his divided loyalties, and we talked of the conflict he is caught in the middle of. The ways of his mothers people against the ways of his father. The only certainty is his love for Hidalgo. “COWBOY’ as my people call him only thought to protect me. They came looking for me and when they burst in he fell on top of me not to defile me but to protect me, a mere woman with his own life. They have taken him to Father for our people’s justice. Despite my pleas, my father remains firm, chastising me for speaking out in front other men.

There is shouting outside, raiders are attacking the camp and I am taken hostage for a ransom. The ransom being my father’s prize stallion. And my father’s horses are valued above all else…..


It is Frank Hopkins who comes to rescue me (in exchange for keeping his manhood) and we escape into the desert on Hidalgo. My beloved bodyguard was killed in the rescue attempt. The cowboy tries to comfort me in my grief over the one who swore service to me since the moment of my birth. I meet Frank’s eyes, he seems somewhat timid, almost shy as he asks to see my face. I slowly draw the veil down away from my face. I hold my breath, hoping he not displeased. Sensing my self-consciousness—for in all my life he is the only man who has seen my face except for my father or family—he smiles, his eyes telling me how beautiful he finds me. He smiles, reaching out and skimming his fingertips across my cheek. For the first time and probably the last someone is actually looking at me. Actually seeing me. It is like he can see all the way to my soul.

And I see his as well. We know nothing can come of this, but still he presses a kiss into my hand and then lowered his head to touch his lips to mine. We had to know. The kiss was brief, the merest touch but it was a moment I would always remember. We both felt the spark. He pulled back from the kiss to look into my eyes again, his hand caressing my cheek. I knew he wanted more just as well as he knew I would willingly give it to him. But if nothing else, Frank Hopkins was practical. Nothing could come of this so why risk it?

“Jazira,” he whispered, his voice caressing my name.“We must stop.”

I knew he was right, but it wasn’t fair because I knew in that moment that I had fallen in love with Frank Hopkins. And that love was absolutely forbidden. Even what we’d just done would be grounds for his execution and that could not be allowed to happen either.

It was the hottest part of the day. We erected a tent-like shelter to avoid the extreme midday heat. It is a day I will remember always. The kiss had been filed away as a pleasant memory, we were determined not dwell on it. I instead reveled in the other miracle. That for one day I was able to speak freely about whatever I willed in man’s presence. And it was with the man that I had fallen in love with. A man who actually valued what I had to say. We talked the afternoon away about his mother’s people and his Indian name.

The afternoon sun was sinking lower in the sky, the temperature cooling considerably when we finally rode back into the camps of my father. My father comes out to greet us. I am safely returned and The race can finally resume…..

It is the last day of the race, they are expected at any moment. First one rider, then another,--my heart pounds furiously as people cheer to the announcement “COWBOY IS COMING!

Hidalgo crossed the finish line just ahead of my father’s prize stallion. Running all the way to ocean. My cowboy has not only survived the ocean of fire but has won the race. My heart is full of joy for him.

My people applaud and praise him. While he, is still considered an outsider, this cowboy has won my father’s respect. My father even invites him to stay. But I know that he has other obligations that he takes very seriously and I know that even though I will never see him again after he leaves that I could never ask him to go against what his heart tells him is right……


We somehow find a moment alone to say our goodbyes. We do not speak of what we feel but read the feelings we have for each other in each others eyes. We talk around our feelings discussing how cowboys ride off into the sunset in the stories that my father devours. We read between lines trying to prolong the inevitable until it is too painful to bear. He smiles at me then turns and walks away.

Despite my breaking heart I am happy for him. Somewhere out there in the Ocean of Fire, my cowboy has found his peace. His internal conflicts have been resolved. I watch as my love walks away from me and out my life forever.

His name is Frank Hopkins. To my people he is Cowboy. But I know better, for in his heart and mine we know the truth.

He is Blue Child and my heart is his.