Dangerous Dreams: A Novel (74 page)

Emily raised her hand to stop Shines, held a finger over the paste, and asked with her eyes if she could sample it. Shines smiled, nodded at the bowl; Emily scooped up a blob with her index finger; licked a bit, judged the taste; smiled, nodded, licked the remainder from her finger.

Shines widened her perennial smile, reached behind for a rawhide pouch into which she spooned the remainder of the mix before laying it aside and telling Emily it was to be stored until midwinter when fresh food was scarce.

Emily signed, “How long will it keep?”

“Many years.”

“Long time. What is it called?”

“Pemmican.”

Emily said, “Pemmican.”

Shines nodded.

“Good. I shall make much pemmican and show the others how to make it. It tastes good, and I think we will need it.” Not something I’d want every day, she thought, but methinks ’twill be wonderful when ’tis all we have.

“Yes, you
will
need it. It’s usually all we have at the end of winter, except for fish . . . and fish grow tiresome.”

Emily nodded. “Shall we make more? I have all day.”

“Yes, I can help you for a while, but then I must help my mother. You do very well.”

Emily smiled. “Thank you. And tomorrow, will Shines show me how to make the rawhide bags?”

“Yes. I like helping you,” she signed then said, “Em’ly friend.”

Emily smiled, nodded, then said, “And you are
my
friend, Shines.” She stood, checked the strips of meat drying over the fire, then knelt and resumed pounding. An hour later, she sat back on her heels, surveyed the Chesapeake village, and signed, “Shines, where do the Lakota live?”

“In that lodge over there.” She pointed to a different-looking lodge that sat at the edge of the village, not far from the forest. “Do you seek Isna?”

“Uh . . . no . . . well, yes. I haven’t seen him since the hunting party, and . . . and . . . have you seen him today?”

Shines’ smile broadened again. “I saw him this morning but not since then.”

Emily spoke slowly, inquisitively. “Shines . . . may a girl visit a warrior at his lodge?”

“No. It is not done.” She giggled like a little girl with a secret. “But you are not Chesapeake . . . so you may do as you wish.”

Emily smiled. “Hmm. ’Tis true.” She thought for a moment. “But ’twould be bad manners for my people, as well . . . but then . . . mayhap I don’t care.” She looked at Shines, smirked impishly.

Shines laughed again. “ Em’ly will do as Em’ly wishes.”

An hour later, Shines went off to help her mother, but Emily continued making pemmican and flashing frequent glances both at the Lakota lodge and around the village in the hope of seeing Isna. When the sun neared the treetops, she collected the remaining meat, berries, and fat and placed
them at the door of Shines’ lodge. She gathered her pouches of pemmican, stuffed them into a large canvas bag, and started toward the colony. As she passed the last Chesapeake lodge, she stopped. I must see him. She turned around, walked to Isna’s lodge; stopped in front, hesitated, looked around to see if anyone was watching; took a deep breath, extended her hand, scratched on the door, as was the protocol. She waited for a long, anxious moment, sighed, then turned to leave but immediately ploughed into Isna who stood directly behind her. “Oh . . . Isna! Emily . . . Emily was looking for—”

“Isna is here.” His wry smile appeared.

“Emily . . . Emily has not seen Isna for a while . . . she . . . she wanted to see him again.”

“As Isna has wanted to see Emily.”

She smiled excitedly. “Emily has practiced her Lakota words . . . but she must still use a few signs to—”

He nodded, grinned proudly. “Isna sees this is so and that Emily will now sign only when she does not understand a word.” His eyes suddenly softened. “Emily, Isna heard of Emily’s little one.” He reached out, held his hands on her cheeks. “Isna does not know how Emily’s people grieve, but Emily will perhaps know that Isna’s heart suffers with her. The loss of an innocent little one is the greatest of all losses.”

Her eyes misted. She dipped her head once. “It has been difficult; but he is now with God, Wakan Tanka, and will be spared the troubles and pain of this world. And Emily has shed her tears and is ready to continue her life.” She smiled weakly.

He nodded. “It is said tears of grief purge sorrow from the soul and strengthen it. Isna believes this to be so.”

“It
is
so, Isna. Emily
knows
it is so.”

He smiled. “Will Emily walk with Isna?”

Her smile deepened shamelessly. “She will.” She laid her pemmican bags on the ground then walked with Isna toward the forest.

When they had walked a short way into the forest, they stopped, sat on a bed of leaves, looked at one another in silence. The sparkle in Emily’s eyes suddenly yielded to an uneasy, concerned look. “Isna . . . Emily heard
of the fight with the Powhatans.” She paused to allow the anxious quaver in her voice to subside. “Even though it has passed, it frightens Emily that Isna did what he did. He could have been killed.”

He grasped her shoulders. “Isna
would
have been killed had he not fought. A warrior does not run like a scared rabbit to be caught from behind by the fox.” He shook his head. “A warrior must die a warrior’s death . . . or die of old age; and of those two, Isna will prefer the warrior’s death.”

She shook her head. “Oh, Isna . . .”

“Would Emily respect Isna if he died running from an enemy?”

She looked at the ground. I hate this . . . damnable pride, total disregard for his life. “Emily would have Isna alive under any condition.”

“It cannot be so with a Lakota warrior. Perhaps with other peoples, like these Powhatans, who fight only when they have greater numbers, but not with the Lakota. And Isna is Lakota.”

She swallowed hard, looked into his eyes. “Yes, it is so. Emily understands this . . . but Isna should know that this is difficult for Emily . . . that it scares her . . . for she knows Isna will do this many more times . . . and that she must accept it.”

“Emily, Lakota warriors live by four virtues; bravery is the first and most important.”

“What are the others?”

“Fortitude, generosity, and wisdom. No man masters all of them, but most strive to do so. Wisdom is most elusive—like the clever creature that always evades capture—and very few acquire it. But without bravery, nothing else matters, for the people will not be protected, and all will die. So every warrior will give his life to defend the people.”

She looked at him glumly, silently. “Is Isna ever afraid?”

“All beings are sometimes afraid, just as all beings sometimes grieve . . . and it is these things—fear and grief—that make us whole. We cannot be so without them . . . bravery is meaningless without fear . . . as is inner strength without grief.”

She pondered his words for a moment, nodded. “Emily sees that this is so . . . and are there virtues for Lakota
women
?”

“Yes. They are bravery, generosity, truthfulness, and childbearing. But there is also an unspoken virtue.”

“What is it?”

“Lakota women will obey their husbands in all things.”

“
All
things?” She flashed an indignant look.

He nodded but looked confused by her reaction.

“Emily does not think she could live
that
virtue.”

“Emily, Lakota men provide for and protect the people against all threats—enemies, creatures that walk the earth, the weather that descends from the sky. But women must
be
protected. So, since men are the protectors,
they
decide all matters. But remember, Lakota men respect and honor their women, seek and consider their counsel before making decisions . . . at least in matters other than hunting and war.”

Emily’s cheeks flushed, but a hint of a smile appeared as she recalled her mother’s words of a year before.

Always let your man think he’s in charge. ’Tis easier that way. But ’tis we women who truly decide the direction of things through our influence
.

It must be the same with Lakota women, she thought. “Emily understands this. In truth, ’tis no different from our ways.”

He nodded. “Do Emily’s people have virtues?”

“Yes. They’re called the Ten Commandments, and they came to us from God, Wakan Tanka, himself, but they’re the same for men and women.”

“Are they of equal importance?”

“No. The most important is to love Wakan Tanka above all things and worship none but Him; and the second greatest is to love others as yourself, including your enemies.”

“How can this be done?”

“ ’Tis very difficult, but it is a very important part of that commandment.”

“Perhaps many ignore this part?”

Emily smiled. “They do.”

“And will the people obey the other virtues?”

“Sometimes yes and sometimes no. Most try to honor their parents and not steal or kill or lie, but two other virtues—to not desire the possessions of another and to not desire the wife or husband of another—are more difficult for people to keep.”

He nodded. “Hmm. It is the same with the Lakota. And such wanting is thought to be a sickness that will destroy the people if those afflicted by it are not quickly banished or killed.”

“That is sometimes true with us, as well.” She looked away, pondered for a moment, then faced him. “Another important commandment is to not commit adultery.”

“What is this?”

Emily blushed. “It . . . it is what . . . what a man and a woman do to make a baby . . . but with someone other than the one to whom they are married . . . or . . . or
before
they are married.” An involuntary surge of carnal warmth flooded her body but was immediately followed by a wave of guilt.

He stared at her intently. “The Lakota also believe a man and a woman are to be married before they make a baby, and they are to do so only with the one they are married to. But it is not always so.”

“ ’Tis the same for us.” She felt her cheeks warming, looked away for an instant, wondered how they could be discussing such matters; she felt a tantalizing twinge of curiosity, a closeness, a sense of belonging with him. Then suddenly, for no reason, she remembered her strange dream. “Has Isna ever seen a large brown bear?” She spread her arms wide apart. “A
very
large brown bear, larger than five or six deer?”

Wry smile. “Yes . . . these bears roam the grasslands toward the setting sun from our land . . . and at a certain time, one also roamed in Isna’s dreams.”

“In his dreams?”

“Yes. Why does Emily ask this?”

“Because . . . because Emily had a dream about such a bear. He walked with a little white fawn and seemed to be protecting it.”

Isna’s smile vanished; his eyes queried hers with sudden awe. “ Isna had such a dream . . . many summers ago, when he undertook his vision quest as a boy becoming a man.”

“Vision quest?”

“Yes. Each boy, when he and the seer think he is ready to become a man, prays to Wakan Tanka for a vision that tells him what he is to be and what his spirit creature is. This praying is called crying for a vision and is undertaken with the help of the seer, who knows the holy ways. It can go on for several days, without food or water. The crying is then followed by more praying in a small shelter made of twelve or sixteen willow branches covered by hides, in which the boy sits, often for several more days, with hot, steamy rocks and his pipe while he contemplates his inner self, asks Wakan Tanka to purify and cleanse him of all worldly influence, so he may receive his vision. He offers his pipe to each of the four directions, the sky, and Mother Earth, and adds a pinch of kinnikinnick tobacco for each. The pipe is then sealed with animal fat until after the vision quest. The young man goes alone with his pipe and without clothing, food, or water and sits and stands on a rock ledge on high ground far away from the camp for three days and nights by himself, shunning sleep. And during this time, he disregards his bodily wants, prays to Wakan Tanka, all the creatures of the earth and sky, and the spirits of his grandfathers to send his vision, and he listens to and speaks with all creatures and spirits who wish to tell him something.”

“What does he think about?”

“Isna thought of his father and grandfathers and the things they taught him as a child and young man: the languages spoken by all the winged and four-legged creatures, the signs they leave with Mother Earth, their habits, how they hunt; the disguises used by creatures to conceal themselves from enemies and prey; how to read the signs of the sky and Mother Earth; how to suck on a cold stone to keep his side from aching when running; how much water to drink before sleeping, so the need to urinate might wake him at a certain time; the ways and beliefs of Lakota enemies, how they think and fight; how to make and use weapons; how to confuse and conquer an enemy by being unpredictable; and many more things, including those taught by Isna’s mother. All these things hovered like a bird in Isna’s mind for three days and nights of praying to Wakan Tanka for his vision; and finally, on the third night, it came.”

“The large bear?”

“Yes. This bear is called Grizzly, the
Four-Legged-Warrior
, and he is the most feared creature on Mother Earth . . . even more so than man himself, for he knows not fear and is known by all as the killer of all enemies. He came to Isna and told him he would be his spirit creature and that he would allow him to possess his powers—his ferociousness in defending all who need his protection, his kindness and gentleness to those he loves—but he said Isna could only obtain these powers by finding Grizzly himself on the plains and taking his life and his spirit with his hands and bringing them both inside his own.”

Emily’s eyes were wide, an intense blue like the late afternoon sky; her lips parted in wonder.

“He then told Isna to wear his token—his claws—in battle, that he would protect him, and that Isna was to paint his face and shield with Grizzly’s symbols and the symbols of his vision. He told Isna to travel Mother Earth and that one day a little white girl fawn would come and that Isna was to honor her and protect her from all danger for all of his life. And many brown and white fawns then appeared and followed the bear and the little white fawn for a while; but then they went off in different directions on their own until finally, everything vanished except for one brown fawn that turned into an old woman who wore two black stones around her neck and held Isna’s vision pipe. But then a little white girl fawn appeared beside the old woman, and she placed her hand on its head; and a moment later, the old woman, along with the two black stones and Isna’s pipe, vanished, leaving only the little white fawn. And suddenly, the fawn grew into a mother blacktail with a little white girl fawn of her own; and then the two black stones and the pipe suddenly appeared around the last little white fawn’s neck, and Isna awoke. He then climbed off the ledge, returned to the village, told the seer what he’d seen, and smoked the pipe with him; but the seer could not explain any of the fawns or the old woman with the two black stones and Isna’s vision pipe. So Isna yet waits for that knowledge to be revealed to him.”