Lakota Flower (13 page)

War Eagle leapt off his horse and asked his friends to tend it for him while he went to check on Chumani’s condition, promising to return soon and help them skin and butcher the animal. As he hurried in that direction, he truly was concerned about his brother’s wife and unborn child, but he also wanted to learn what Caroline had been doing there.

War Eagle was stunned to discover what had taken place during his absence. His heart and mind filled with pride, elation, and astonishment as he listened to the stirring tale of Caroline’s deed. He was surprised and overjoyed when his family thanked him for capturing her, for not taking her away, and for the Great Spirit guiding him to her on the grasslands. He looked at the newborn girl, bundled securely so that all he could see was her face with ample cheeks. He
glanced from Wind Dancer to Chumani to the infant, realizing how happy and fulfilled the couple was. The sight flooded him with yearnings for his own wife and child and tepee. Yes, he wanted those precious things … but with a forbidden woman, a white female whom he could no longer deny that he loved and craved beyond measure…

After the short visit and as he departed to return to his friends and their task, War Eagle wondered if he should go to Cloud Chaser’s tepee and thank Caroline, as he was tempted to do. Just to look upon her up close, to hear her voice, to see her smile, to let her know he was not a cruel enemy would be nourishing to his spirit. As his gaze touched on a watchful Two Feathers, he decided a visit was unwise. Yet, he vowed he would find a private time and place to speak his gratitude to her, perhaps even find a cunning way to capture another kiss…

Nahemana returned to camp on the third day after his departure and sought out Two Feathers upon arrival. He asked the young man to walk with him in the cool forest so they could speak in private. The son of the chief’s sister obeyed him as expected and required by their law. Nahemana took a seat on a large rock and motioned for the warrior to take the smaller one beside it, compelling Two Feathers to look up at him. The shaman glanced skyward, closed his age-clouded eyes, repositioned his aching body, and took a deep breath.

“Why do you seek me out on this sun, Wise One?” Two Feathers asked. “What evokes your delay in speaking? Did the Great Spirit give you a message for me?”

Nahemana locked his gaze with the other man. “Yes, firstborn son of Pretty Meadow and Runs Fast, Wakantanka showed many things to me and sent a sacred owl to whisper in my ear while I fasted, prayed, and chanted. You have lived for twenty-two circles of the seasons upon the face of Mother Earth. You have become a Sacred Bow Carrier and a
Strong Heart member. You have battled and slain many enemies, gathered many coups, protected your family, and provided much game and possessions for them. The Creator has blessed and protected you in many ways. Why do you seek to cause trouble among our people in a season of conflict and coming war?”

Two Feathers gaped at the shaman. “What do your words mean?”

“When Cloud Chaser returned to us during the last hot season, you battled his acceptance fiercely and with much hatred. After he proved himself to us with great prowess and by risking his life many times, you agreed to make a truce with him, to have peace among all members of our past chief’s bloodline. You do not honor the ways of your grandfather, Ghost Warrior, who now lives with the Great Spirit. You show disrespect to his son, our chief, your mother’s brother. That is wrong; it is bad; it must halt.”

“How do I do such things, Wise One? What did Wakantanka say?”

“Once more, you seek to shame and injure Cloud Chaser. You pull War Eagle into your quarrel with the second son of our chief, grandsons of Ghost Warrior, creations of Wakantanka. He and the spirit of Ghost Warrior are displeased; they worry your bad feelings will bring conflict among us at a time when we must band together tight and strong to defeat our enemies. You must cease distracting War Eagle from his duty as a Sacred Bow Carrier. You must halt distracting Cloud Chaser and Wind Dancer from their ranks of Strong Hearts. You must stop seeking the white captive in trade, for the Great Spirit placed her among us for a good purpose, one that cannot be fulfilled in your tepee. You must cleanse yourself of such weakness.”

Two Feathers was angered by the scolding and suspected the old man spoke from what the sons of Rising Bear had told him, and not from what he had seen in vision. He was convinced no message had been sent to him by Wakantanka
or Ghost Warrior’s spirit. Yet, he could not, must not, call the shaman a false speaker, as all others believed he spoke the truth at all times, so he remained silent and watchful, and consumed by ire.

“I am weak and tired from my vision quest and journey. I must go to my tepee and rest. Remember my words and obey them.”

“I hear your words and I will do what is right and good, Nahemana,”
but what I think is right and good for me.
Two Feathers watched the slump-shouldered man rise and depart with difficulty, using a walking stick cut and carved for him by Wind Dancer. The vexed warrior scowled to himself, displeased by this turn of events, this intrusion on his life by their shaman who was blinded by his grandsons and a half-breed. Just as Cloud Chaser had intruded on his plans last summer when he stole Macha from him, and when he tricked Wind Dancer and War Eagle into turning against him!

If only his mother had been born a man and born first or he had come from the seed of Rising Bear, Two Feathers fretted, he would be the chief’s son and be next in line to become the Red Shield leader, a rank he craved. Rising Bear did not deserve to hold the highest rank in their band, for he had shamed himself with a white woman—a captive—long ago; Cloud Chaser was proof and a constant reminder of that weakness and evil.

My love and respect for our chief was slain long ago when he dishonored himself When Rising Bear leaves Mother Earth, if Wind Dancer falls to an enemy’s blow and War Eagle shames himself with his new white captive, I will be next in line as Ghost Warrior’s grandson to become chief, for Cloud Chaser’s tainted blood will not allow him to tie on that bonnet. I will be the one to lead our people against the enemy and defeat them. I must not allow Nahemana’s false words to kill my dream. But I will not ask to trade for the white girl again. I will let her ensnare War Eagle in a trap for me. Then, Wind Dancer will live no more, just as my first
mate lives no more to trouble me. I will become chief; that is my true destiny.

Nahemana went to the chief’s tepee to meet with Rising Bear, Wind Dancer, Cloud Chaser, and War Eagle to reveal his talk with Two Feathers and his shocking vision. Later, he would relate that message to the council.

After the five men gathered there, the shaman was told of the child’s difficult birth and of how Caroline had saved them with “big medicine and magic.”

“It is good the Great Spirit sent her to us to carry out such deeds,” he said. “If He had not guided you to her and you had not obeyed His commands to capture her and to keep her among us, War Eagle, you, Dewdrops, and the baby could be dead on this sun and many would be mourning our losses. The Creator often works in mysterious ways to protect His loved ones. Did more happen while I was on the sacred hills seeking His guidance?”

“There is nothing more to reveal to you. Tell us of your vision, Wise One,” Rising Bear coaxed as he perceived deep concern and even hesitation in his wife’s father. What, he worried, had the shaman been shown that was so alarming that he dreaded to reveal it?

Nahemana looked at the anxious chief, nodded, and said, “I saw a scene of great destruction and suffering,
Zintkatogleglega
clad in their finest blue feathers chased and encircled a large flock of
Ihuhaotila,
but the enemy’s shouts were not as that bird’s call; they were shouts of hatred and scorn and revenge. The
Ihuhaotila
tried to flee them, but the jays were too many and too strong, eager to swoop down on the brown-clad sparrows and slay them. The birds changed into bluecoats and Lakotas, and a fierce battle followed. Soon, many Lakotas lay dead or badly wounded. Mother Earth cried as she drank their blood, for it tasted bitter in her mouth. The grass and rocks were painted red with it against their wills, and the blades hung their heads in sadness and shame. I heard many death chants from warriors who were entrapped by countless enemies, their quivers empty of arrows, their lances and knives and war clubs useless against the bluecoats’ long firesticks and big thundersticks. I heard women wailing for their losses, and children crying in pain and fear while the jays sang in victory.”

“What does the vision mean, Wise One?” Rising Bear asked in dread.

Nahemana shook his head. “I do not know why I was shown such a fierce event, for I saw no Red Shields among them.”

“That is good, is it not, Grandfather?” Wind Dancer asked.

Although he knew what his grandson meant, the shaman said in a gentle tone, “I do not know, but the death of any Lakota is bad.”

Wind Dancer concurred, “That is true, Grandfather. Does the vision mean Red Shields must not battle the soldiers or we will die as they did?”

“That was not revealed to me during this vision quest.”

War Eagle sensed another hesitation and suspected there was more bad news to come, so he asked, “What more did you see, Grandfather?”

As Nahemana’s troubled gaze traveled from man to man, he said, “A betrayer walking among us, but his face and body were not exposed to me. They were concealed beneath a black wolf’s head and flowing hide. He was stalking his prey among us, but his target was kept hidden from my old eyes and ears. I spoke with Two Feather upon my return, but I do not know if he is or will become that cunning enemy.” The shaman went on to relate that conversation and his impressions of their baffling family member.

“Do you think my cousin spoke false to you, Grandfather?”

“Yes, Wind Dancer, for some evil clouds his eyes and mind this season. Though its source was hidden as an underground stream, I felt anger flowing beneath his surface, and he doubted my words. He said he would ‘do what is right and good,’ but I fear he does not know or accept what is truly honest and pure. I fear that a powerful dark force lives within him; it troubles and misguides his spirit. If he does not resist and slay it, he will be consumed and destroyed, and others may become ensnared in that battle.”

Rising Bear said, “That will injure my sister’s heart and stain his family’s honor, so we must pray to Wakantanka to clear his eyes and mind.”

“That is wise and true, my chief and friend,” Nahemana
agreed. “But first, Two Feathers must be willing to change, to obey the Great Spirit.”

Cloud Chaser said, “I will try to make peace with him once more to avoid trouble among our people. He may not accept my offer, for his hatred of me runs deep and strong, as the underground stream you spoke of.”

Nahemana told him, “If he refuses peace, the Creator will punish him. Obey our laws and ways, Cloud Chaser, and no blame will fall upon you. All will see it is you who lives by the Four Virtues, not Two Feathers.”

After Cloud Chaser nodded and they talked for a while longer, War Eagle asked, “Did the Great Spirit reveal anything about the white captive who saved the lives of my brother’s mate and child and who fought Black Fist with me? Has she fulfilled her purposes for being placed among us? Did Wakantanka say to keep her here or to release her for her good deeds?”

“I was shown and told nothing about her, my grandson. But if the Great Spirit was finished with her, He would have told me to free her.”

War Eagle tried not to expose his elation at that news, as this was too soon to reveal his feelings about her, even to his family. But his mind leapt with joy and excitement that Caroline would remain near him and that she was working her way into his family’s and many of his people’s hearts with her good ways and deeds. He hoped and prayed she would become as acceptable to them as she was to him, as he would approach her that very sun if things were different for and between them. But if that time came, he mused, did he dare to claim her as his mate? What would he have to do and sacrifice if he did so? Would Kawa Cante agree to join with him? Or would it be impossible for a captive to love and accept her captor, a captor whom she had witnessed slaying her people and who must battle them again? And how long would it be before he had answers to those important questions?
I must win you, Heart Flower, for your roots have
spread throughout my body and every part of it loves and desires you.

The day after General William Harney began his march up the North Platte Road, a feast in Chumani’s honor took place in the Red Shield camp which was nestled against their sacred Black Hills for the winter. As was their custom the event was held on the fourth day after a child’s birth and prior to the Naming Ceremony. The three sons of Rising Bear and some of their friends had hunted for fresh game to be served at the celebration. Winona, Macha, Hanmani, Zitkala, Pretty Meadow, Caroline, and other women had roasted and stewed the various meats and prepared other foods and breads to accompany them during the meal.

Chumani, the honored guest, had chatted with the busy women as they carried out their tasks in cheerful efficiency. Both she and the baby were doing fine, and everyone in camp knew the reason why—the white captive’s medicine skills. Many of the people had expressed their gratitude to Caroline for saving their lives, which pleased Chumani greatly.

As the people ate and talked and congratulated the parents and presented the Vision Woman and new mother with gifts, Caroline watched them from a distance at Cloud Chaser’s tepee where she tended Casmu. It was evident to her how close the band and families were and how special children were to them and to the continuance of their bloodlines. Using care not to be obvious, she observed War Eagle with his family, friends, and other band members. Each time she caught him slyly glancing in her direction, sheer delight washed over her. He was a unique and irresistible man. She yearned to be kissed and embraced by him again, countless times, to spend time with him, just talking or taking a stroll. She craved to get to know him better, and for him to do the same with her.

How long, Caroline fretted, would her existence continue in this state of painful denial of her heart’s desire, in this state of not knowing what would happen to her tomorrow or next week or next month or next year? Would she spend the remainder of her life as a captive in Cloud Chaser’s tepee with War Eagle just out of her reach? Would she be forced to watch him court, marry, and have children with another woman, with one of his own kind? How could she endure such anguish and defeat?

Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Caroline; pity never helps anything. Eat the food Hanmani brought to you and study the in-progress lesson you’re viewing. You just might learn something valuable and useful.

As soon as everyone finished eating Caroline watched Cloud Chaser approach her with a grin on his face. She listened in surprise and befuddlement as he told her to join them at the gathering, at Chumani’s and the shaman’s requests. He retrieved Casmu in his cradle-board and guided her to the crowded area where she stood with the chief’s family and next to Chumani. She remained quiet and alert as she observed the giveaway ritual to honor the newborn. Cloud Chaser had told her earlier it was the custom to give various gifts to relatives, friends, the poor, and high-ranking men and women of their band to show honor to their newborn child and as a way of practicing Generosity. She also knew Chumani and Wind Dancer’s family had been making or collecting
wicaku
for months as they awaited the baby’s birth. Sometimes a gift would be a horse, blanket, pouch, prime hide or fur, jewelry, knife sheath, moccasins or garment, headband, or weapons taken from enemies during raids or battles. Before the feast started, she had helped carry and pile the presents on a blanket, and had admired their beauty and quality as she did so.

Last, Chumani turned to Caroline, placed a thong around her neck, smiled, and said in English, “To honor and thank
you, our friend, for saving the lives of Dewdrop and our daughter.” Then, she repeated the words in Lakota for their people to understand.

Murmurs of
“Han”
and
“Heyapi”
filed the air as many agreed or added their gratitude with words of “Yes” and “It is said.” Many even smiled or nodded at Caroline, who returned those kind gestures.

Caroline looked down at the necklace that rested near her heart and touched it in awe. It was a leather medallion with a right hand painted on its center and suspended from a softened leather strip. She had learned that sign language—index and middle fingers touching and lifted with the thumb and the other two curled toward the palm—meant friend and friendship. Near the edges were painted smaller symbols for Dewdrops, Wind Dancer, Red Shields, and a blue eye for her. She looked at Dewdrops, smiled with misty eyes, and said in an emotion-strained voice,
“Pilaymaya,
Chumani.”

“It is good,” the woman replied and smiled once more.

As the family was positioned for the Naming Ceremony, Caroline did not know if she was supposed to leave or stay until the shaman gently grasped her arm and guided her to stand beside Macha, who was next to Cloud Chaser, then Hanmani, then War Eagle, and the others. It had been difficult, but she had conquered the urge to glance at her beloved when she received the gift and when she walked past him moments ago. Yet, she was all too cognizant of his close proximity and almost intoxicating appeal. Just as she was aware of Two Feathers presence not far away. She had glimpsed the offensive man watching her several times today and—from the corner of her eye—as she followed Nahemana to her current position. No doubt he was angered by the honor and attention she had received. She didn’t know why she allowed him to intimidate her so much and so often, as she was safe from his evil clutches under Cloud Chaser’s protection, and surely now under that of his family, which included the chief and shaman. She also didn’t know why she was
being permitted to stand with the head family unless it was because this event would not be taking place if not for her. Still, she was only a lowly captive, one of the enemy. Or was she? … If her role had changed, she had not been informed of it. For now, she must quiet those troubling thoughts and observe the event, even though she could grasp only a word here and there.

In his right hand, Nahemana held a long white feather with snowy tufts attached to its quill and held a thick rock with a hollowed-out center in his left one. Slowly burning herbs and sweet grass in nature’s container sent forth grayish fumes, which were captured by a mild breeze and swirled about as they drifted upward. First, the shaman prayed to evoke the presence of the Supreme Being, Mother Earth, and other good spirits. “Tunkashila, Maka Hun’ku, Woniyawaste, we summon you to watch this sacred ceremony. Tunkashila, we thank You for those who have lived before us and for all they taught those who came after them. We thank You for those to be born on future suns and moons who will carry on our customs and bloodlines, those who will love and serve You after we live at Your side. Those who stand here in Your sight thank You for sending them to walk upon the face of Mother Earth and we thank Her for allowing us to do so. We thank You for your many blessings, guidance, and protection. Hear and watch us on this sun.”

Afterward, he said more prayers as he used the eagle feather to wing smoke—the breath of the Great Spirit—over the infant. “Tunkashila, we thank You for this child who battled hard to enter the world You made for us, and she will be called Inunpa, for she came Second to our chief’s son and mate. We ask You to give her strength, courage, and good skills to serve You, her family, and her people with. Guide her and protect her in all things.”

He wafted smoke into Chumani’s face and said, “Dewdrops, be a good mother to your daughter. Teach her all she must learn to become a good woman and Red Shield.”

Chumani—who was still weak and sore from her ordeal, but filled with joy—smiled and nodded, wishing her parents and grandparents could be there for this special ceremony and happy event, but they were camped far away with their Brule band, as her father was their chief.

Nahemana sidestepped to Waci Tate, used the feather to propel wisps into his face, and said, “Wind Dancer, be a good father to your daughter. Protect her and provide for her needs.”

He approached Rising Bear and Winona, guided smoke into their faces, and said, “Our chief and his mate, be good grandparents to this child.”

Caroline saw the older couple nod that they would do as commanded.

After repeating those actions with War Eagle, Hanmani, Cloud Chaser, and Macha, he told them, “Help Inunpa’s parents and grandparents teach her to be a good Red Shield,” and all four nodded that they would obey.

To all others present, Nahemana commanded, “Family and friends of Wind Dancer and Dewdrops, help them to carry out the Creator’s will.”

Then, to the surprise of some present, the shaman stepped before Caroline, swept grayish wisps into her face, and said, “Tunkashila, we thank You for sending this white woman to live among us. We thank You for showing her how to save Inunpa’s life when she was too weak to enter this world. Open Ca-ro-line’s heart and mind and teach her who and what we are so she will understand and be loyal to us in the dark suns ahead.”

Caroline was relieved she did not cough when the smoke was urged into her face and up her nostrils, as she feared that would be an insult to them and their Great Spirit and would place a dark cloud over her and the ceremony. Tears did dampen her eyes, partly from the smoke and partly from deep emotion, and she hoped everyone blamed the latter if the moisture was sighted. She smiled at the gentle-mannered shaman and nodded, though she only grasped some of his
words. Once more, she told herself she must work harder to learn their language and customs.