Authors: Madeline Baker
Jassy looked up at him, at the tenderness in his eyes. “You’d do that for me?”
“If you want me to.”
“I don’t know. He probably wouldn’t be any happier to see me than your mother would be to see you.”
A faint suspicion rose in Creed’s mind as his gaze swept over Jassy. “Why this sudden interest in my mother and your father?” he asked, frowning.
Jassy shrugged and looked away, but she could feel Creed’s gaze on her face, feel the heat climbing into her cheeks under his intense scrutiny.
“Jassy…” Creed swallowed hard. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”
Hesitantly, she turned to meet his gaze. “Would you mind?”
Suddenly speechless, he could only stare at her. Pregnant! He tried to tell himself it was bad news, that he didn’t want to be a father, that he had no right to bring a child into the world when his life was such a mess, but none of that seemed to matter now. He felt a smile pull at the corners of his mouth, felt a sudden excitement stir in the pit of his stomach.
Springing to his feet, he grabbed Jassy and held her tight. “I think it’s great!” he exclaimed, and lifting her in his arms, he twirled her around and around. The sound of her laughter mingled with his, and then, breathless, he put her down, his hands resting on her shoulders.
“Jassy.” He shook his head, overcome with awe to think that she was carrying a child. His child.
She smiled up at him, her eyes shining with love, and he knew she had never been more beautiful than she was at this moment, with her love shining in her eyes, and a new life growing beneath her heart.
“I was afraid you’d be mad.”
“No.” He tilted her chin up, then lowered his head and kissed her. “I’m not mad. I love you, Jassy.”
“And I love you!” she whispered fervently, and throwing her arms around Creed’s neck, she kissed him with all the love in her heart.
* * * * *
Winter came in a rush of wind and rain. Now that Creed was well again, they had moved into a lodge of their own. Creed had traded his horse to Tasunke Hinzi’s wife, Wakinyela, for enough hides to make a lodge, and then Sunlata, Wakinyela, and a dozen of the women had got together and sewn the hides together for the cover.
Jassy was amazed to find the Lakota lodge stayed warm and snug, even in the midst of a storm. The inner lining kept out drafts and dampness and prevented rain from dripping off the poles. The warm air rising inside the tipi drew in cold air from the outside, which came in under the cover and went up behind the lining, creating a perfect draft for the fire and taking the smoke out with it.
The liner was sometimes referred to as a ‘ghost screen’ because it prevented the casting of shadows from the fire onto the outer wall, thereby providing not only privacy for the family, but safety as well, giving no enemy who might be lurking in the darkness a target to shoot at.
Jassy glanced at the tipi lining. Unlike the lining in Mato Wakuwa’s lodge, which had been covered with drawings that depicted the
shaman’s
exploits in battle, the lining of their lodge was bare.
They had virtually no possessions other than the clothes on their backs, two buffalo robes and two willow-rod backrests, which had been gifts from Sunlata, and a few cooking pots which had been given to them by some of the other women.
Sunlata had told Jassy that, to the Lakota, the tipi was considered a temple as well as a home. The floor of the lodge represented the earth, the walls represented the sky, the poles were the trails from earth to the spirit world. In Sunlata’s lodge, directly behind the firepit, was a little space of bare earth which served as the family altar where sweet grass, cedar, or sage were burned as incense to the spirits.
Sunlata had also told her that the Lakota believed that the incense carried the prayers to
Wakán Tanka
, as did the smoke from a pipe. Before each meal, the host said grace and made an offering of a choice piece of meat, either by placing it in the fire, or burying it in the earth on the altar.
There were definite rules of etiquette for living in a Lakota lodge. If the door flap was open, friends usually felt free to walk right in. If the flap was closed, they called out or rapped on the hide and awaited an invitation to enter. If two sticks were crossed over the tipi door, it meant that the owners were away, or that they wished to be left alone.
As a rule, men sat on the north side of the tipi, and women on the south. On entering a tipi, a man moved to the right, a woman to the left. When possible, it was proper to walk behind anyone who was already seated.
So many things to learn and remember, she mused, and yet, in spite of everything, Jassy had never been happier. Creed was alive and well and they were together, and that was all that mattered.
Among the Sioux, winter was a time of story-telling. Men and women moved from lodge to lodge, visiting and listening in rapt attention as the old ones related the ancient legends and tales.
Jassy learned of
Iya
, who was the chief of all evil. He was personified by the cyclone, and his foul breath brought disease. Lesser gods in the demon group were water sprites, goblins, and monsters.
Iktomi
was known as the Trickster. He was a deposed god, and reminded Jassy of Lucifer, who had been cast out of heaven for rebellion. There were other evil spirits in Lakota legend:
Waziya
, the old man, his wife,
Wakanaka
, the Witch, and their daughter,
Anog-Ite
, the double-faced Woman.
Wakán Tanka
was the chief god, but there were other gods, like
Inyan
, the Rock,
Maka
, the Earth,
Skan
, the Sky, and
Wi
, the Sun, were Superior Gods.
Maka
was the mother of all living things.
Skan
, who was a source of power, sat in judgment on all the other gods.
Wi
was the defender of bravery, fortitude, generosity, and fidelity.
Lesser gods included
Hanwi
, the Moon, and
Tate
, the Wind,
Whope
, who was the daughter of the Sun and the Moon, and
Wakinyan
, the Winged, who was the patron of cleanliness.
Jassy was fascinated by the Lakota religion. Four was a sacred number. There were four corners to the earth, four seasons to a year. There were four Superior Gods, and four Lesser Gods. There were four classes of animals: crawling, flying, four-legged and two-legged. There were parts to all plant life: root, stem, leaves and fruit.
Just as the number four was sacred, so was the circle. The earth, the sun, and the moon are round. The four winds circle the earth; the bodies of animals and the stems of plants are round. Everything in nature, save the rock, is round. So the Lakota lodge was also round.
There were monsters in Lakota lore.
Gnaske
, the Crazy Buffalo, might bring insanity or paralysis. The
Unktehi
captured men and turned them into beasts; the
Nini Watu
were maggots that caused pain and suffering. The
Gica
caused accidents, while
an
Can Oti
made men lose their direction.
Jassy grinned as she thought of the bogeyman her mother had frightened her with. He seemed tame when compared to a monster that could turn you into a beast!
Despite the cold and the snow, Jassy loved spending the winter with the Lakota. There was a freedom to living with the Indians that she had never known before. They ate when they were hungry, slept when they were tired, hunted when it was necessary, played and sang to buoy up their spirits when cold winter winds blew across the plains.
There were no clocks to tell her the time, no highborn ladies to look down on her because her mother had been a whore.
There was only Creed, growing stronger each day. They could spend as much time as they wanted alone in the lodge, just the two of them, snuggled together under a warm buffalo robe. A cozy fire crackled in the firepit, but it was Creed’s arms that kept her warm, that made her feel loved, cherished.
As the days and weeks passed, Jassy picked up more and more of the language. She found she liked living in a Lakota lodge. She liked the comfort and freedom of wearing a loose-fitting doeskin dress and leggings and fur-lined moccasins. She learned to cook over a fire, to skin rabbits and deer.
And each day, she fell more and more in love with Creed. Here, away from civilization, he smiled more, laughed more. Gradually, the hard shell that had surrounded him fell away. Only then did she realize that she hadn’t really known Creed at all until now.
“What would you think about staying here?”
Jassy looked up from the pot of stew she’d been stirring. “What?”
“I asked how you’d feel about staying here. Indefinitely.”
Jassy stared at him for a long moment, her mind racing. Stay here, with the Lakota? Live here? Have the baby here?
Creed was looking at her, waiting for an answer.
“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I love your people, and I love it here, I really do, but…” She placed her hand over her abdomen.
“You’re afraid to have the baby here?”
Jassy nodded.
“The Indians have babies all the time.”
“I know.”
“But?”
“Well, it’s so primitive. I mean, what if something goes wrong, and we need a doctor?”
“Mato Wakuwa is a doctor.”
“He’s a medicine man.”
“It’s the same thing.”
“But, well, what if we needed a hospital?”
“Never mind, Jassy. It was just a thought.”
“You don’t want to leave, do you?”
“No.”
Tears stung Jassy’s eyes. Why did she feel so guilty? It wasn’t that she didn’t love the Indians. She did. But she wanted to be near a real doctor when her time came. She wanted a midwife who spoke English, a doctor if something went wrong. Surely Creed could understand that? This was her first baby, and as much as she wanted it, she couldn’t help being a little afraid.
With a sigh, Creed took Jassy in his arms. “Hey, it’s all right, honey. We’ll go on to Frisco in the spring, like we planned.”
“You’re disappointed in me, aren’t you?”
“No. No.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Don’t ever think that, Jassy.”
He tipped her chin up and smiled into her eyes. “I love you, Jassy.”
“I love you, too.”
“Good.” He gave her an affectionate swat on the rump. “How about some of that stew?”
* * * * *
Gradually, the days grew longer, the weather grew warmer, the snow melted. Creed didn’t say anything else about staying with the Indians, but Jassy felt as though she had failed him somehow.
As spring grew nearer, the village seemed possessed of a growing excitement. It was the thought of the first spring hunt, Creed explained. Though the winter had been mild, it had been weeks since there had been fresh meat in the village. The young men were eager for the hunt. The old ones were anxious for the taste of fresh buffalo hump and tongue.
As soon as the last snow melted, the village packed up and moved.
It was an amazing sight. Warriors mounted on prancing horses. Women talking together as they walked along. Children laughing as they rode the travois ponies. Dogs barking as they raced in and out of the horse herd.
Jassy had never seen anything like it in her whole life. It was like a circus parade. Mounted on a high-stepping bay gelding, she lifted her face to the sun, her heart swelling with love and contentment. Creed rode beside her. Dressed in buckskins, his black hair glinting in the morning sun, he looked like every other warrior. He rode with the same inherent grace and arrogance as the full-blooded Lakota warriors. Tasunke Hinzi had given Creed a bow and a quiver of arrows; Mato Wakuwa had given him a long-legged gray mare.
“Where are we going?” Jassy asked.
“To find the buffalo.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll take you to Frisco, Jassy, I promise. Right after the first hunt.”
She nodded, baffled by her churning emotions. One minute she wanted to stay with the Lakota, the next, she felt as though Creed cared more for Tasunke Hinzi than he did for her—that it meant more to him to stay and go on some silly buffalo hunt than to get her to San Francisco.
These days, it seemed as though she was always on the verge of tears. Her breasts were tender and swollen. She was always tired. Sunlata had told her it was being with child that made her want to laugh one moment and cry the next, and Jassy supposed it was true. But it didn’t make her changeable emotions any easier to live with.
She snapped at Creed for no reason at all, turned him away even though she wanted to be held, to be comforted. She felt fat and ugly one minute, beautiful and cherished the next. She was hungry all the time. And sometimes, at night, she craved the most peculiar things, like dill pickles and watermelon, neither one of which were available in a Lakota encampment.
They’d been trailing the buffalo for about two weeks the night she spilled a bowl of soup.
“Jassy, did you burn yourself?” Creed asked. He reached for her hand, but she jerked it away.
“Leave me alone!”
“Jassy…”
“You heard me, leave me alone!”
He stared at her for a moment, and then, ignoring her objections, he pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “Jassy, it’s all right. Go on, cry if you want to.”
“I don’t want to,” she said, and burst into tears.
He held her and rocked her until there were no tears left, until she sat spent in his arms, her head cradled on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Jassy,” he said quietly. “We’ll leave for Frisco first thing tomorrow.”
* * * * *
As promised, they left the village early the following morning.
Tasunke Hinzi provided them with horses, with food and blankets for their journey.
Jassy felt a twinge of regret as they rode away from the village. Saying goodbye had been harder than she expected. She had come to care for Mato Wakuwa, for Tasunke Hinzi, for Sunlata, and she knew she would probably never see them again.
She couldn’t help feeling guilty for taking Creed away from his people. He had been happy with the Lakota, more at peace with himself than she had ever seen him. And yet, for all that, she wanted to go to San Francisco. She wanted to find Rose. Maybe it had something to do with being pregnant, this need to be among her own people, to find her sister. Whatever the reason, she knew she wouldn’t rest until they found Rose. She needed to know her sister was all right. And even if Rose didn’t want her, she was still the only family Jassy had.
After what had happened on the train, Creed decided they would go cross-country on horseback, avoiding towns and settlements unless they ran out of supplies.
Jassy couldn’t help feeling apprehensive as they lost sight of the Lakota camp. It was just the two of them now, alone on the prairie.
The countryside was beautiful. Spring flowers brightened the hills and hollows. The trees were clothed in leaves of bright green. An ocean of new grass spread as far as the eye could see.
There was wildlife everywhere. Birds sang in the tree tops. They saw spotted fawns hiding in the shelter of the underbrush, and fat bear cubs frolicking near a stream.
Mindful of Jassy’s condition, Creed set a slow, careful pace, pausing often to let her rest.
As the days passed, he hovered over her, making sure she had enough to eat, that she drank plenty of water. In the afternoons, he found a shady place and insisted she nap for at least an hour. When they made camp, he did everything but the cooking.
In spite of the long hours in the saddle and their primitive campsites, Jassy had never felt so loved, or so cosseted, in her life.
She was sitting by their campfire a week later, thinking how lucky she was to have a man like Creed to care for her, when she felt the baby move for the first time. Startled, she gave a little gasp. Immediately, Creed was at her side.
“What is it?” he asked anxiously.
“The baby,” Jassy murmured. “It moved.” She grabbed Creed’s hand and placed it over her belly. “Here, feel.”
Creed shook his head. “I don’t feel anything.”
“Wait.”
A moment later, she felt it again, a faint fluttering, like angel wings.
“Did you feel it that time?” Jassy asked.
Creed nodded, his gaze filled with wonder. He’d known Jassy was pregnant, of course, but until now, the child hadn’t been real. Now, for the first time, he realized there was a living, breathing child growing beneath Jassy’s heart, a child who would need more than just food and shelter. Never had the weight of responsibility felt so heavy. Never had he felt so unprepared, so inadequate.
And then he felt that faint flutter again, and his heart swelled with an emotion he’d never known before. His child, he thought, awed. The living proof of his love for Jassy, and her love for him.
He knew in that moment that he’d never loved her more, that no matter what he did, he’d never be able to repay her for giving him a little piece of immortality.
Moved beyond words, he pulled her into his arms. “I love you,” he murmured. “You know that, don’t you?”
“I know.”
“I’ll try to be a good husband to you, Jassy, a good father to the child.”
“You’re already a good husband,” she replied. “And you’ll be a wonderful father.”
“I hope so.”
“Stop worrying, Creed. We’re in this together, remember?”
“I know, but…” He shook his head. He had hunted outlaws and trailed renegades without a qualm, but the thought of being a father scared him right down to his socks.
“I’ve never been a mother before, either, you know,” Jassy reminded him. “What we don’t know, we’ll learn together.” She laughed softly. “I remember hearing one of the town ladies say that the good Lord gave first babies hard heads and lots of patience because they had greenhorns for parents.”
“I hope she was right,” Creed muttered, “because I’m as green as they come.”
* * * * *
It was a long ride to San Francisco. Even though Creed kept their hours in the saddle to a minimum, the journey was tiring for Jassy. At the end of a day on the trail, her legs were sore, her back ached, and she wanted only to sleep. Creed did all the chores, both morning and evening, and at night, he rubbed her back and shoulders, massaged her feet.
He held her when she cried for no reason, assuring her that everything would be all right.
Occasionally, they made love. He was ever so gentle with her then. His kisses were as fervent as ever, but he held her carefully, as though she might shatter in his hands.
She realized that her pregnancy frightened him, that he was afraid of hurting her, of hurting the baby. She tried to assure him that it was perfectly normal for them to continue to make love, at least for another month or so, but deep down, she, too, was afraid. She knew next to nothing about babies; had never even held one.
What she did remember was hearing her mother discussing childbirth with some of the other soiled doves, recounting in vivid detail the pains of childbirth. The other women had talked of their experiences, too, and then went on to reminisce about friends who had died in childbirth, or spent days in labor only to deliver a stillborn child, or die themselves.
She tried not to think of those things. She was young and healthy. She had never been with any man but Creed. She wasn’t diseased or old. She didn’t drink hard liquor, or smoke cigarettes. She had enough food to eat; she got plenty of rest. Surely she had nothing to fear. Except the pain. Young or old, healthy or infirm, all women agreed that nothing was worse than the pains of childbirth.
“Please, Lord, let us make it safely to San Francisco,” Jassy murmured as they bedded down that night. “Please let my baby be strong and healthy. And thank you, Lord, for Creed…”
He was the one constant in her life, the rock she stood on, the hope she clung to. With Creed beside her, she knew she could endure anything.