Lakota Dawn (11 page)

“Fear squirmed within me as a snake trying to find a place to strike and slay me, but it was fear for the safety of my beloved husband and friends and a dread of failing in my sacred tasks. I believed the Great Spirit was guiding and protecting us and had sent others to help us. Perhaps in the dark suns ahead, He will send them to us again as helpers.”

Chase remembered what the Whites would call myths or legends, but he believed life contained many inexplicable mysteries and powers. He had heard the story of the beautiful White Buffalo Maiden, Pte Skawin, who had come to the Dakotas long ago to give them their Seven Sacred Ceremonies and other rituals and the Prayer Pipe. He knew the story of their creation and the Great Flood which had cleansed the world of evil and then been repopulated by The Chosen Ones: a great chief and a brave maiden, which reminded him of the Biblical flood with Noah and the union of Adam and Eve. He had not forgotten
the tale about the Old Woman who quilled daily on a buffalo hide, whose work was unraveled by her wolf-dog companion when she went to add wood to her fire and stir her soup; for if she ever completed her task, the Dakota World would end.

He looked forward to meeting the best friends who had ridden with them: Red Feather and Zitkala. “The Creator gave you many skills and much wisdom, Dewdrops, and you used them with great cunning and courage at my brother’s side when you defeated the enemies. When I find a mate, I hope she possesses your many good traits.”
And I’m sure Dawn does.

“I thank you for your kind words, Cloud Chaser, but both enemies—the Crow and Whites—seek to strike at us again. Peace often is as short as the night flower’s life. Yet, while it blooms, it gives much beauty and joy.”

When his brother began speaking, Chase had to halt his mind from racing back in time to his first meeting with Macha, who had been gathering night-blooming flowers, so he could listen to Wind Dancer’s words.

“My wife speaks with much truth. With the death of Broken Hand Fitzpatrick, more conflicts will arise with our White and Indian enemies. The new agent does not think and act like Broken Hand, for Thomas Twiss does not know us as Fitzpatrick did. Already Spotted Tail and Little Thunder and other Brule chiefs challenge the Bluecoats and settlers, and all Lakotas are held to blame. The treaty will not halt either side from taking or doing as they desire, for all desire the same land and its gifts.”

War Eagle took over when Wind Dancer grew silent. “The Bluecoats put up many forts on Lakota hunting grounds and on those of our allies and our enemies. The settlers do the same with trading posts to supply their people and to buy furs from Indians. During the last hot season, those called Mormons chased Bridger from his trading post on the Green River for selling and trading powder and lead balls to Indians for hunting and raiding, for those strange Whites said Indians used those weapons to attack their people and other settlers. The largest and most powerful are called Fort Laramie and Fort Kearny. We were told our enemies the Pawnee sold the Whites land at
the Platte River for Fort Kearny, but the Pawnee did not own that area; all land belongs to the Great Spirit for the use of His people and animals. The Bluecoats say forts are to protect peaceful tribes from enemy attacks and to protect the settlers who travel the path called the Oregon Trail. That is the path you journeyed?”

“That is true, my brother, but it is a long and dangerous one. Oregon is not like the Plains. It has many rivers, trees, and mountains. Its mouth touches great waters I could not see beyond. Many forts and trading posts sit along the trail to far away, but reaching the next one is long and hard, and many settlers cannot continue and many die or are injured. We saw markers where many were buried, dwellings where some halted and stayed, bones of their animals, and discarded possessions, for many wagons were too heavy to cross such high and steep mountains or animals became too weary to pull them, and some were slain for food. Evil white men and hostile Indians attacked and robbed some on the fringes. Strange illnesses assailed them, but Lucy Martin kept me safe. When supplies ran low, she made sure I was fed before she ate; and sometimes she went without food so I could have hers to get strong enough to heal.”

“Why did the settlers endure such hardships to find new land?”

“To be free, Dewdrops, and to have land to call their own, for Whites put up their abodes and live in one place in all seasons. There are many troubles between the Whites in the land where the sun rises. Many have nothing: few garments and little food. To live in the Sunrise Land is like…” Chase paused to come up with a way to explain the North/South conflict which many Americans felt would lead to a great war one day. “It is like being a slave to the Crow or Pawnee, and they seek to escape far away where they can be safe and happy. But some Whites go to the land where the Sun sleeps to…”
How do I explain, to get rich?
“To gather many coups and possessions, for they are greedy and selfish. They are bad even to their own kind, for their hearts are evil. Their lives and customs are different from ours, and I lack the words in our
tongue to reveal such things to you, for if you have not experienced what I have, you will not understand.”

“That is why we cannot live in peace together,” War Eagle asserted, “for we are too different and we must be enemies.”

“Not all Whites are evil, my brother,” Chase refuted in a gentle tone. “The Martins were good people who only wanted freedom, joy, and a way to live off of the land. They taught me to farm, and gave me my horse Red.” He told them how the Martins had earned and saved money until they had enough to purchase the animal as a gift to him, and explained how the Whites celebrated the day one was born each year. “Do you remember when your mother was stolen by the Pawnee and you believed she was lost to you forever?” he asked Wind Dancer, who nodded.

“My mother Omaste took care of you and loved you as if you were her son. You told me you came to love, trust, and accept her as a second mother until Winona’s return. I felt the same about Lucy Martin. I became Chase Martin, her son in all ways but blood. But in my heart, I was sad and lonely for my father, brothers, and sister; it pained me to think my family and people were dead, lost to me forever, just as your heart and mind were attacked when you lost your first son. It was filled with happiness when I was told my people still lived, and I was eager to return to them. I was reared by Whites, my brothers, but I did not become one in heart and spirit. After Tom Martin died and I learned the truth, I could not leave unprotected the woman who had made me her son. Was it wrong to be kind, generous, and forgiving to an old one who loved and needed me? If so, I am guilty of those deeds and mistakes. I will do what you say to purify myself to regain my honor and place here.”

“Only the Great Spirit can answer your question and make a path for your return to us,” Wind Dancer said. “Wait to learn if He does so.”

Chumani had observed the three men during their long talk and had come to like, respect, and trust Cloud Chaser, and to enjoy his company. Yet, his fate was not in her hands. Certain her husband could use a reprieve from the arduous meeting,
she stood and smiled. “The storm has passed. I will go fetch water and wood and do other chores. Do not forget, my husband, you must go to speak with Red Feather. Cloud Chaser can return to his camping place until we leave on the new sun.”

Wind Dancer told his cunning and thoughtful wife, “I will take Tokapa with me while you do your tasks, for he is restless and needs to run about to calm himself before he rests.” To War Eagle he said, “You must meet with the Sacred Bow Carriers to be certain all plans are made for our journey on the next sun, for many dangers may strike at us along the way.” To Chase he said, “Go to your camping place and prepare yourself for our long ride. I will come for you at first light.”

Chase comprehended he was being dismissed by the kindhearted Chumani and did not resent her for rescuing her beloved husband from what she must sense was a difficult conversation. He smiled. “Dewdrops speaks wise; there is much to do before the Red Shields ride on the next sun. I will return to my camp while you tend your chores. My heart sings with gratitude and joy for this time we have shared.”

“It is good to learn more about each other,” Wind Dancer replied, “but that path cannot be walked too fast when so much is at stake.”

As he returned to his old campsite, Chase couldn’t help but wonder if anything had changed with their visit, and hoped it had, for the better. For certain, he would have his answer soon…

With his new solitary campsite ready for use, Chase gazed at the nearby meandering Cheyenne River—called “Water Good,” Wakpawaste, by the Indians—and then toward where he knew the Badlands, Makosica—an enormous sunken area with picturesque and rugged rocky spires, gorges, steep cliffs, entrapping pathways, and secret waterholes—were located. It was known to the Lakotas as “the jumping-off place,” for the lush grassland halted abruptly and a sheer dropoff appeared as if from nowhere, the contrast in terrains and colors as diverse as a verdant meadow to a barren desert and a dark night to a sunny day. Before the coming of the horse long ago, “the edge of the world” and other similar places had been used during annual hunts when buffalo were stampeded off such precipices by braves afoot, and their women waited in the canyons below to butcher the fallen carcasses and haul the meat and hides home using dog-pulled travois.

Chase remembered how he, too, had roamed the Badlands with his father and brothers before he had been taken to Oregon. Those few outings were still vivid within his mind. Also vivid was the recollection of the time Two Feathers had lured him into a section where he had gotten lost in a maze of narrow passages with sides too steep to climb and his spiteful cousin
had brushed away his retreating tracks so the “little half-breed” could not find his way back to camp. Later, when he had been found and rescued by Wind Dancer, Two Feathers had sworn it had only been a game and he had become confused and could not locate him. Not wanting to be a tattler, Chase had not exposed his cousin’s dark mischief. Perhaps he should have told the truth.

After traveling for over five days from the heavily forested Paha Sapa, the Red Shields were erecting their first summer village in the customary ever-widening circular pattern near the southern flow of the Cheyenne River and just northwest of the Badlands. Many trees and scrubs along the riverbank would provide shade and ample water for people and animals as needed, and wood for campfires, along with dried buffalo chips. The location chosen by the Council was mainly flat, though rolling hills were located nearby in three directions, and was covered by thick and windswept grass, scattered wildflowers, occasional trees and bushes, and various forms of wildlife.

The journey had gone well, to Chase’s relief. Yet, he scolded himself for several brief and selfish nibblings of disappointment that he hadn’t been given a single chance to provide aid and display his prowess during times of danger. Along the way, he had camped near the fringe of the sprawling group. Only Hanmani had ventured close to him; and her visits were short while delivering his food, for nothing could be concealed in such openness. He knew others studied him with curiosity, but everyone took hints for their behavior toward him from their chief and stayed away.

It made him feel lonely to be so close in body to his family and people, but so far away in spirit and acceptance. Yet, he couldn’t blame the Red Shields; even if most of them remembered him as a child, surely it was as if he were a stranger to them now, and a man whose White half and rearing could not be ignored.

As the people worked with familiar assignments and efficiency, Chase watched women put up tepees, unload their possessions and haul them inside, build rock-enclosed campfires, position three-legged stands over them for kettles, fetch fresh
water, and put evening meals on to cook. He saw men tending horses and setting up their weapons stands, erecting their society meeting lodges, and gathering to make plans for tomorrow’s first hunt. Older children assisted their parents; girls, the women; boys, the men. Young children played under the watchful eyes of older siblings or grandparents. Babies and toddlers either slept or were tended by family members while the mother was busy. The Shirt-Wearers and anyone finished with his or her own tasks aided the elders or disabled with theirs. Among them was Wind Dancer. Small groups of warriors from the Sacred Bow Carriers and Strong Hearts Society rode off to scout the area beyond their sight for enemies, other Lakota bands, and the life-sustaining buffalo herds.

Chase wished he would be asked to perform some duty to help pass the time. He yearned to catch even a glimpse of Macha. He still was disquieted by something Hanmani had whispered to him during one of her hasty trips to his isolated location: his sister had warned him that despite his rescue and kind deeds for River’s Edge, Leaning Tree and Ohute would not give their permission or blessing for him to approach Macha any time soon—if ever—about a future joining.

“Be careful, my brother,” Hanmani had urged, “for your eyes glow with love and desire when you look upon her or speak of her. You must learn to hide such feelings from all but Dawn, for they can cause much trouble before you are a Red Shield.”

As those grim words wafted across his mind, Chase wondered again how it was possible to carry off such a hard pretense, when it was easier to halt breathing than to control wanting her every hour of every day and night. He yearned to hold her in his arms, to taste her sweet lips, to make slow and thrilling love to her, and to share his life with her. Now that he had found Macha and opened his heart to her, he must not lose her. She was the one person who loved and accepted him fully as he was. Whatever it took, Chase vowed, he must have her in his Life-Circle and forever, no matter what the consequences might be.

As he glanced toward the busy encampment once more, he
was disappointed that neither his brothers, his father, nor River’s Edge had visited him for even a short time during their journey. It was as if he had said and done nothing to alter the Red Shields’ opinion and treatment of him. How much longer, he fretted, would this near-exile last and what more could he do to prove himself to them?

The next morning, Chase was pleased—even surprised— when Wind Dancer and War Eagle came to his campsite and said he could go with the Red Shield party chosen for today’s first seasonal hunt. War Eagle loaned him his old bow again and a quiver of well-made arrows to use. Wind Dancer loaned him his second buffalo horse, as Chase’s sorrel was not trained for such a task. He thanked his brothers for their thoughtfulness and generosity, and hoped he passed whatever test he was being given today.

As the group gathered at the fringe of the village, Chase mounted the buffalo horse and positioned his weapons around his torso. This would be his first time participating in a buffalo hunt and he was excited and a little tense. He was glad his brothers had given him instructions during their walk to the other hunters, who only glanced at him upon his arrival, their stoic expressions revealing nothing to him about their feelings. He was certain Two Feathers would be annoyed he had been included, but he didn’t see his cousin amidst the men closest to him. Perhaps the vexing brave was off scouting for enemies or watching the herd’s movements and would join them later; or perhaps his offensive cousin was on camp-guard duty and wasn’t a member of this first party, which would suit Chase. He saw many women preparing to trail them with travois, as they would skin and butcher the fallen animals, and young braves would haul the hides and meat back to camp and return for the next load.

Chase also didn’t see Macha among either the women or observers and was disappointed to be denied even a short glimpse of her. He assumed Hanmani knew he was going along
on this quest and had told his love, so apparently Macha thought it too hazardous to witness their departure.

After the white-haired Nahemana, clad in his finest array and Elk Dreamer headdress as their shaman, evoked the Great Spirit’s guidance and protection and thanked the Creator for supplying the main source of their existence, a shout went up from many warriors as they galloped off to begin their hunt. Kicking up clumps of grass and stirring up dust, the exhilarated band raced over the terrain toward where a large herd had been sighted by scouts.

From a space between several tepees where she was doing her chores, Macha furtively watched the large hunting party gather, prepare, and depart. She dared not get closer or appear too interested in Rising Bear’s second son. When she had located him in that crowd, her heart had leapt with joy and love, and her body had warmed with desire. She prayed for the Great Spirit to guide and guard him during his challenge.

Shortly after sunrise, she grimaced when Two Feathers strolled past her family’s tepee while she helped her mother prepare their early meal. She had not smiled in return when the intimidating male slowed his pace and roamed her with his gaze from her black hair to her moccasined feet. She was relieved he had not halted to speak with them, but her mother had noticed the man’s overt behavior.

“He smiles at you and watches you on many suns, my daughter,” Ohute had whispered following his departure. “Though he does so with cunning, I have seen his looks. He is a great warrior and springs from a high bloodline. He would be a good mate for you, for the season has come when you must think of joining. Perhaps he seeks to see if he can capture your eye and acceptance before he speaks of such matters. You must also be cunning, my daughter, and let him know his pursuit will be welcomed.”

Dread consumed Macha at those words. She had feared this grim moment would arrive, but not this soon. “His skills and bloodline are impressive, my mother, but he does not catch my
eye and warm my heart. I would not want him to approach me in such a way, for I would not want to injure his feelings and pride with a rejection.”

Ohute stared at her. “Is there another Red Shield warrior who calls out to your feelings?”

Macha was relieved her mother had not said “another man,” so she was able to respond honestly. “No member of our band has done so to this sun,” for Cloud Chaser was not considered one of them yet.

“You must allow Two Feathers to share the talking blanket and a ride with you if he asks such things. If you refuse, you will show great dishonor to him and his family. Do not forget, he is the son of our chief’s sister. Pretty Meadow and Runs Fast will be offended by your refusal of their son when no other warrior stands between you two as a reason to refuse him, as will our chief and shaman. Hear me, my daughter: Two Feathers is a good choice. Your father and mother will be much pleased to have him as your husband. When Two Feathers comes to speak with you, and I am sure he will do so before this season passes, if you love, respect, and obey your parents, you must listen to his words and lean toward him.”

Macha felt as if a rawhide rope was tied around her throat, ever tightening, choking and squeezing her to death. “Even if I do not love and desire Two Feathers, I must sacrifice myself to him to please him and others?”

“Such feelings will come after you join to him. You do not wish to be as Little Deer was—old, childless, and living with your family.”

“Winona’s sister did not take a mate because the Great Spirit told her in a dream to remain unmatched. She was happy in the tepee of their brother Strong Rock. I beg you, my mother, say and do nothing to encourage him or his parents about such a union, for it will trouble my heart deeply.” Macha watched her mother frown.

“It will be as you wish, my daughter. But if he comes to you of his choice, do not be selfish and cold and dishonor him and your families by scorning him. That would not be wise, and might force your father to command you join to him.”

* * *

“Do not worry,” Hanmani coaxed Macha later as they fetched water and gathered wood and buffalo chips for cook fires, “for the Great Spirit will not allow such a union when He has chosen Cloud Chaser as your mate. You must be strong and brave, and force my cousin to remain silent with your actions. I will whisper in his ear many times that it is too soon to approach you and it would be unwise to do so until you smile on him.”

“What if our plan fails, Hanmani? What if Two Feathers approaches me or my family and Father says I must join him?”

“Trust me, my friend; we will defeat him. Before that sun rises, my second brother will be a Red Shield and worthy of you in all eyes.” Hanmani smiled at Macha. “I am sure your Life-Circles are to become entwined. If a wicked force battles the Great Spirit’s plan, we will find a way to challenge and defeat such evil. You love and desire Cloud Chaser very much; is that not true?”

“So much it frightens me at times, for I fear I will lose him forever.”

“That will not happen, Dawn, for I will not allow it. If you become entrapped, I will find a way to rescue you; this I promise. But you must help me by being distant to Two Feathers while Cloud Chaser becomes one of us.”

As Chase lay on his bedroll that night and stared at the full moon overhead, his thoughts ran in several directions. When Hanmani had brought him his evening meal, in a rush, she had given him a shocking revelation about what had happened between Macha and Two Feathers, Macha and her mother, and Macha and herself. Everything within him shouted for him to do something fast to prevent losing his beloved, but he didn’t know what he could do at this time. Yet, he had told Hanmani to tell Macha not to worry and to follow her instructions until he came up with a solution to the impending problem.

So much, Chase realized, depended upon him becoming a Red Shield again, and soon. Each time he believed he was
making progress toward that goal and advancing toward his target, it was as if he were shoved backward to his beginning mark again. The hunt had gone exceedingly well; he had slain many buffaloes, and no one had treated him badly. Even so, no brave had extended friendship toward him, either, just ignored him. Upon their return to camp, he had not been invited to eat with his family or any other band member, or even been asked to join the men to recount colorful tales of today’s and past hunts. While he sat and ate alone, he saw others gathered after meals, and that knowledge pained him deeply, even angered him.

So much was at stake, more now than when he had arrived in his father’s camp. Eventually, if the situation did not change in his favor, he had two important decisions to make: one, to leave forever; two, convince Macha to go with him. Would she give up everything and everyone there for him, for a strange life far away, a life amidst those she considered enemies?