Lakota Dawn (4 page)

The 1851 Laramie Treaty, called the Treaty of the Long Meadows by the Indians, was meant to change that lifestyle. Yet, two huge factors had been overlooked: not all Nations and tribes had agreed to the treaty and not all who had done so would honor their pledges. When only one band or tribe attacked another or Whites, all Indians would be blamed, for the white man saw all Indians as one group of people. Why couldn’t the Whites realize the Dakota Nation was as different from the Crow and Pawnee Nations as the American Nation was from the British or French or Spanish? Why couldn’t they remember how fiercely they had battled those forces for independence and freedom and for possession of this enormous country? Had they forgotten the Indians were here first? Did they really expect the Indians to allow them to just ride in and take over their ancestral lands, to wreak major changes in their lives, all for some scant and inferior annuities?

On the other hand, Chase reasoned, did his father and brothers understand the grave situation—and him—better than he himself did? Did they truly understand the serious and deadly extent of the risks they would be taking if they challenged the Whites? Knowing the Army’s certain retaliation could mean extermination of his people, could he help kill Whites when that moment arrived if they resolved to fight rather than submit? Did he have doubts he could comply and that was what his father and brothers sensed? Did he—

War Eagle’s approach halted Chase’s line of thought when he and another man arrived with food, his bedroll, saddlebags, wood, and his knife.

“Wind Dancer send supplies and your possessions. This Swift Otter; he friend and Sacred Bow Carrier. You eat, stay here.”

Chase nodded a greeting to Swift Otter, the man who had ridden with War Eagle this morning and had confiscated his weapons. The warrior simply looked at him in return. In
English, he said, “You were eight years old when I vanished, War Eagle. Do you remember me?”

“I remember a little about my brother.”

Chase noted War Eagle had chosen his reply carefully. “But you aren’t sure I’m Cloud Chaser?”

“You speak many true words from suns long past. You know them or Cloud Chaser speak them to you?”

“I swear on my life and honor I am Cloud Chaser, your brother. I—” A sharp voice using Lakota cut off the rest of his sentence.

“Did your father say this white man can stay?”

War Eagle turned to face Two Feathers, who had left the trees nearby and joined them, his expression one of anger. “Yes, he camps here.”

“He must be guarded, my cousin; he is a threat to us.”

“That has not been proven, Two Feathers. Father speaks; we obey.”

Also speaking Lakota, Chase told the seething man, “The rivalry between us took place when we were boys, Two Feathers. We are men now. We must put our conflict behind us, bury it forever, for the good of our people.”

“There can be no peace between us until you prove yourself a worthy warrior and loyal only to us. You have not done so with words and will never do so with deeds.”

“If not peace,” Chase urged, “make a truce with me so—”

“You can trick your way back into our band and people’s hearts? Do not ask for my help and acceptance, half-breed, for I will never give them.”

“Why do you hate me, Two Feathers, when the same blood runs within our veins, the blood of our grandparents, Chief Ghost Warrior and Redbird? It is the Red Shield way to be loyal to our chief, our family, our band, and our great Dakota Nation. Brothers, sisters, and children of our leader are the most important members of our band; we are among that group, Two Feathers, so there should be no swinging hatchet between us.”

“I carry only Indian blood; you carry the blood of our enemy, so we are different; there is no bond between us.”

“You speak and behave as a bad child, Two Feathers. There is a blood bond between us whether you accept it or not.” Chase wished he hadn’t allowed his cousin to provoke him to speak what was taken as a grave insult by the man. He saw Two Feathers’ gaze narrow and chill even more and the warrior’s body stiffen with rising fury.

“You seek to stain my honor, half-breed? Do you challenge me to a fight? Take up your knife and we will settle our conflict here and now.”

War Eagle seized Two Feathers’ arm before he fully extracted the knife at his waist. “You will not fight Cloud Chaser,” he ordered. “He is here by Father’s command. You break our law to fight a man protected by a chief.”

Swift Otter shook his head and told the man in a firm tone,
“Iya, Wiyaka Nunpa; Ecunsni yo.”

Chase knew that meant, “Go away, Two Feathers; do not do it.” He waited, as did War Eagle and Swift Otter, for his cousin’s next action.

“Mni kte lo,”
Two Feathers told his friends, but added to Chase,
“Tka ecana nitin tke.”
He spit on the ground as a sign of contempt and left.

Chase did not respond to his cousin’s parting words of “I will go. But you are going to die soon.” He waited until Two Feathers stalked away before he thanked War Eagle’s friend. Again, Swift Otter kept his expression stoic, uncertain how he was supposed to respond to his chief’s less-than-welcomed son. Concerned about his beloved animal, which was his one remaining bond to the Martins, Chase asked War Eagle; “Can my horse camp here with me? He does not know this place and people and will not be calm without me being nearby.”

“Horse stay there. He be safe and tended. Cloud Chaser stay here.”

Chase decided not to protest what he assumed was their precaution against his escape, and hoped Red would be all right where he was. He nodded and requested that War Eagle thank
Wind Dancer for sending him food and his belongings. “I’ll stay here until Father sends for me,” he promised.

War Eagle nodded. He started to warn Cloud Chaser not to fight and especially not hurt Two Feathers if he approached him again, but rejected that idea. He would relate the matter to his father and brother and they would halt Two Feathers from picking a fight with his brother, for he was convinced this man was indeed Cloud Chaser. But could he, War Eagle worried, be trusted? Soon the truth would be revealed; then it would be decided if Cloud Chaser would live or die…

While War Eagle was with Chase, Wind Dancer was in the tepee of Rising Bear. “What are your feelings and thoughts, my father?” he asked.

The chief shook his head, and sighed deeply, before answering. “My second son has been lost to me for twelve circles of the seasons when this man comes to us and says he is Cloud Chaser. I yearn to believe he is my child and he has returned to me, but I fear to do so. If he lies and tricks us, he can bring much danger to our people. Even if he speaks the truth of who he is, he can cause much trouble here, and for certain if evil dwells within him. I am chief and must do what is best for my people, even if I must lose my son again to honor and fulfill my duty and rank.”

Rising Bear sighed deeply again. “I was not a good father to him, Wind Dancer, for each time I gazed upon him, I was reminded of my weakness with his mother and saw him as a punishment for that wicked deed. I feared if I treated him as I did you and my other children, my beloved wife and people would think I loved his mother and that could cause resentment and anger toward me, and I would lose their respect and obedience. When Cloud Chaser was taken from me not long after Omaste’s death, I believed it was the Great Spirit’s way of
forgiving me for that weakness and removing all signs of it from my life. I acted wrongly toward Cloud Chaser, my son, for he was not to blame for my bad deed and should not have suffered for it. I was selfish and blind, and did not practice the Four Virtues. But now that he has been blanketed by White ways for so long, he may be more
wasicun
than Oglala, if in truth he is my son.”

Wind Dancer’s heart was touched by his father’s unexpected confession. Yet, all men made mistakes some time during their lives; only a great and good man learned and grew stronger from them, as his father had done. Perhaps, he reasoned, there was another lesson to be learned. “How could this man know the things he told us and come to possess such belongings if he is not Cloud Chaser?” he asked.

“What if he was a brother or friend to Cloud Chaser and he learned and took such things from him?” his father argued. “What if he only uses them as a means to sneak into our camp and spy on us? If we allow him to live among us, he can learn our secrets and those of our allies and reveal them to our enemies. If he is Cloud Chaser and his heart and mind remained loyal to us, why did he take so long to return? He has been a man for many seasons. Why would he stay with those who had betrayed him?”

“Perhaps his mind was clouded by feelings of duty to them,” Wind Dancer reasoned. “Perhaps his heart is kind and generous, my father, and he felt he must repay them for their many good deeds. He was a child. He was injured. He believed us dead. He was taken far away from all he knew and loved. He came to love and trust them before he learned the dark truth of their false words.”

“You speak in his favor, my firstborn son? You believe his claims?”

“I do not know yet if he can be trusted, but I believe he is my brother. I am to follow you as chief, my father. For that rank and duty, you and Grandfather have taught me to study any important matter from all sides. It is true it is dangerous to accept him if he is not Cloud Chaser or his heart is now evil. But it is wrong to reject him if he is a son and brother
and he is good, for we do not know if he was summoned by Wakantanka or sent by an evil force.”

“Your thoughts and words are wise, Wind Dancer; you have learned well from our teachings and the guidance of the Great Spirit. Still, the question remains: Do we accept him back into our lives and band?”

“For many suns to come, we must only watch and listen, and wait for the Great Spirit to guide us along the right and safe path,” he advised his father. “Do you not agree, Grandfather?” Wind Dancer asked the shaman, who had remained silent during the serious talk between father and son.

Nahemana smiled. “You have learned well, my grandson; you are both wise and cunning. It must be as you say.”

“Go to him, Wise One, and see what you can learn,” the chief urged.

Nahemana looked at Rising Bear, nodded, and left the tepee.

Chase took a last swallow of water to finish washing down the roasted venison and bread which War Eagle had brought to him earlier. He screwed the top onto his canteen and put it aside as he watched the shaman heading toward him. He wondered if the old man was displeased or worried about his return and would speak against his remaining there. He knew how revered and trusted the shaman was. Nahemana had great influence over his people’s thoughts and actions, and he had proven many times he was in communion with the Great Spirit. All things which had been revealed to him in dreams and visions had come to pass. So where and how did this powerful and mystical man fit into his destiny?

Chase greeted him and invited him to come and sit on the log and talk.
“Hau, Nahemana. U wo. Cankaga akan yanka. Ia.”
As the shaman sat down, he added,
“Tanyan yahi yelo. Ake iyuskinyan wancinyankelo,”
telling the elderly man he was glad he came and was glad to see him again.

After remarking that he spoke good Lakota, Nahemana asked,
“Taku ca yacin hwo? Takunocin yahipi?”

He wasted no time getting to the point of what I want here,
Chase thought and urged him not to be afraid of his return home.
“Kopegla sni yo; wakuyelo.”
He continued in their language. “Can you not see or feel what is in my heart, Wise One? You knew what came to me in my dream, so do you not also know I speak the truth?”

“The Great Spirit put that thought inside my head and those words in my mouth, for I did not know them before they came forth not from my will but from His. He has not shown me what lives within you or the true reason why you have come to us. If you are not Yutokeca Mahpiya and your purpose here is a bad one, you will be punished by Him and the Red Shields.”

“I am He Who Chases Clouds, Grandfather. But the only clouds I chase are those created by fleeing enemies or game I am pursuing. I do not and will not ride in the dust clouds kicked up by our enemies or an evil spirit.”

“What help can you, one man, be to my people?”

“I do not know, Grandfather,” Chase admitted, surprised the older man did not seem to take offense at the name he called him, the same one he had used so long ago as a child. “I hoped you could tell me, Wise One. Will you ask the Great Spirit to reveal such things to you?”

“My heart asked Him to do so as soon as you spoke your name to us. But He will not answer until He knows the time is right. When He sends His message, be gone if you spoke falsely, or prepare to die.”

“I hear your warning, Grandfather, but it will not drive me away, for I spoke the truth. Only the Great Spirit and my father can send me away. I am Yutokeca Mahipya; I am Red Shield Oglala; this is where I belong. The only family I possess lives here, and it is where I yearn to remain. Tell me what must be done to prove myself, Wise One, and I will do it.”

“That is a deed or task for the Great Mystery to decide and reveal. I go now,” Nahemana said, rising slowly and with difficulty.

“Tanyan yahi yelo. Ake u wo.”
Chase told him once more he was glad he had come and to “come again.”

Nahemana nodded and left, many thoughts filling his head.

Chase well remembered the old man and days long past.
Whenever Nahemana had been left in charge of his grandchildren and told them stories or given them instructions, it was always Wind Dancer and War Eagle sitting on either side of him on a buffalo hide and Hanmani nestled in his lap. As if an outsider, he was left to take a place on the ground before them, separate and alone. Although they had not been related to him by blood and mostly seemed to ignore his presence, Nahemana and Little Turtle were the only grandparents he had ever known. He remembered Little Turtle giving Wind Dancer and War Eagle hair-stuffed leather ponies and Hanmani a grassstuffed doll and miniature tepee one day. He had stood nearby empty-handed and heartbroken. It had been his half-brothers who had let him play with their toys, who had let him shadow them, who had included him in games and mock hunts. It had been Wind Dancer, not his father or other male relatives as was the custom, who had taught him to make his first bow and arrows and had taught him how to use them and how to fight and track and hunt. It had been Wind Dancer who had kept Two Feathers from mistreating him and excluding him from boyhood activities.

So why, Chase wondered, did his older brother now reject and mistrust him? Perhaps the only reason was because Wind Dancer was trapped between him and his family and people and his duty to them. If he could win over the future chief and such a high-ranking warrior, surely half his battle to return home would be won. He also needed to win over the shaman and his daughter, for they held much sway over his father. But how could he convince those three people of his sincerity?

At dusk, Hanmani arrived with a wooden bowl of stewed meat and wild vegetables, seasoned with local herbs. She also handed him three half-inch cuttings of
wakapapi wasna
—pemmican—from last summer’s stores, for it would last for several years if made and wrapped properly.

Chase smiled at the reserved female with tea-colored eyes and hair, who was now sixteen by his figuring.
“Pilamaya, tanksi.”
He thanked her and called her his younger sister.

“Am I truly your sister? Are you Cloud Chaser or a false talker?”

Chase smiled again with hopes of relaxing and even charming her. Too, he was both amused and impressed by her boldness and courage. “Yes, I am Cloud Chaser, your brother. You were only four circles of the seasons when I was taken away, so you must not remember me. You have become a pretty young woman while I was gone. I am sure our father is proud of you.”

“He is pleased with me, for I obey and respect him and love him.”

Chase noticed a gleam of pleasure in her eyes at his compliments and how she seemed to struggle to continue to appear aloof. “As I do, Hanmani; and I will prove myself worthy of my rank as his son when I am given a chance. Will you sit and talk with me while I eat? There is much I long to learn about my family. I was told Wind Dancer has a wife and son. Is there a young brave who steals your heart and eye?”

Hanmani was filled with curiosity about the man, but had been told not to linger near him. She made an excuse which she suspected sounded like a lie, but was partly true. “The sun sleeps soon and I have more chores to do, so I must go now. I will return with more food when the sun appears in the sky again.” She noted his disappointed expression, one which touched her tender heart, for he might be her brother.

“I understand you must leave,” Chase said kindly. “I hope we can talk on another sun. Thank you for your kindness and the food, and thank your mother for me.”

Hanmani started to leave, but hesitated, then turned to face him. “If you are my brother and you stay with us, we will talk many times. I thank you for your kind words about me. It is sad, but I do not think I remember my brother. If I am wrong, such things will return to me soon. Eat while your food is hot. Do you have enough wood for a fire if needed?”

“I have plenty, my sister, and thank you for having a good heart.”

Hanmani could not resist exchanging smiles with him before leaving. She was glad she had spoken her final words to him,
for they seemed to make him happy. Perhaps if they became friends, even false ones if he was a trickster, he would tell her things he might not tell the others.

As Chase lay on his bedroll and placed an arm across his full stomach, he told himself that maybe he should be careful of what he ate. Probably nothing would please Winona more than for him to be resting on a death scaffold instead of on the grass outside her husband’s camp and within his visual range.
But why shouldn’t she hate and resent the bastard child of her husband with another woman, a white woman, one of the enemy?
his troubled mind shouted.

Immediately he scolded himself for that wicked thought, as Winona had tended him for a year after his mother’s death: she had made, washed, and repaired his clothes; she had fed him; she had tended him when he was sick; she had allowed him to play with her own children; and she had not forced Rising Bear to send him away. She had not even asked his father to do so, to his knowledge. However, his heart cried, she had never embraced him; she had never spoken unnecessary words to him; and she had not even tried to comfort him—a small child—following his mother’s death.

Yet, perhaps Winona had feared him in some way, feared he would draw Rising Bear’s attention and affection away from her children, feared his presence would always be a reminder to Rising Bear of the night he had shared on his mat with the beautiful Omaste and also be a reminder to their people of the chief’s one display of weakness. To be fair to the woman, he must remember what she had endured during her captivity with the fierce Pawnee. The woman must have suffered unspeakable torment under enemy hands. Then, to return to her own home to discover a bastard child in her tepee and her own son adoring the white woman who had lived in her place for two years— that would be painful for any wife and mother. Chase told himself to be understanding, patient, and compassionate where Winona was concerned; but still he must be wary of her.

As he lay on his back, he gazed upward at an almost fully
black moon and had only the glow of a small fire nearby to provide scant light for his solitary setting. He had been back for only one day and had made contact with each of his old family members except Winona. Perhaps he hadn’t done badly with such a difficult task in such a short span of time. Then, again, he was certain he wasn’t trusted, as he sensed eyes upon him and no doubt was being guarded. He felt vulnerable without his weapons, but he did have his knife within easy reach.

As he heard movement nearby, he thought surely Two Feathers would not attempt to kill him, even with the hope an enemy would be blamed. As was their custom for someone under the protection of their leader, his cousin would be risking much to harm or slay him. At least he didn’t have to pass the night bound to a post or staked to the ground! When he sighted two deer approaching the river to drink, he knew what had made those sounds.