Lakota (16 page)

"Go, my brothers!" Wamanon shouted, planting his lance in the earth and binding his leg. "I'm a fox. I'm supposed to die."

Tacante didn't hear the rest of the brave heat song. He was too busy driving the wasicun ponies out past the river. Hokala turned and went to help the Robber, and others prepared to follow.

"It's for Wamanon to stay," Hinhan Hota explained.

"I can't let Hokala go alone, Ate," Tacante said as he climbed atop his horse. "We are kolas."

"Go, my brave heart son," the Owl said reluctantly. "Sting the wasicuns with your arrows."

Tacante howled and raced to where Wamanon stood waiting for the cavalry charge. The bluecoats roared out of a powdery white cloud, and they reached Robber before Hokala or Tacante got near. Guns barked, and the lance carrier was swallowed by violent death. Tacante and Hokala notched arrows and sent them flying among the wasicuns. One bluecoat screamed out in pain as an arrow found his hip, and another tumbled from his slain horse. Then ten bluecoats charged out of the snow.

"Tacante" Hokala called, glancing nervously at the onrushing horse-men.

"Only death waits here," Tacante said, letting fly a final arrow. "We must go."

The two young Lakotas then turned their horses into the pines and vanished, leaving the bluecoats to search fruitlessly most of the afternoon. Toward nightfall Tacante and Hokala returned to recover the slain Wamanon's body. For once the bluecoats had shown respect for a brave heart. They had taken Robber's elk-hide robe and his buckskin leggings, but they had covered him with a red blanket. The lance remained even now anchored in the snowy hillside.

"Hau, Wamanon!" Hokala shouted. "Yours was a brave heart death."

"Yes," Tacante agreed as they tied the stiff corpse atop Hokala's horse. The Badger then climbed up behind Tacante, and the two young friends returned to the camp, leading the second pony with its grim burden.

All the people mourned the fallen Robber. For three days the people grieved. Wamanon was placed on a scaffold in the high rocks, and songs were sung about his courage. The pipe carriers called the Tokalas together then, for a new lance bearer was needed. Tacante watched nervously as many eyes fell on his chest. It was a hard thing, staying behind to die. Tatanka, Bull Buffalo, had called upon him to live for the people.

Perhaps the Tokalas read the reluctance in Tacante's eyes, or perhaps they saw the concern written on Hinhan Hota's face. Maybe the pipe carriers, close as they were to Wakan Tanka, understood the Great Mystery and followed its urging. They sought out Hokala and placed the lance in his hands.

"Hokala Huste," Wicahpi Inyan said solemnly, "we of the Tokalas call upon you to bear the lance."

"Will you accept it, knowing the grave responsibilities that are given to a Tokala lance bearer?" Wahacanka Mazasu asked.

"I'm a fox," Hokala said gravely. "It's for me to do what is dangerous and difficult."

"Hau!" the others shouted. Tacante howled, even though inside he was scolding the weakness that made him glad it was Hokala who was called to bear the lance. Tacante saw the Badger dead that very moment, knew long life had been snatched from a brother who had never held back when Tacante faced danger.

Hokala gave many presents away, and Tacante honored his friend by giving two of the stolen wasicun horses to families whose animals had died of the harsh weather.

"I was certain they would give you the lance, Tacante," Hokala told his friend later. "It's you that's so often led the charge."

"It was you turned back to help Wamanon," Tacante said, driving the truth from his face. "They all saw."

Hokala glowed with pride, but Tacante only swallowed his own misery. The day Hokala first planted the lance and remained behind, Tacante swore to stay also. Perhaps that vow might ease his guilt.

He doubted it.

Winter soon brought another ceremony. A year had passed since the passing of old He Hopa, and Four Horns's family now brought out the many possessions of the medicine man and spread them in the snow.

"Hear us, friends," Wanbli Cannunpa called. "He who was called He Hopa is no more. We give up his ghost that he may walk in peace on the other side."

Hehaka and her sisters carried kettles and blankets to one family or another. Many fine shirts were given away to those in need. Buffalo hides and beaded moccasins were passed among the elders. Finally Wanbli Cannunpa lifted a fine medicine bonnet skyward. The buffalo horns protruding from each side had been a source of great power, and suddenly a great quiet setded over the camp.

"Wakan Tanka, bring power and wisdom to the man who wears this bonnet," Wanbli Cannunpa prayed. He then carried the medicine bonnet to Tacante and set it upon the startled young man's head.

"I'm not worthy," Tacante objected.

He Hopa chose you," the Pipe explained. "His medicine charms are in my lodge, as are many powders. Who would know what to do with them? It's your heart Tatanka speaks to. Yours is the healing way."

Tacante dipped his head in modest submission, and the people howled their approval.

"I have no good horse to ride," Wanbli Cannunpa then added.
4
'Perhaps you know of one I might like?"

"I do," Tacante said. "You know of the fine buckskin mare I have ridden to hunt the buffalo."

"Ah, such a fine gift would need to be answered. Is there something I have you could use?"

Something of great value," Tacante answered, shyly shifting his eyes toward Hehaka.

You have a dark horse, too, taken from the wasicuns."

"And a raven-colored stallion. These I would offer."

"Then come to my lodge when the sun rises," Wanbli Cannunpa said, gripping Tacante's wrists. "My daughter's heart will soar with the hawks."

"As mine will," Tacante said.

So it was that Tacante walked from the lodge of his father and took a wife. As was the custom, Tacante now adopted Hehaka's people as his own. He bid farewell to his Sicangu brothers, for now Wanbli Cannunpa would point the way. But scarcely had word been sent to the neighboring camps of the wedding feast when the scouts brought word that peace speakers had again come to Fort Laramie.

"Ah, the wasicuns speak often of peace," Mahpiya Luta spoke to a gathering of Oglalas. "If they want peace, they only have to leave our country and keep the thieves from Powder River."

Others spoke much the same, but Louis Le Doux arrived to say there were, indeed, two star chiefs and many other wasicuns at the fort. They brought presents and spoke of ending the killing.

"It's good word I bring," Louis told Tacante. "I'm pleased, too, that I'll be here to share your wedding feast."

"Yes," Tacante said, smiling at his brother-friend. "It's been a long time since we hunted elk. You, too, must soon find a wife. A trader's son has many good things to trade, and we have many women and not so many young men."

"We're not so young as when we watched Itunkala in his cradle-board. He's grown. You have, too."

"Yes," Tacante said, touching the fine black hairs that now spread beneath Hinkpila's nose. It was strange, this hairy face that had come to his brother-friend. "And you, Hinkpila."

"You'll come to the fort soon? Hinhan Hota, our father, has agreed to hear the peace speakers' words."

"Soon I will be Oglala," Tacante said, turning to look at Eagle Pipe. "Mahpiya Luta stays. Sunkawakan Witkotkoke stays. I, too, will remain until the soldiers leave."

"Then perhaps our paths will meet when summer returns," Louis said. "I will watch our brother."

"Yes," Tacante said sadly. "Itunkala is young. He's not lived among the wasicuns."

The two of them gripped each other's hands. Then Tacante went to seek out his father and brother.

"You go to the fort, Ate," Tacante said when he joined Hinhan Hota. "The Oglalas stay."

"Many stay," Hinhan Hota replied. "Some go. You've chosen well, my son. Be a good husband. Bring no dishonor on your family."

"I'd sooner die," Tacante assured his father. "You will say to my mother and sister that I thank them for the many fine presents they have made for me and my wife."

"It gives them pleasure to do it. You've been a good son and a worthy brother."

"Now I must talk with Itunkala."

"He waits for you even now," Hinhan Hota said, pointing to where the Mouse stood holding the patched buffalo shield.

Tacante led the boy across the snow-covered hillside. Itunkala had now passed eight winters upon the earth, and the beginnings of the man he would be were upon him. He was small, but his feet carried him swiftly, and his strong little arms made him a fair match for his bigger companions in the wrestling games favored by Lakota boys.

"I'll miss you on the hunt, Misun," Tacante said, using the favored word for his younger brother. His only blood brother.

"You promised to make me a bow of good ash," Itunkala said, resting his head against his brother's side.

"I'll do it. We won't be so long from each other's sight. Soon this war will be finished, and we will hunt the buffalo."

"You'll come to the fort?"

"When the fighting's done. Now Hinkpila, our brother, will look after you. He has many brothers, and he knows much. He'll show you strange things and teach you difficult words spoken by the wasicuns."

"I don't want to know such things!" Itunkala answered angrily. "The wasicuns kill our people. A wasicun put the hole in your side."

"Don't close your mind to what can be learned, Misun. A clever Lakota knows his enemies. He learns their weaknesses and turns that knowledge against them."

"Hau!" Itunkala shouted. "That's true."

"Come now with me to the wedding feast. Hehaka has no young brothers, and she wishes to see what one looks like. You'll sit beside me in a place of honor, and you can choose the best pieces of meat."

Itunkala grinned broadly, and the two of them walked together to where Hehaka's Oglala relations had erected the new lodge she would now share with her husband. Food was spread out on blankets, and already a crowd was gathering. It was only when the two brothers came near that Itunkala wavered. Clutching Tacante's hand, the Mouse tried not to let his sadness show. But the boy's feelings overwhelmed him, and Tacante lifted the boy onto one shoulder and walked on to greet his new wife and her family.

"Hau!" Wanbli Cannunpa cried. "I welcome my son, Tacante, to his new lodge."

Tacante responded with proud words, and then the people celebrated the union with much good food. Presents were given away freely, and there was singing and dancing. Later, when Tacante and Hehaka closed the buffalo-hide flap over their tipi's oval door and crept to the warm fire, they exchanged shy glances.

"Here I am for you, my husband," Hehaka said, baring herself.

"And I for you, lovely one," Tacante said as he peeled off his shirt.

Tacante felt an icy chill creep down his back as he loosened his leggings. Then Hehaka spread apart the rich buffalo hides her sisters had prepared for them. She lay on one side, watching with eager eyes as he removed his breechclout. She then grinned shyly as he joined her.

Tacante remembered the terrifying loneliness he'd felt at Blue Creek. Since that day he'd never known the perfect belonging he'd experienced as a small boy in his father's lodge. Now, as Hehaka drew him to her, that belonging returned. Every inch of him glowed with rare warmth, and he knew the great contentment that being one with another could bring.

No thoughts of fighting wasicuns or signing treaties invaded has mind that night. There was only Hehaka.

The wasicuns called it Red Cloud's War. Perhaps it was, for of all the chiefs and warriors determined to save Powder River and the last of the great hunting grounds, Mahpiya Luta's voice rose loudest. Even as the many Lakota and Sahiyela chiefs touched the pen to a new treaty at Fort Laramie, the Cloud, Sunkawakan Witkotkoke, and many other Lakotas remained in the Big Horn country, watching the bluecoats in their forts and raiding the wasicuns traveling the stolen road.

"Come to the fort and make peace," many voices urged. "See how the wasicuns reward us with their many presents. We have new guns that shoot far and fire many times. Hau! The hunting is good, and our young men will live to see many summers."

"So long as the wasicuns stay in this country, I will fight," Mahpiya Luta always answered. And many stayed with him.

Wanbli Cannunpa remained, and Tacante now followed his father-inlaw. The heart longed to hear the wise, familiar voice of Hinhan Hota, and he missed the admiring eyes of little Itunkala. But Hehaka comforted him with her soft words and warm touch, and he enjoyed a new contentment.

Often he rode to the watching hill to share time with Waawanyanka and Sunka Sapa. The two young men would sometimes return to Eagle Pipe's camp and enjoy the chiefs hospitality. Hehaka often eased the pain of many days in the saddle with her healing herbs, and she was equally gifted preparing fry bread or stewing buffalo and elk meat.

"Ah, it's a good bargain you made, Tacante," Sunka Sapa remarked. "You've found a wife to fatten your belly and heal your hurts."