Tiopa Ki Lakota (14 page)

With a careful hand, the young woman reached to the wound her arrow sprouted from. Taking blood on her fingertips, she drew two lightning bolts from her eyes to her chin. She remained in her place on her knees beside her kill, eyes closed as she continued to pay the sacred animal's spirit homage.

Eventually, the sound of horses roused her. Anpo inhaled deeply and opened her eyes, rising to stand. Several warriors from both camps arrived, whooping in excitement.

"
Tanksi
! I
told
you!" Nupa called, clearly elated at his best friend's success. "You have brought this camp much honor with
wakan tanka
!" He hopped off his horse and ran forward to clap Anpo on the back.

Others from both camps clambered off their mounts to congratulate the young woman. Anpo smiled and flushed from their praise. There was a pause in the well-wishing when the two chiefs arrived. Both, elder and younger, approached the carcass and studied it, speaking softly to one another.

Wicasa Waziya Mani bent, whispered something to the bull, and yanked the arrow that had been his from the flesh. His teeth were bright against his dark skin as he approached the waiting warriors. "You have done well,
wikoskalaka

," he said.

Nodding, Anpo responded, "Thank you,
wicahcala

."

More horses thundered up as the rest of the men arrived. One threw himself from his saddle and angrily marched towards the knot of warriors gathered at the beast.

"The
tatanka

ska

is my kill!" Hehaka Yatke argued. "
I
am the honored one!
Not
some
wicincala

!"

There was a collective gasp as Anpo was slurred. Even Yatke's chief turned to stare at his warrior, ashamed for his rudeness. "Yatke..." he growled, eyes flashing.

"
Hoh

, Mani!" the enraged warrior interrupted. "
You
might be willing to step aside for a
wicincala
pretending to be
wicasa

, but I will not! You
saw
the shot! You
know
I speak truly!"

"I know that you and I and two others all tried to slay the
tatanka ska
at the same time. Three arrows pierced the animal's hide." Mani spread his hands out, an apologetic look sent the young woman's way. "I know that my arrow was not deep enough to kill. I do not believe yours was either, Yatke."

The other man refused to back down. "I claim the
tatanka ska
," he insisted, arms crossed over his chest and chin jutting out in defiance.

"Then let the shamans ask the spirit of
tatanka ska
," came a clear voiced suggestion.

Everyone turned to look at Anpo.

"The shamans will talk to his spirit and will know who slew him," the warrior continued, her face relaxed though her eyes were hard.

There was a general murmur from the other warriors as this was considered. While the hunting was over, it wasn't official, and no wars or vendettas could be fought until it was. All seemed to find it a good idea except the disputor.

"
Hoh
! There is no need! A
wikoskalaka

could never shoot an arrow with enough strength to kill
tatanka
!"

Anpo's eyes narrowed and she frowned. Around her, a good portion of the warriors from both camps growled, having seen the previous kills she'd made. A whisper of a memory crossed her mind.
I will become better than most men.

The warrior refused to back up when the woman stepped forward to glare deeply into his eyes.

In a strong voice, Anpo asked, "Then you are afraid?"

Yatke's back stiffened even more. Pushing his face until it was a mere breath away from her own, he said, "I am not afraid of you
or
old men."

Undaunted, the young woman said, "Then you will abide by their decision?"

"If they decide against me, they will be wrong." He paused in thought. "But, I will abide by it."

A vision crossed Anpo's mind -
the white woman with hair like the sun.
"If the shamans decide in your favor, I will give you my best hunting pony. If they decide in my favor,
you
will give me the strange woman."

A flash of confusion briefly crossed Yatke's eyes. As all awaited his decision, he weighed the options. Up to this point, the pale woman had barely held her own, unable to understand the language or what was demanded of her as his woman and slave. It would be a loss of stature to lose her, no more than that.
But, I will not lose.

Yatke smiled. "I agree. Let these
wicasa
," and he stressed the word, "be witness."

Wagmiza Wagna pointed to the nearest warrior still on his horse. "Go! Tell our shamans I have need of their counsel! And tell the rest of the camp this hunt is complete!
Wana
!"

The rider shot off at a full gallop, racing towards the camp.

There was some time before the messenger would return. In the meanwhile, warriors picked their way through the killing field, describing to each other the details of their kill.

Nupa remained at his friend's side. He cast sidelong glares at Yatke, who stood alone. "His head is full of feathers," he growled. "Anyone could see that you have the honor here,
tanksi

."

Shrugging in feigned disinterest, Anpo looked over the field. "I told you,
tiblo

. I will have the honor only if it is to be." Her mind saw a head of golden hair, eyes of the deepest blue.
Is it to be?

Her friend refused to respond to her skepticism.

Soon, the rider returned, two other ponies with him carrying the wise men of the joined camps. Behind the three could be seen the approaching camp, preparing to slaughter the kill and ready the evening's feast.

Inyan Ceye climbed from his steed. "There is a dispute?" he asked, looking at the young woman.

Before the warrior could respond, Yatke spoke up. "
Hau

! There is!" He waved vaguely in Anpo's direction. "This... this...
wikoskalaka
," he sneered, "thinks the
tatanka ska
is hers. But she is not strong enough to slay it."

The shaman raised an eyebrow at Anpo who nodded in return. Turning to his comrade, a man about a dozen years senior, Inyan Ceye smiled. "Let's you and I have a look at
tatanka ska
so that we might ease these warriors' hearts and minds." And the two strode over and bent to their task.

As the women and girls picked over the carcasses, identifying their mens' kills by the decorations on the weapons, the two older men pored over the white buffalo. Soon, they each took out a rattle and other tools of their trade. Nearby stood a gaggle of
hoksila

, watching the proceedings with avid interest. A pipe was smoked, a chant commenced with much rattling and fanfare as the shamans joined forces to speak with the dead animal's spirit.

Anpo stood tall and proud, keeping her anxiety and anger under control.
You are better than most men, Wi Ile Anpo
, she thought. Catching movement from the corner of her eye, she watched her opponent pace.
And definitely better than this man.
She could feel the flow of strength from her friend and her father who stood behind her.

No one stood behind Yatke.

When most of the slaughtering had been done, the two men finished their spiritual quest. Both dusted off their robes and put away their shamanic instruments. There was a low sound of their voices as they conferred. Apparently coming to an agreement, the pair approached the disputing parties.

The elder shaman of Yatke's camp spoke up. "We have come to a decision. Will you abide by it?"

Anpo bowed her head in agreement. "I will abide by your decision,
wicahcala
. And I will keep my part of the wager."

"And I," the other warrior spouted, stepping forward with irritation that the woman had spoken first.

Nodding, the older of the shamans stepped back, gesturing towards Inyan Ceye.

"We have walked the land of the spirits and spoken to many who witnessed this hunt," the younger shaman intoned, eyes closed. "We have found the spirit of
tatanka

ska

and asked him his opinion of this matter between two of our best hunters." Inyan Ceye opened his eyes and they snagged the attention of all who surrounded them. "
Tatanka ska
knows that the warrior in the yellow shirt slew him."

There was a moment of silence as his statement sunk in. And then Nupa whooped and pounded his friend on the back, nearly knocking her over in excitement. Anpo's knees felt watery and it was all she could do to keep her feet as relief washed over her. And something else coursed through her blood - a trickle of fear.

Hehaka Yatke stood frozen, a look of disbelief on his face.

His chief, Mani, approached and studied the man for long seconds. "I am witness," he said softly, bringing the warrior back to the present and reminding him of his wager. "When you lose, do not lose the lesson."

Kathleen wiped her sweaty forehead on her shoulder, about the only part of her anatomy that wasn't currently covered in gore. She was blood to the elbows and smears of the red liquid were on her dress and moccasins.
Butcherin's hard work
, she thought in tired amazement.
I've always wondered why Adam was so exhausted when he was done with the venison.
The blonde hurriedly returned to skinning the animal she was working on when the old grandmother began an angry tirade.

That morning there'd been a huge party at the main fires. There had been a lot of ceremonies and dancing, though the blonde had been surprised that it hadn't lasted too long.
Not as long as their suppers, anyway.
And then most of the men had ridden out of camp as if all the hounds of Hell had been upon them. Kathleen had sensed quite a bit of excitement from everyone in the camp and was all out curious. But her command of the language was still minimal and impeded her eavesdropping on the women she lived with.

At mid morning, a lone rider had returned. The clatter of hooves had drawn all the natives close and Kathleen trailed behind, holding the boy child. She watched as the rider hurled himself from his saddle and pelted towards the huge tent in the center of camp. Others were obviously puzzled by his behavior because a low buzz of conversation arose and a few frowns could be seen. Within moments, however, the rider had stepped back out of the tent, a large smile gracing his face. He spoke up, loud and clear, and the people cheered before suddenly becoming very industrious.

Kathleen found herself divested of the child she was carrying and herded back towards the tent she lived in. From there, the two women gathered several utensils and pushed some of them into her hands. She was surprised to find herself holding an obsidian knife.
Do they trust me with weapons now?
she wondered. Further thought wasn't allowed, however, as she was pulled and prodded away from the camp.

It was then that she noticed all the other members of the camp doing the same, a mass migration to the south. Within a few minutes, the group arrived at a low plain. Scattered all across it were dead animals.

That's what was happenin'!
Kathleen's blue eyes grew wide as she made the connection.
T'were huntin' for game!
And then she found herself being pulled along until they came to an animal. The women with her began the slaughtering, urging her close and mimicking which way she should use her own knife to cut the thick hide.

Nearby, a cluster of the men had gathered and the blonde had looked up from her work when she'd heard angry voices. She was surprised to find that one of them was the man with the yellow shirt, the one who'd been watching her intently for the few days the camps had been joined. The other was the man she was living with.
He must really be mad about somethin'
, Kathleen thought fearfully. Memories of an abusive savage came to her, flashes of pain from her many violations, and she shuddered.

And then the two old men that Kathleen thought were priests of some sort began singing over the body of an unusual colored carcass. Several men stood nearby and watched. Unable to fathom what they were about, the blonde returned her attention to her task.
If he's mad already, I don't want ta give him cause ta beat me
, she reasoned, slicing through the muscle of a leg to render the meat into smaller sizes. That he hadn't beat her before didn't cross her mind.

The words of his chief echoed in his head.
"When you lose, do not lose the lesson."
Yatke remained still, fighting the fury within at being bested by a
wikoskalaka
.
But, what is the lesson?

His dark eyes regarded the young woman before him. Despite the pronouncement from the shamans, she did not smile, did not gloat at him for his loss. She was tall and strong, taller than most of the men around her. In fact, had Yatke not known that she was
wikoskalaka

, he would have assumed she was
koskalaka

. The woman before him was a warrior and proud, though not vain or ill spirited.
She is a fine example of a warrior.

That thought surprised him and his anger seemed to drain away. Yatke looked around the killing field, locating his family. The woman in question was helping to slaughter one of his kills.
She has been wounded deep inside by the others, the people who had her before. She will never willingly accept my bed or bear my children.
Glancing down at the carcass of the white buffalo, he continued his train of thought.
It is only fitting that the
winyan