Lakota Winds (Zebra Historical Romance) (7 page)

Now, Chumani admitted, since her talk with the shaman and her
meeting with Wind Dancer in the forest, her thoughts roamed continuously to that matter. She told herself she should be concentrating only
on the words of Sees-Through-Mist from his contact with the Great
Spirit and on practicing her skills to be ready to meet that unknown
challenge, yet, dreams of that enchanting warrior haunted and distracted
her. There was no way their paths would ever cross again, at least not
as they did in her dreams. Soon she would be compelled to join to
another man, so she must forget him. Besides, he did not seem to like
or respect her and he would not make a compatible mate for her. If
the son of the Red Shields's chief did not already have a woman in his
tepee, which was doubtful at his age and rank, he would want one who
was silent, modest, and obedient; not someone like her. If she joined
to a man like that, she reasoned, it would not take long to be swallowed
up by him and to lose herself completely and forever, which did not
appeal to her.

Chumani took a deep breath. "Come, my friend," she said, "let us
go before my heart begs me to defy the will of Wakantanka."

"What do you mean, Dewdrops?" Zitkala asked in astonishment.

Chumani revealed what she had been thinking and her best friend
empathized with her fears and doubts. "Do not be afraid or uncertain,
Dewdrops. The Great Spirit will guide and protect you."

"Yes, but into the arms and tepee of a man I do not and cannot
love."

"Perhaps Wakantanka will place love in your heart for him."

How can that be when another man already lives there? Chumani's
troubled mind refuted, for the first time not sharing an important worry
with her best friend. "Come, let us return home and await His will for
me.

Wind Dancer and Nahemana reached the location they had chosen
for the next part of their spiritual journey, a place on the southern side
of the butte away from the sight of their temporary camp and three
helpers, a spot where they would face the setting and rising suns. As
Nahemana spread out his own blanket, upon which he would sit in its
center, Wind Dancer gazed out across the Plains and saw the woman
from the forest mounting a horse, accompanied by a man. Their garments were unmarked, so there was no way to determine which tribe
or band she belonged to, but he knew it was not to the Brave Hearts.
Surges of desire and jealousy swept through his body and mind, already
dazed by fasting and sweating. For a short time, he was tempted to race
down the slope or to shout her name, but it was wrong to do either,
for one person did not intrude upon the sacred rites of another, or halt
his own without an important reason after his body and mind had
already been prepared for his visionquest. He must put all thoughts of
her and other earthly matters aside and dwell only on his purpose for
being there in order for Wakantanka to speak to him. Yet, it was strange
that she had appeared to him for a second time.

Chumani did not know what force drew her gaze upward, but it was
a powerful, irresistible one. She sighted Wind Dancer with an elderly
man, both clad only in breechclouts and their dark bodies outlined
against a vivid blue sky. It was the younger warrior who captured her attention and caused her heart to race with excitement as her gaze
roamed over him. His raven-black hair was unbound and blew about
his head in a brisk wind. His tall body was virile and enticing. His
shoulders were broad, his Sun Dance-scarred chest was otherwise smooth
and hairless. His arms were muscular, his waist trim, and his legs long
and lithe. His stance revealed high rank and great strength and prowess.
Never had she seen a more handsome man. His dark and potent gaze
was fixed upon her, and she quivered despite the warmth of the late
afternoon. But as quickly as she experienced that strange reaction of
chillbumps splashing across her arms and legs, a fierce heat assailed her
flesh. She felt her nipples grow taut and her loins ache. She knew she
must break his visual hold over her and leave in a hurry, as he was a
formidable temptation and forbidden desire. Yet, that seemed impossible. Perhaps the Great Spirit had brought him there so she could also
say a final and necessary farewell to him.

Zitkala's gaze traced the path of her best friend's and saw what held
Chumani transfixed. She noted the flush on the other woman's cheeks
and fretted over the hot desire clearly revealed, a fire which could never
be fed and appeased, one which she must help extinguish. "Come,
Dewdrops, we must leave before evil medicine attacks us," she suggested
gently.

Chumani looked at her friend and confessed, "It has done so already,
but I will defeat it. Let us ride as swiftly as the deer flees an enemy."

Nehemana had already consumed his peyote and his mind was
reacting to its potency, but he noticed his grandson's distraction and
asked, "Who seeks to steal your eye and wits, micinksi?"

As he rubbed sweet sage and other ceremonial herbs over his upper
body, Wind Dancer disclosed, "It is the woman from the forest, Grandfather; she who called herself Morning Mist and eluded my tracking
skills. Is she flesh and blood or spirit, Wise One?"

Nahemana squinted to study the woman, but his eyes were too
clouded by age and his wits too ensnared by the peyote, along with her hasty retreat, for him to see her clearly. "I do not know, micinksi, but
we must continue our quest. You must forget all else at this time."

As Wind Dancer saw her ride away with her companion, perhaps
her husband, he took a seat on the center of his blanket and placed the
peyote in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed it, then awaited its
effect. The last thing he remembered was seeing a hawk swoop down
from the sky and land upon her outstretched arm as she headed for the
Black Hills and out of his life once more. His swirling thoughts vowed,
One day I will find you, beautiful mist of the morning, and I will make
you mine, even if I must steal you from another and hold you captive.

Nahemana sat on a mat in the tepee of Rising Bear to discuss his
vision with the chief. Also present were his two grandsons, his daughter,
his wife, and his thirteen-summers-old granddaughter. The three
women-his mate, Little Turtle, his eldest daughter and the chief's
wife, Winona, and his granddaughter, Hanmani-sat apart from the
four men to observe the event. They, like all Indians, were firm believers
in sacred visions. They were allowed to hear about matters which affected
the family and band, but-as females-they would not participate
verbally in the meeting.

The talk between the men would not include the seventeen-wintersold War Eagle; he was present only to listen and learn. The younger
man knew and accepted the fact that his older brother was the one
being reared and trained to become their next leader. Their family had
a tight bond and were fiercely loyal to each other, their kin, their band,
and their nation. As was their custom, the children and relatives of a
chief were the band's most important members, and leadership) ourneyed
through his bloodline, passing from father to the oldest son unless there
was a reason to ignore that practice. War Eagle was certain his beloved
brother would never do anything to dishonor himself, his family, and
his people. He was proud of Wind Dancer, and no jealousy or envy
lived in his body against him; to become their next chief was Wind
Dancer's birthright, destiny, and duty. True to his name, Waci Tate
"danced with the wind" as he lived and rode in pride and freedom, heeded to the "four virtues," honored the land and animals and Great
Spirit, challenged the powers and perils of the enemy, and soared upon
Father Sky's currents as a man above other men.

"Speak, Wise One," Rising Bear said, "tell us what Wakantanka
revealed to you in your vision."

Nahemana nodded and began his enlightenment. "In the directions
from which the sun rises and the winter winds are born, I saw our
enemies gathering as storm clouds to attack and destroy us, to claim
our hunting grounds as their own. The Great Spirit was angry. He sent
the Thunderbird to flap its great wings to scare them away, but they
did not hear its message. He sent fiery lances into their presence, but
they did not see His message. He sent Spirit Warriors to challenge
them; they did not flee; they only retreated to grow stronger to try
again. The Great Spirit sent a powerful wind war-dancing across the
sky; it swooped down and gathered dewdrops from the face of Mother
Earth and returned to the sky. Together they challenged our enemies
and frightened them away. A glorious rainbow appeared. The sun blazed
in joy. Victory was ours. That powerful force and duty lies in the hands
of he who dances with the wind, your oldest son and our next chief.
He must get Dewdrops, live and ride with her, and let her heal his
heart; only then will the Red Shields know peace."

Respectful children and wives remained silent as Rising Bear asked
questions that came quickly to his mind: "We have not heard of such
magic and big medicine. Those who lived before us did not pass along
such words to us, and that story is not painted upon our tribal buffalo
hide. Where will my son find the sacred Dewdrops, Wise One?"

"In the camp of the Brule White Shields," Nahemana answered.
"She must become his mate. That union will make him even stronger,
wiser, and more generous."

The baffled chief glanced at his oldest son before asking Nahemana,
"Dewdrops is a woman? He must take a Brule as his wife?"

"I know the names of the children of most Lakota chiefs; Tall Elk's
are Fire Walker and Dewdrops. Wakantanka showed us many things
separately, and together they tell us what must be done. We must ride to Tall Elk's camp and ask for an alliance, and for his daughter to bond
it to ours.

"Why the White Shield Band, Wise One?" Rising Bear asked. "We
have never allied with them in the past?"

"The Brules are members of the Seven Council Fires of the Lakotas.
Though the seven major tribes are divided into many bands and all live
and ride separately, we meet for seasonal trading fairs and unite for big
wars. But in the past when we allied with other bands from the Oglalas
or other tribes, we did not ride and work as one war party. Each side
wished to show superiority and to gather the most coups and prizes; it
cannot be so in our next conflicts with the Crow and Whites." Nahemana
breathed deeply before continuing. "I see and speak with many chiefs
and their warriors when we meet to talk or trade; it does not appear
the White Shield Brules think and ride as our past allies did. But there
is another reason: In his vision, Wind Dancer was told to make a new
shield to carry in the challenges before him; it was painted white. Upon
its surface he saw a yellow dewdrop and a large bird."

"The eagle, the ruler of the sky?" Rising Bear ventured.

"No, the hawk, a new spirit helper for his tasks ahead."

"What are those tasks, Wise One?"

"I do not know, for they have not been revealed to us. First, my
grandson must take another mate, one who will become his companion
in the challenges ahead. Wakantanka has chosen the daughter of Chief
Tall Elk to join with him and ride with him. If we are to obey the
Great Spirit's command and if we are to survive and become stronger,
it must be so."

As he heard the interpretation of his and his grandfather's visions,
Wind Dancer was troubled. What if this Dewdrops was unappealing,
barren, dull-witted, or already taken? But surely she could not be any
of those things or she would not have been chosen for him. But why
did Wakantanka select his next wife? Why could he not pick the
woman-one he desired and who had the skills to help him meet and
defeat his challenges? A woman like Morning Mist, his near defiant
heart whispered, if she were flesh and bone. Even if the Great Spirit's choice was a female warrior, how would a mere woman become his
successful companion in the face of such danger ahead? What, he
wondered, could only two people do to obtain glorious victory? But,
Wakantanka had spoken in the visions, so they must be obeyed.

Wind Dancer sat alone on a flat top boulder of black rock. Items to
be used for his task set nearby. Three suns had passed since his visionquest
began and he saw Morning Mist for the second and final time, one sun
since his grandfather had interpreted the visions to him and his family.
It was time to prepare for his coming journey. First, he must make a
new shield to carry with him and to use during his imminent challenge,
one such as both he and his grandfather had seen during their spiritual
quests.

As a sign of his virtue of generosity, he had given his old shield to
a warrior who had lost his own during a conflict with the Crow. At
the end of the last buffalo season, he had made a new hoop from a
supple sapling-as that shape showed that all things traveled in an
unending circle. From the sturdy hump section of six buffalos, he had
tanned and stretched those hides over the frame, then put it away until
the Great Spirit told him what symbols to place upon it. He would use
paints obtained from rocks, dirt, plants, and animals which lived upon
Mother Earth to show his eternal connection to and dependency upon
Her. The yellow came from buffalo gallstones and from ocher, as did
red and orange. Blue was from the wanhu and pokeberries. Other red
came from vermilion; black, from charcoal; green, from grasses; and
many more colors from clays and flowers. Sometimes the extracts and
particles were mixed with water, and other times, with grease or oil
from animals or plant stems. Usually those gathering and mixing chores
were done by females; his, by his mother and sister Hanmani, whose
name meant "To-walk-in-the-night."

As this was a reverent occasion, he had sought privacy away from
his friends and people. He lifted his gaze skyward and prayed, "Sun,
Moon, and All You Above Ones, listen and watch me as I work. This
shield I am making, give it of your sacred power so it will keep its owner safe in his encounters with the enemy who is seeking to destroy
Your People. Give its owner the skills and courage and wisdom to carry
out the will of Wakantanka. Charge it with strong medicine. Bless it
and the warrior who sits before You."