With a sigh, Tanya reluctantly released her. The girl immediately threw herself, weeping, into Panther’s arms. Deciding she didn’t stand a chance of getting a word in edgewise, Tanya turned and headed back to her tethered horse.
“Wildcat!” Panther’s authoritative command halted her in her tracks.
Tanya turned, and could scarcely believe the anger she saw blazing in his ebony eyes. She waited silently.
“Who put the whip to your back?” he roared.
“Your little friend there.” Tanya nodded at the girl in his arms.
Panther pushed the girl from him. “Mountain Flower, who gave you permission to lash my woman?” he demanded.
The girl’s lips quivered and her eyes widened in disbelief. “She is a slave! She was about to steal your horse and escape!”
Panther’s eyes narrowed. “Did she not tell you I gave the mare to her?”
“Yes, but I knew she lied.”
“You would not hear the truth,” he insisted. “The horse is hers, and Wildcat is my woman. No one touches my woman or my horse unless I give permission.”
Mountain Flower stiffened. “How was I to know you would take a white woman into your tipi?” Her face showed her distaste.
“You know now. Do not let it happen again.”
“Your woman is very arrogant, Panther. You should teach her better behavior,” she shot back.
“This tops it,” Tanya muttered, bending to retrieve the forgotten whip. Stalking up to Mountain Flower, she stretched the leather against the girl’s throat. “I’ll tell you one thing, honey pot, you ever come near me again with this whip, and I’ll take it away from you and strangle you with it, with or without permission from anyone!” she threatened.
Mountain Flower sputtered and looked at Panther for help. Panther merely smiled and said, “That is why I call her Wildcat. Take heed, Mountain Flower, I think she means it. After your attack on her today, she probably feels you’d deserve it, and so do I. I will not stop her if you harm her again.”
Turning to Tanya, he said, “If you are done here, I suggest you return to the tipi.” At her hurt look, he continued softly, “Your wounds need tending to, my little spitting kitten.”
“Oh,” she said, blushing, “I thought you wanted your meal.”
Panther shot her a definitely suggestive look. “I do not believe I will starve, but that is not what I had in mind after I soothe your injuries.”
Tanya blushed even deeper and docilely followed Panther to the tipi.
By that evening, word of Panther’s woman had spread through other bands. No matter whose version was told, the end result was the same. It was clearly understood that Panther would brook no interference with his woman. Her status was not clear, but Wildcat was no mere slave.
Had it not been for Shy Deer and Walks-Like-A-Duck, Tanya would have been very lonely for female companionship throughout the next weeks. Though Panther’s own tribe accepted her presence and doubtful status with their chief 's nephew, the women did not socialize with her as they would a member of the tribe. Tanya was in her own no-man’s-land, neither slave nor Cheyenne, and she was thankful for Shy Deer’s and the old woman’s company.
Curiosity brought many women from the other tribes past Panther’s lodge, to catch a glimpse of the daring Little Wildcat. Stories of her capture and her courage had spread rapidly, growing with each retelling of the accounts, and they were eager to see the white woman who inspired the tales. None were willing to extend a hand in friendship yet, however, and certainly none wished to incite Panther’s anger by taunting this woman with the hair, eyes and purported temperament of the cougar.
To Tanya’s delight, the children were not so shy. Their avid curosity overcame any lingering timidity, and soon she felt like the Pied Piper of the village. Once they were assured she meant them no harm, they followed her everywhere, at first Tanya thought they came to taunt and tease, but soon realized they were merely drawn by curiosity, and a kind word and a smile wrought wonders.
It helped that she could communicate with them in their own tongue, and because of their constant chatter, her own language skills broadened daily. Before long, she found herself responding easily to their many questions, and was surprised one day to find herself thinking in Cheyenne, rather than first in English and having to translate her thoughts.
Panther was not unaware of Tanya’s attraction to the children, or theirs for her. Whenever he neared his tipi he would hear the laughter and the ringing of young voices. The little girls would sit about her and watch her tan or sew, sorting beads or cutting fringe for her, listening to the tales she wove for them as she worked. Sometimes she translated children’s songs for them. The boys gathered around to hear her tales too, but more often they showed up while she was cooking, hoping this would be the day Wildcat would make a batch of candy or sweetened cakes for them. They would help her gather firewood or haul water from the river, or tend the horses. Sometimes they fished or hunted for berries, each learning something from the other.
On one occasion, Panther found the boys teaching Tanya how to shoot their bows and arrows. He bit back a laugh at the look of intense concentration on her face as she took aim at her target. Her straight white teeth caught at her bottom lip, and her eyes narrowed as she sighted down the shaft. Out of sight, he watched for several minutes. With excellent instruction from her tutors, she did not do badly, especially considering neither the bow nor arrows were of a proper size and weight for her.
A few days later, Panther presented her with a bow and a quiver of arrows of her own. She had seen him working on them, but had no idea they were for her.
“These are the proper size and weight for you, Little Wildcat,” he told her. “The curve and tension of the bow and string are important, and the arrows must be straight; the feathering just so, for accuracy. The bow must be balanced, and the arrows also. I will show you how to hold the bow and draw the bowstring properly; the correct way to nock the arrow; the position your arms and shoulders should take. Then you must practice, and when you are proficient enough, I shall take you hunting.”
“You saw me practicing with the boys,” Tanya guessed with a rueful smile.
“Yes.”
“I will practice with these until I can hit my target every time,” she vowed, stroking the bow lovingly.
Then she threw herself into Panther’s arms, tears glistening in her golden eyes. “You are so good to me, Panther! I shall do everything in my power to make you happy!”
Panther stroked her bright head. “You do that now, Wildcat. You please me in more ways each day. Your eagerness to learn Cheyenne ways, the joy of discovery on your face, your delight in a new accomplishment, your willingness and your courage, and your loving attitude all please me and add joy to my days. Your eager caresses and kisses, your open and willing sharing when I join with you each evening, bring pleasure to my days and delight to my nights.”
He raised her glowing face to his, and lowered his lips to hers. “You are becoming as necessary as air to breathe and water to drink,” he whispered.
“And you are the food of my heart,” she replied softly as their lips met in mutual desire.
Tanya was appalled when Shy Deer explained the Sun Dance to her. “It’s barbaric!” she exclaimed.
Shy Deer merely shrugged and smiled. “It is our way,” she said simply.
“But for young men and boys to purposely subject their bodies to such torture!” Tanya still could not believe it. She shuddered as she recalled the matching scars on either side of Panther’s upper chest. She had never asked him how he had gotten them, and he had never volunteered the information, but she had often wondered about it. Now she knew. He had received them during the Sun Dance.
Two days previously, the men had ridden out in search of just the right tree for the center ceremonial pole of the Sun Dance. They had brought it back and erected it, and the head shaman had blessed it with mystical chants. Long rawhide ropes were connected to the top of the pole. To these lines, the skewers would be attached that would be laced into the chests of the young men.
“The skewers are laced through skin and muscle, one on each side of the chest; or sometimes only one in the center of the chest, but when this is done often the breast bone breaks during the dance,” Shy Deer explained calmly. “The skewers are attached to lines from the ceremonial pole, and the men are hoisted to dangle several feet off the ground, held only by the skewers in their chests. The weight of their bodies, combined with their agitated movements, causes the skewers to cut through their flesh. When the flesh is cut through, they fall. Many times the men decide to re-attach the skewers and dance again, but once is enough for most.”
“How do they stand the pain?” Tanya wanted to know, aghast.
“They prepare themselves for days before the ceremony. The young men who elect to participate, and often their families as well, fast. They pray alone or with the shaman in secret ceremonies, they sweat the impurities from their bodies in the sweat lodge, and smoke the ceremonial pipes, sometimes with the powders from the peyote buttons. They stay in the ceremonial lodge and have no contact with women during their preparations.”
Here Shy Deer gave Tanya a friendly wink. “Thank goodness most men only participate once in their lives, usually as young men about to become warriors. However, they may elect to participate again if they are seeking a personal quest or vision, or revenge, or for several other reasons. All the men usually take part in the ceremony in some way, whether they are going to dance in the air with the spirits or not. They fast, pray, smoke, and sweat together. They review their medicine bundles, seek visions, purify their bodies, chant, and go through other phases of the ceremonies in brotherhood with the chosen young men. It is a time of review and renewal for all of them; a time of thanks and a quest for courage and victory in battle and the hunt. The entire ceremony lasts for days, but only on the last day does the actual Sun Dance take place. The entire village turns out to watch.”
“Afterward, the men’s wounds are tended and bound, and in a day or two the tribes split into groups and we move to the plains to follow the buffalo.”
Tanya listened closely to all Shy Deer told her. Hesitantly, she asked, “Do the women have a ceremony where they must prove their courage?”
Shy Deer laughed. “No. As long as we tend their horses, their lodges, and their children, and are good wives, that is all they expect. If any of us exhibits courage, it is an added benefit. True, we are supposed to be loyal during an enemy attack or in times of trouble, but being women, they do not expect us to be daring and brave in the ways of a warrior.”
“That’s good!” Tanya heaved a sigh of relief, and both women laughed.
Then Shy Deer sobered.
“You
have courage, Little Wildcat. That is part of what makes you so special, I think.”
“I am not special,” Tanya denied.
Shy Deer disagreed. “Panther has waited a long time to choose a woman. I think he was waiting to find someone like you. A man such as he needs a woman of courage. How could a great warrior like Panther settle for less?”
Panther was thinking along the same lines. In fact, at that moment he was in the middle of a private conversation with his uncle, Chief Black Kettle.
“I want to make Little Wildcat my wife,” he informed his uncle.
Black Kettle shook his head in dismay. “You know what happened with your father, my brother. Once he had taken your mother as his wife, he was never the same. She cast her spell over him, and when she could no longer stand the Cheyenne way of life, he had to let her go. He took her back to her white family and you went with her. Also she took with her a vital part of White Antelope’s soul.”
“My mother’s family were Spaniards, Uncle, from Mexico,” Panther corrected, “not
gringos.”
Black Kettle ignored the interruption. “You were an infant at the time, and White Antelope felt your place was with your mother. It tore his heart out to part with the two of you. It was years before he married again, and even then his heart was not in it. He did it to please our father and to have more children. White Antelope lived for the summers when your mother would send you back to us. Each fall he died another death when you returned to the white world for your education. He was a great chief among our people, always working for peace with the whites, as I do. It is a great irony that he met his death at their hands when his heart lived among them from the day your mother left.”
Panther leaned forward, his face a portrait of sincerity. “My mother loved him, Black Kettle. She never married again. Always she had been faithful to my father, and grieved terribly upon his death. She just could not adjust to the Cheyenne life.”
“That is my point, Panther. Now you are asking to walk the same path your father trod. Have you learned nothing from his mistake?”
“Little Wildcat is different. Already she speaks our tongue. She never weeps for her lost life or the family she will never see again. She does not beg for her freedom. I have given her a horse and allow her to come and go about the village at will, yet she does not flee. She goes out of her way to learn our ways, she works well and hard and does not complain. Always, she is asking questions, thirsting for knowledge, wanting to learn new things. Her brain, her tongue, and her hands are quick to learn, and she has the courage to endure.”
Black Kettle sighed. “If you were any other warrior, it might not matter so much, but you are my nephew. As such, you will be a chief soon, and you have an obligation to our people. You are a great warrior, Panther. You have great courage. Already you are a leader. Men follow your lead without question. They trust you and believe in you.”
“Yes, but they follow Winter Bear also. He, too, is your nephew and will be a chief one day,” Panther pointed out.
“True,” Black Kettle conceded, “but I will hesitate to bless a union between you and Little Wildcat. Is it because of your white blood that you are attracted to her, I wonder? Why not keep her as your woman, but marry within the tribe? Marry a Cheyenne woman.”