Wild Ecstasy (13 page)

“O Great Spirit, what am I to do?” Echohawk said in a troubled whisper, lifting his eyes to the heavens, yet seeing with his impaired eyesight only the blur of the moon smeared across the sky in strange, quivering whites. “Am I selfish for thinking of a woman now, at a time when my thoughts should only be on my people's sorrows? I cannot get her off my mind! She is there. Day and night. I have not wanted a woman as much since my beloved wife departed from this earth.”

He swallowed hard, then continued voicing his concerns in agonizing whispers. “I do not want to love a white woman!” he despaired. “In my mind and heart I despise the white race for the cruelty inflicted on my people. Yet No-din is separate from those evil ones! She is not responsible for any of my hurts. Yet somehow I cannot erase from my mind that she is an enemy because her skin is the color of those who are!”

Not getting any signs from the heavens which could give him answers and direction, he spoke awhile longer, telling his sorrows to the rock and stars, then stretched out on the ground, fatigued.

“
Wah-bungh
, tomorrow,” he whispered to himself. “I shall receive answers tomorrow. I shall stay and wait for those answers!”

A noise behind him drew him to his feet. He whirled around, wary. “Who is there?” he asked guardedly.

“It is I, Proud Thunder,” one of his most valiant braves said. “Echohawk, it is with a sad heart that upon our return from the hunt we braves found our ravaged village. We have searched for you and our people. We have finally found you. Tell us, Echohawk. What of your father, my chief? Echohawk, the Great Spirit has led us to you. We are all here to listen.”

Echohawk reached a hand out and found Proud Thunder's shoulder and clasped his hand to it. “
Ay-uh
, the Great Spirit led you to me tonight,” he said softly, marveling over this miracle and feeling guilty that his thoughts only moments ago had been only on No-din!

Not of his people. His braves.

So often of late his thoughts strayed, and always to No-din!

“Proud Thunder,” he said firmly, “let me tell you the extent of our people's sorrows.”

Chapter 13

—Bulwer-Lytton

 

 

 

The wind pushed dark clouds across the autumn sky—a deer paused on a ridge close by. The river was like a clear mirror, the surface only slightly ruffled by the waves made by many canoes slicing through the water, all crewed by women.

Mariah was only half-aware of moving the paddle in and out of the water, Nee-kah sitting beside her in the canoe, doing the same, a woman kneeling at the stern, both paddling and steering the vessel. Mariah's thoughts were not on the chore at hand—the
manomin
, wild rice, that she would soon be helping the Chippewa women to harvest.

Mariah had spent a sleepless night,
still
worrying about Echohawk. And when she had discovered that he had not returned home at all through the night, her worries had increased twofold. She would never forget how defenseless he had been against the rabid wolf that she killed before it got close enough to attack him. Last night the wolves were howling in the distance incessantly. What if they had sniffed out Echohawk while he was absorbed in his meditating?

“Is it not beautiful here in the river, with the autumn foliage reflecting like bursts of sunshine in the water?” Nee-kah said, smiling over at Mariah. “Are you not glad that you came with me? Has it helped get your mind off Echohawk?”

Mariah smiled weakly at Nee-kah, pausing momentarily in her paddling. “It is beautiful here,” she murmured. “But, no, it has not gotten my mind off Echohawk. I doubt if anything would.” She then added quickly, “I do appreciate you asking me. You are ever so kind, always, to me. I'm not sure if I deserve such a friendship as yours.”

“Your friendship is cherished by me, No-din,” Nee-kah said, reaching over to place a hand on Mariah's shoulder. “Mine to you is enduring,
ah-pah-nay
, forever.”

Mariah's eyes wavered and she looked away from Nee-kah, worrying again about Nee-kah's reaction when she would one day discover exactly who this “friend” was.

Then she looked slowly back over at Nee-kah. “Mine, also, to you is as enduring,” she said, wishing their promises to each other could be true, as everlasting as they both wished.

But too soon so many things could change—especially such friendships.

Her paddle dipped smoothly into the water as they continued traveling upstream between tree-lined banks. The canoes were made with a birchbark box in the middle and used only for the wild-rice harvests, the flails lying in the bottom of the box.

A blue-gray kingfisher that lived along the river, nesting in the banks, swept from a high bank to Mariah's right and hovered above the river. Then he dived into the water, appearing a moment later with a fish struggling in his long black bill.

And then the wild rice came into view, the canoes moving steadily toward it.

“
Ee-nah-bin
, look!” Nee-kah said, her eyes beaming. “Have you ever seen such a sight, No-din? See how the wild rice grows so abundantly in the shallow waters of the river? The plants are so heavy with rice this year! And they are the tallest I have ever seen. They must stand twelve feet above the water.”

“Rice is an important food of the Chippewa?” Mariah asked as they finally reached the rice, and along with the other canoes, began poling their vessel among the plants.

“
Ay-uh
, my people would not survive without rice,” Nee-kah said. “We eat it with almost every meal, either in soup or alongside fish or meat. My favorite way to prepare rice is to boil it and then mix it with maple sugar. It is delicious.”

Mariah was amazed at the ingenious way the women harvested the rice. Nee-kah told her that earlier in the fall the women had prepared the rice by tying the stalks together in clumps. Now all they had to do was use their long curved flails to hook the stalks and bend them over the boats. This was the purpose of the birchbark box that was built in the center of each canoe. As the women shook the heavily laden stalks, the wild rice fell right into the box, quickly filling it with their harvest.

Mariah was glad to have something productive to do, which, for the moment, did lighten the burden of her worries about Echohawk. She became absorbed in the process of the harvest, now paddling their heavily laden canoe toward shore.

Once there, the women used wooden buckets to pour the rice into lined trenches. Next, they beat the grain with their flails to loosen it from the husks and then winnowed it in the breeze, using bark trays.

Nee-kah explained that the rice would be left for several days to dry on mats in the sun. During this time, they would all pray for clear weather so the harvest would not be spoiled. Then the women would take turns watching the fire while the rice was parched in big kettles to split open the hard outer hulls.

And again they rowed back to the stalks of rice, and the process was repeated. Even though there was a lot of work involved in collecting and preparing the rice, Mariah was enjoying her day, and for the moment was able to place Echohawk from her mind if not her heart.

* * *

In another part of the forest, Mariah was the center of Echohawk's thoughts. He had directed Proud Thunder and his other braves to Chief Silver Wing's village to rejoin their relatives. A blessed thing, Echohawk had thought upon seeing Proud Thunder, that the Great Spirit would send him in his time of meditation.

During his long vigil in the forest the previous night, he had recalled many things, yet resolved nothing within his troubled heart and mind. He was haunted by his father's words spoken to him over and over again this past year—that it was time for him to take a wife so that a son might be born to him to help ensure the future of his people.

Deep inside himself, where his desires were formed, he knew that he had chosen a woman for a wife—No-din. She was the only woman who stirred his passion since the passing of his lovely wife.

“But why must she be white!” he whispered remorsefully through his clenched teeth, his hands circled into tight fists at his sides.

Then he rose slowly from his prostrate position and took a small buckskin pouch from the waist of his fringed breeches. Again he sprinkled tobacco from it onto a rock, an offering to the Great Spirit. He moved to a kneeling position and raised his eyes to the heavens, his heart pounding. The sighing of pines came to him as the rustle of eagle wings, to help carry his cries to loftier heights. The whispering winds told his tale to the clouds. He then uttered the cry of his soul to the Great Spirit.

“Great Spirit, you who guide my every thought and action, hear my pleas!” he cried. “My heart is heavy! Give me strength and courage to guide my people in this, their time of sorrow. Give me a sign that will free me of my bitterness and allow me to love the white woman without resentment.” He bowed his head humbly. “O Great Spirit, I thank you for sending Proud Thunder and my braves to me, but I have waited all night long for another sign. Is there not to be one? Must I return to my dwelling without your blessing? Do I not deserve such a blessing? Am I wrong to ask for so many things?”

A close-by noise, coming from the direction of the river, drew Echohawk's head up. His pulse raced and hope rose within him that the Great Spirit had heard, and had finally sent him a vision.

Suddenly, through the haze of his impaired eyesight, he could see movement ahead. Trembling, he was awe-struck by what was now within the sphere of his vision. He watched breathlessly as his eyes suddenly cleared to see a snow-white doe followed by a fawn of the same color.

Surely it was a vision, for he could not believe that this was truly happening. One moment he was alone, and the next moment he was in the presence of a mystical phenomenon. The creatures were there so suddenly, it seemed that they had come out of the water!

Echohawk slowly pushed himself up to a standing position and stood rooted to the ground, never taking his eyes off the beautiful animals. And he, who had never feared the face of man, was trembling like an aspen with terror!

The animals, seemingly unaware of Echohawk's presence, advanced slowly toward him, and passed so near that he might have touched them with his hand. But transfixed by wonder, he did not attempt it.

Slowly he turned and watched them as they ascended the bank, soon losing sight of them.

When he recovered from the shock, he stretched out his arms after them. “Do not leave me!” he cried. “Come back. Let me see you again!”

Having regained the use of his limbs, he rushed up the bank, but did not see them.

Humbled by the experience, he fell to his knees and smiled as he looked to the heavens. “O Great Spirit, thank you!” he cried, appreciating the meaning of what he had just witnessed. The white doe was No-din and the fawn must represent their future child. He was suddenly feeling great rushes of happiness throughout him. He was free to love—to love No-din!

And freed, also, was he of the other burdens of his heart. He knew now that he had the power—the courage—required of him to guide his people.

And he also knew that in time his eyesight would be restored. Had not the Great Spirit allowed him his eyesight long enough to witness the vision? In due time, when the Great Spirit deemed it necessary, his eyesight would return—to be his forever!

An anxiousness suddenly seized him. “No-din,” he whispered, his heart soaring. “I must go to No-din. There is so much to say to her that I was not free to say before.”

His chin held high, feeling blessed and guided by the Great Spirit's power, Echohawk began running in the direction of the village. “No-din will be mine!” he shouted, so that everything would share in his happiness.

He shouted to the wind . . .

the sky . . .

the trees . . .

the forest animals!

* * *

Her arms and back aching from her long day of rice harvesting, Mariah slipped a clean buckskin dress over her head. It fell below her calves, belted at the waist with a beaded thong, a fringe at each end. She pulled on fringed knee-high moccasins resplendent with colorful beads. Her skin smelled clean, like the river, after her bath. Her hair was dripping and fragrant from Nee-kah's precious soap.

After getting dressed, she began running the comb that Nee-kah had lent her through her hair, wincing when again she was reminded of how short it was.

Laying the comb aside and picking up a mirror, Mariah began practicing with bloodroot juice, dabbing it onto her cheeks to redden them. She needed to do something to keep her worries about Echohawk from worsening. It was now midday, and still he had not returned. She did not want to envision him lying injured or dead in the midst of the forest. She would not allow herself to conjure up any more fears. He was a man of the forest. He was in tune with all nature, and he knew how to survive within it.

A noise at the entrance flap drew Mariah's eyes away from her reflection in the mirror. An anxious blush, even more red than the juice of the bloodroot that she had dotted onto her cheeks, rose from her neck upward when she found Echohawk standing in the doorway smiling down at her.

“You have returned,” Mariah said, moving shakily to her feet. She so badly wanted to go to him and lunge into his arms. She wanted to cling to him and never let him go again. Never had she been as relieved as now. He was alive! He was well! And he was smiling at her as though all of the burdens that had been troubling him had been lifted!

“
Mah-bee-szhon
, come,” Echohawk said, going to her to take her hands. “Come with me to my lodge. There I will say many things to you. There you will have decisions to make and answers to give.”

Caught up in an ecstasy that just being with him evoked, and speechless, Mariah nodded and went with him to his wigwam. There she found the air scented sweetly with the perfume of sweet grasses that burned in the embers of his lodge fire. There she found many beautiful pelts strewn around the fire. There she found platters piled high with all sorts of delicacies.

There she found herself being held within Echohawk's arms as he led her down beside the fire, seeing a blissful peace within his eyes and in the soft smile that he gave her.

“We shall eat, and then, No-din, there is so much I wish to say to you,” Echohawk said, releasing her from his embrace.

They sat down side by side and ate in silence. Mariah's heart raced excitedly, so happy that Echohawk had reached some sort of peace with his Great Spirit, and within himself. She only wished that she could come to the same sort of peace within her own self!

Her God seemed to be taking longer to answer her prayers than Echohawk's.

After they had eaten their fill, Echohawk lifted Mariah onto his lap, facing him, his hands holding her there at her waist. “No-din, the Great Spirit gave me a vision while in the forest,” he said eagerly. “This vision gave me hope—and courage. No-din, I have come away from that vision with a happy heart, one that I wish to share with you for a lifetime.”

Mariah's pulse raced and her head was reeling with the wonder of the moment, anxious to hear what else he had to say, yet also fearing it. Because of who she truly was, she had many things to fear in Echohawk's presence.

“No-din, woman of the wind, be the ‘flower of my wigwam,' ” he said softly.

Mariah was taken aback, not having expected this. She was stunned speechless. Marriage? That was what he meant?

She knew that marriage to him was an impossible dream. She had lied to him about her true identity. For so many reasons she could not accept a proposal that her very soul cried out for!