Little Flower

by Jeanie P Johnson

  “What is that?” Mazy asked, pointing to the pouch still hanging around Daisy’s neck.

  “Oh, it holds little things that are important to me,” she explained.

  “Well, you can’t be wearing it now! Put it in the drawer with your underthings for safe keeping,” she suggested.

  Reluctantly, Daisy removed her pouch. She felt naked without it, but she didn’t want her mother snatching it from her. The neck of the dress was not high enough to cover it, so maybe Mazy was right to have her remove it.

  After the dress was placed over the many petticoats, her boots were replaced with slippers that matched the dress, which Daisy decided were at least more comfortable than the button up boots she had been wearing.

  “Sit down at the dressing table and I will fix your hair,” Mazy offered.

  When her braids were undone, Daisy’s long black hair ruffled around her shoulders. Then Mazy’s capable fingers were pulling the strands up, twisting them, pinning them and placing the hair on top of Daisy’s head in an attractive style. Daisy’s eyes widened as she watched the transformation in the little dressing mirror before her. When Mazy was finished, a stranger looked back at Daisy from the mirror. It couldn’t be her, she thought, as she stared at her reflection.

  “Now for the jewelry,” Mazy smiled as she opened up a small chest on the dresser nearby. “Pearls, I think,” she murmured, as she lifted a string of pearls from the little chest. “Oh good, your ears are already pierced, but you will have to take those rings out, so I can replace them with the pearls,” she told Daisy.

  Daisy placed the silver rings in her pouch. They had always remained in her ears since the day they had been placed there by Sky Lark, except for on special occasions during celebrations. It never occurred to her that she would have to replace them with some other earrings. The only time she took them off before was during ceremonies where strings of shells or other ear decorations were used as part of the celebration costume, but each piece of the costume had a specific meaning and was only used during those special events.

  Daisy felt the only special occasion now was her return to her family. That must be the celebration they were to participate in, she decided. The Indians celebrated with dancing and chanting. She remembered how her father had told her that after she arrived, they would have a big celebration to welcome her home. The thought excited, yet frightened her at the same time. She did not believe this was the big celebration he was speaking of, though, since he mentioned they would invite their friends to meet her. It must be a small celebration, she decided.

  At last, Mazy decided that Daisy was ready and led the way down the curved staircase and into the dining room, where Daisy discovered the family was anxiously awaiting her entrance. The moment she stepped into the room, her mother started clapping her hands.

  “Perfect! You look perfect. I knew that dress would suit you. Doesn’t she look pretty, Davy?” She turned to Daisy’s brother.

  He gave a crooked smile and shrugged. “She does look different now,” he admitted.

  “Come in and sit down,” Blake offered, bringing Daisy to a chair and pulling it out for her.

  Daisy’s heart was tripping away beneath all the frilly underthings and taffeta dress she wore. The corset was digging into her waist, though, and she longed to be rid of it.

  The room had grabbed her attention, being more elaborate than the entrance hall. The walls covered in red wallpaper, with raised, velvet designs astonished her. She longed to touch it, the same way she had touched the wrappings of her gifts. Accents in the room were of gold. Gold trim, gold vases, holding real plants, gold chandelier, gold, braided pulls for the red drapes, gold upholstery on the chairs. A huge centerpiece of red roses in a gold bowl rested on a long red and gold runner down the center of the table. It was the longest table Daisy had ever seen. She realized she hadn’t actually seen many tables except at the fort, and they were rather rough looking compared to the table that adorned the dining room in her parent’s house. The walls were filled with pictures in gold, gilded frames, which Daisy wished to examine longer as her eyes swept over them. They were mostly of woodland scenes or animals. It made her long for open country and the life she was leaving behind.

  The dishes were something else Daisy hadn’t expected. She had always used a single, wooden bowl with a bone spoon, which she washed when she was through using it. This was nothing like the tin plates they had used on their journey here. She was afraid to touch anything. The gold cutlery sparkled up at her, but she wasn’t sure which one she was expected to use, there were so many placed beside her plate. Why they would need more than a simple spoon, puzzled her. The dishes, themselves, were cream with gold designs dancing around the edges of the plates. The glasses were carved, clear crystal, something Daisy had never seen before. They looked so delicate that she was sure they would snap beneath her fingers, like icicles, if she dared pick one up. She was afraid of dropping one if she actually used it. All she could do was sit and stare at her surroundings.

  Davy sat across the table, grinning at her, once again seeming to enjoy her confusion. “I suppose you have never sat at a proper table before, have you?” he said.

  Daisy merely shook her head.

  “Well, it can’t be that hard. When the food is served, all you have to do is eat it,” he half laughed.

  With which fork or spoon, Daisy wondered, the very situation intimidating her. She longed to be sitting cross-legged around a warm fire in the lodge of Chief Beaver and Sky Lark, eating her food out of her familiar wooden bowl. As her worried thoughts rambled through her head, the door was opened and men dressed in black suits with bows at their necks came into the room bringing silver, covered containers. When they lifted the lids, Daisy was astonished by the variety of food the containers held. The food was served upon the plates of those sitting around the table. Daisy did not recognize any of the food that was placed on her plate.

  She had been used to buffalo stew, made with roots and corn, cooked in a stomach pouch, which was simmered for hours over the fire. Then it was dished up into her single bowl and the single bowls of the other members of the family. When there was only a little stew left in the stomach pouch, even the pouch was eaten along with the stew. There was no waste of food in the tribe. In the winter she ate jerky and mush made with ground corn or pine nuts. Sometimes, fresh meat was served when the hunters managed to find game during the winter. When game could not be found fish would be eaten, but fish was not their favorite choice for a meal.

  Springtime brought berries, which were added to cakes made from corn flour. When the buffalo returned, the first spring hunt brought fresh meat to share among the tribe. Here there was an abundance of food, as though it never ran out.

  Daisy watched to see which utensil Davy used. She could tell he knew she was watching, as his hand started to pick up one shiny fork, and then moved to a spoon, trying to confuse Daisy even more, so she merely sat with her hands in her lap, looking at the food, artistically placed on her plate.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” her mother asked, looking at her from one end of the table. Her father sat at the other end, but he seemed preoccupied as he started cutting his meat.

  Daisy watched him and decided to copy his actions, picking up her knife and one of the forks to achieve the accomplishment. Davy grinned broadly at her and winked. She watched as her father lifted his glass, which held a red liquid that had been poured into the glasses from a fancy container with a narrow neck, the likes of which Daisy had never seen before. She braved picking up her glass and took a sip, and then started coughing. It tasted like spoiled berry juice. It reminded her of what the men of her tribe sometimes drank during their rituals.

  Davy laughed at the shocked look on her face. “It is merely wine,” he explained. “Father lets me have some on special occasions. This is a special occasion, so enjoy it while you can.”

  She didn’t know how a person could enjoy the bitter drink, Daisy thought as she set her glass down
onto the table again. She reached for the glass which contained water and drank it instead.

  The meat and strange-looking vegetables, along with fruit she had never seen before tasted pleasing to Daisy, though. She especially liked the pieces of orange and red melon, which Davy called cantaloupe and watermelon. It was something that grew there in the warm weather along the coast, her mother explained.

  “It does not snow here like it does where you were found,” Rebeca explained. “Because it is warmer here, there are a lot of things that grow here which don’t grow in other places in the States and territories. There are oranges, lemons, melons all sorts of berries that grow practically year round here. We never have a shortage of food. We can even grow some of it in our own gardens. We have grapes, which the wine is made from, cucumbers, we make into pickles, apples, apricots, plums, all growing in our own back yard.”

  Daisy’s eyes were wide with disbelief.

  “I’ll show you, after you are through eating, Davy offered. We can check on your dog and horse while we are about it.”

  “Yes, I would like that,” Daisy smiled, thinking that perhaps Davy was willing to become her friend after all.

  CHAPTER NINE

  A storm was coming. It matched the thunder that was pounding in Gray Wolf’s chest, threatening to deafen him as it filled his ears with the pounding. His fists clinched and unclenched, as he tried to gain a rein on his emotions. He could not disrespect his father, but he hated him for allowing Little Flower to be taken away.

  The sad eyes of Chief Beaver told Gray Wolf that he was feeling as upset as his son seemed to be feeling. His hands had been tied. The white men had threatened the whole village if he did not release Little Flower to them. Only Little Flower seemed anxious to go, he explained to his son. It was not right that they keep her from her rightful parents. Had his own daughter been taken by the whites, he would have wanted her returned as well.

  “Talking Dog has betrayed me,” Gray Wolf growled in disgust. “It is no wonder Little Flower wanted to leave. He took her against her will. I should have been here to protect her!”

  “Your place was on the hunt. Talking Dog will be punished for his treatment of my adopted daughter! If our daughters cannot be safe in their own village, how can we call ourselves People of the Earth? If we cannot control our youth, what will they become when they turn to men?” Chief Beaver’s eyes were cold and hard. He would make sure the Council dealt with Talking Dog.

  “I wish to go after Little Flower,” Gray Wolf insisted. “She was worried that I did not love her. She asked me before I left on the hunt and I shunned her because my spirit was anxious to hunt the buffalo. I put her off and said we would speak of it later. Only now, there is no way for us to speak of it at all. I have to let her know!”

  “Hold your heart, my son. Perhaps it is better this way. Little Flower was only our adopted daughter. You were promised to Merry Morning. She will make you a good wife.”

  “Never!” The word came out like the storm that was brewing in Gray Wolf’s heart, to match the thunder in the distance. “She also betrayed me! It is her doing that Little Flower’s father came to claim her. She told a white person at the fort where he could find her. She wanted Little Flower gone so I would take her as my wife. Therefore I will never choose her. I will never choose anyone if I can’t have Little Flower as my woman.”

  “Let your heart calm. Go on a vision quest. Ask the Great Spirit, Wahcondakah, for answers. You will be part of the Sun Dance soon. Once you become a man, you will be better prepared to face your future.”

  “If I don’t go after her soon, she may forget me! She may want to remain with her white family and turn from the way of the Sioux. Someone else will take her as their woman. I cannot risk that!” Gray Wolf began pacing like the wolf he was named after, his face contorted with anger and anguish, feeling helpless for the first time in his life.

  “Go then and find a vision in the wind. Follow the spirit and let it help you decide what is to be done,” his father murmured, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Go to the sweat lodge and prepare yourself, smudge with pine needles, dip in the river, before you leave. Keep an eye single to the Great Spirit and listen for the whispers from above to guide you.”

  Gray Wolf bowed his head. His father was right. He needed a vision. He would listen to the wisdom of his father and ask the Great Spirit to guide him. Then he would know what he should do. If he was to find Little Flower, he would need the Great Spirit to help him. Otherwise he would remain with his tribe, never to find happiness again, he was certain. He went to the sweat lodge to prepare himself, knowing the ritual he must follow.

  Gray Wolf first went to the river to bathe, he scrubbed his nails, purified himself further in the sacred smudge of burning pine needles. Now he applied a coating of white clay over his body to remove as much of his human scent as possible. The spirits who would come in a vison did not like the smell of men.

  Next he would go to the sweat lodge. It would call all powers of the universe into play; earth, and the things which come from the earth such as water, fire, and rocks, also the sky and its celestial dwellers. The water represented the thunder being who came in a breath-taking way, while bringing a kind of goodness from the bubbling stream that came from the hot mountain rocks, within, which was fire. This would all be duplicated in the sweat lodge. The heat and fire, along with water coupled with prayer purified him so he might strive to live as the Spirit willed. With this he may be sent a powerful vision.

  When it was time for Gray Wolf to pour the dippers of water over the hot rocks, which had been heated in a pit, and then brought into the lodge with a forked stick, he would think of the Great Mystery, who was always flowing as a stream, giving His power and life to everything.

  The willow branches used to construct the lodge taught him a lesson. In the fall the leaves of the willow tree dried and returned to the earth, but in the spring they came to life again. So too, men died but lived again in the real world of God, where there was nothing but the eternal spirits of deceased things. If he purified his body and mind, he could come closer to the Great Spirit, or Mystery, who is all purity. Also, the willow branches were set up in such a way that they marked the four quarters of the universe. The sky above was contained within it, so that being purified it could serve as a messenger to carry man’s voice up to God.

  The rocks were used to represent Grandmother Earth, from whom all fruits came, and thus the eternal nature of the providential Spirit. The fire used to heat the rocks was a ray from the sun, and represented the great power of the Spirit which imparts growth and enlightenment through the sun to all things.

  To build the fire he placed four sticks running ease and west, and on top of them, four more sticks running north and south. Around them he leaned a cone of sticks. Rocks were then placed at the four directions, and more sticks were piled on top. As he kindled the fire, he prayed in such a way as to acknowledge the creative and preservative power of God, now to be made manifest through the sweat bath.

  The shallow hole, which was made in the center of the sweat lodge to receive the rocks, designated the center of the universe where the Great Spirit Himself dwells. All the things employed in the sweat rite were holy to him and must be thoroughly understood if he hoped to purify himself.

  Like all the teepees in the village, the door of the sweat lodge was always facing toward the east. The place where he heated the rocks was called ‘fire of no end’.

  When making the hole that would receive the hot rocks, Gray Wolf drove a stake into the earth and used it as a compass point to draw a circle with a rawhide cord, connected to a stick. As he did so, he prayed again, this time for his prayers to be heard and for a final resurrection of his soul to be with Him in the heavenly place.

  The earth taken out of the hole was used to form a narrow, sacred, path leading out of the lodge to the east, at the end of which a small mound of dirt was built. Once again he prayed. The path was called ‘the sacred path of
life,’ and as he walked it, his steps represented his plea for mercy and protection throughout the days of his life.

  Gray Wolf entered the lodge, with his sacred pipe. He made an altar of the central hole by placing pinches of tobacco at its four corners. Then he burned sweet grass, rubbing his entire self and the pipe with the smoke, which drove all evil things from the lodge.

  Gray Wolf placed himself on the sage branches he had placed in the lodge in front of the rock pit. Beside him was a container of water and a dipper. He pulled the smoke from his pipe into his lungs, saying a prayer as he did so. After several puffs, he closed the door of the lodge, plunging himself into darkness, which symbolized man’s ignorance. The door would be opened four times, during the ritual to signify permitting the light of wisdom to be received in each of the four great ages of mankind’s evolution to enter and sweep away the ignorance.

  Everything would be followed according to tradition. Gray Wolf said a prayer as four dippers of water were poured on the hot rocks to create steam. After a while, he opened the flap and let in the light and fresh air, then closed it again. This time seven dippers of water were poured on the rocks along with his second prayer. Once again the door was opened. Then ten dippers of water were poured over the rocks… another opening of the door. Now an indefinite number of dippers were poured over the rocks and this was called ‘million wishes’.

  By this time, the hut was so hot that Gray Wolf had to sit with his head between his knees to endure it. Once the body was purified, he would go and plunge into the river and then would go to a secluded place to request a vision.

  The Sweat lodge itself represented his body. The steam from the rocks and smoke from the pine needles and grass represented his image. The first four dippers of water symbolized his arms and legs. The next seven dippers became the Big Dipper in the heavens. The ten dippers represented the cluster stars and the indefinite number of dippers stood for the ‘other-side-camp’ where one went when they died.