by Sandi Rog
She recalled a section in her favorite book where the Indians—men, women and children—all lined up to kill one of their enemies. It was fiction, but she couldn’t help but wonder how accurate it might have been.
“Will they want to kill me and Bet?”
“They’ll learn to accept you. They’ll respect the one who is to be my wife.”
To hear him use the word “wife” made it more real. But he had said he would take her to Denver City and that Cheyenne law meant nothing to white people, so they wouldn’t officially be married. Yet, wasn’t he Cheyenne? Didn’t his own laws mean anything to him?
As they neared the village, the children came to greet them first. Boys and girls alike had long, black hair, either braided or streaming loose down their backs. They stared with wide brown eyes.
One boy with a small bow and arrow in his hand moved in for a closer look. Another girl had a doll tied to her back with a sash. She and a few other girls stepped near the boy, staring at Anna.
Soon, women and other men emerged from their tipis or stopped the work they were doing. Some of the men’s chests were bare, while others wore fringed shirts. Some had buckskin leggings with flaps and fringe below the knee. Most of their gazes focused on her and Beth. They neither smiled nor frowned, sending a nervous tingle down her back.
White Eagle dismounted and lifted her as if she weighed nothing. When she glanced up at him, a warm, reassuring smile reflected in his eyes.
Once her feet touched the ground, she leaned against him—in part because of her sore ankle, but also in an effort to calm her trembling. He said they wouldn’t harm her. She should trust him. And if they tried anything, he was sure to protect her.
~*~
White Eagle held Anna so close, her loose strands of hair tickled his chin. The children swarmed in around him, all eyes on Anna. Some tugged on White Eagle’s arm, chattering and bursting with questions, but he ignored them as he watched Anna gaze at his people in wide-eyed awe, in the same manner the children gazed at her. She studied the loop earrings, the beaded silver necklaces and bracelets. Would she look down her nose at his people?
The children were especially curious about Anna’s yellow hair.
“Go ahead, touch it,” he finally said.
All at once, Little Fox, Runs With Wind, and the rest of the children reached their hands out and touched the ends of Anna’s hair. They babbled to one another with excitement as they stared in wonder.
Anna giggled.
“Her hair feels normal, only kind of dry,” Little Fox said, smoothing Anna’s locks between his fingers.
“Does it glow at night like the moon?” Runs With Wind asked.
White Eagle shook his head, stifling a chuckle at the children’s reaction to the unusual color. He had no doubt the adults wished to touch her hair as well, but only children could get away with such behavior.
“Are you going to scalp her?” Runs With Wind asked, jolting White Eagle from his pleasant thoughts.
“What is she saying?” Anna asked, obviously intrigued with the conversation they were having.
“She’d like a lock of your hair,” White Eagle said, clearing his throat. Then he turned back to Runs With Wind and the other children. “She’s going to be my wife.”
“Oh,” the children said, nodding and smiling in understanding.
Runs With Wind tugged on Anna’s hair until she bent down to meet the little girl’s face. She laid her hand on Anna’s cheek.
“I’d be happy to give her a lock of my hair.” Anna smiled and held the girl’s hand on her face.
White Eagle’s throat tightened. She didn’t show any sign of arrogance. Even her fear of them didn’t keep her from showing kindness to Runs With Wind.
White Eagle knelt and brushed his knuckles across the girl’s cheek. “This is Runs With Wind,” White Eagle said.
Runs With Wind looked up at her and grinned.
“Nice to meet you,” Anna said.
Running Cloud called the people’s attention. All the villagers grew quiet and listened. As he spoke and told the villagers of their engagement and to accept the two white women as their own, several glances were sent in Anna and Beth’s direction. Uneasiness reflected from Anna’s face, and the pulse quickened in her throat. He could only imagine how nervous she must be encountering an entire tribe of Indians.
When Running Cloud finished, the older children took the horses and led them away. Wanting to touch her and spare her ankle, White Eagle scooped Anna up into his arms and walked with her toward the lodges. A nervous giggle escaped her lips.
Children continued to swarm around her and Beth, touching both their dresses. A few women walked by, studying Anna and Beth.
“Even that small child’s ears are pierced.” Anna pointed at a baby held tight to one of the women’s back with a blanket. The woman handed the little boy or girl something to eat, and the baby grabbed the snack between his dimpled fingers and stuffed it into his mouth.
“They have no shame in showing their ankles, let alone half their legs,” Anna said, observing the women in their buckskin dresses which came just below their knees.
White Eagle cast Anna a side-glance.
“I remember Papa’s stories of Indians and their foreign dress, but to actually witness it in person is intriguing.”
White Eagle tried to see his people through Anna’s eyes. Some dresses were painted with elaborate designs, while most were plain, and the children dressed similar to the adults.
“Papa would be thrilled.”
White Eagle stifled a chuckle as he watched Anna take it all in.
Then her words hit him. Her father had contact with Indians? Who was her father? A tinge of guilt swept over him. White Eagle would want to kill any man who tried to kidnap one of his daughters. If he ever had a daughter.
As they came closer to the lodges, Anna pointed at the tightly drawn skins pinned together at the top, each forming a tipi.
“What are they made of?” She glanced up at White Eagle, her arms still around his neck.
“We use buffalo skins for our lodges.”
“You call them lodges? Fascinating. I always thought of a lodge as a wooden structure. Not as a tent.”
White Eagle reached Song Bird’s lodge. She waited outside for their arrival. “This is Song Bird,” White Eagle said, introducing Anna to the older woman. “Running Cloud says you’re to stay with her.”
Again, he tried to see his people through Anna’s eyes. Song Bird’s leathery face bore no smile, but she nodded. Her graying hair fell in braids over her shoulders, and golden hoops adorned her ears.
“She sprained her ankle,” he said to Song Bird, explaining why he was carrying Anna. He imagined most of his people thought she was lazy, but it was a nice excuse to be close to her. He motioned to Anna with his chin. “Yellow Leaf, our chief, is her husband,” he said.
Song Bird turned and ducked into her lodge.
“When your ankle heals, remember when you go into someone’s lodge, always walk to the left of the fire. Only men are to walk to the right. And never pass between the fire and someone sitting before it. The place of honor is to the left of the owner. He usually sits at the back of the lodge. Never take that place of honor unless it’s offered to you. To the left of the door is where everyone sleeps.”
“So much to remember,” Anna mumbled.
He grinned as he eased past the flap.
Yellow Leaf sat at the far end.
Anna cast a trembling smile at him.
Yellow Leaf studied Anna and motioned for them to come closer. White Eagle couldn’t help but notice how out of place Anna looked among his people, but as he set her down it occurred to him what a ray of sunshine she might be for the older couple. “You’ll become a daughter to them and carry out the duties of a daughter.”
“What duties?” Again, Anna’s eyes widened.
“Song Bird will show you.”
The lodge smelled of leather and burning wood. I
nviting to the senses.
“I feel so overdressed,” Anna mumbled, looking at Song Bird’s clothes. The dress came up over one shoulder, exposing the other. A flap draped over the front with a fringe. Her braided hair hung over her shoulders. “Not to mention, hot.” Anna fanned herself.
“Sit,” Song Bird said.
“She speaks English?” Anna turned to White Eagle.
“A little,” he said with the pride of a teacher.
~*~
That evening after White Eagle had retired to his own lodge, Anna sat before the fire with Song Bird and Yellow Leaf. The fire was small, just large enough to cook food. Feathers, quills, and cloth decorations hung from wooden stakes that formed the structure of the tipi, giving an unusual homey appearance.
Song Bird handed her a tin plate with meat. She recognized its smell as elk, and her mouth watered. The dried elk meat White Eagle had given her that first morning had been delicious.
Song Bird set a bowl of vegetables next to her. Yellow Leaf took an extra plate and bowl and held them up to the sky. He spoke a few words then placed the food on the ground next to the fire.
“We offer food to spirits,” Song Bird said.
Anna nodded, pondering her words, then their meaning hit like a bolt of lightning. She didn’t know what to say. She watched the plate, unsure what to expect. What did they expect? Did they expect the food to disappear? Did they expect ghosts to arrive and join them for dinner?
During the rest of the meal—and while Anna’s gaze darted to the offered food every so often—Song Bird and Yellow Leaf hardly spoke, and when they did, it was to each other in their own language.
Song Bird chuckled. “Tsevestoemose,” she said as she nodded toward Anna then nudged her husband.
Anna suspected the conversation was about her. She simply smiled and wondered what the jesting might be about.
“White Eagle,” Song Bird said, smiling. “You give him child. Make him husband and father. He be happy.”
Anna’s face went hot. Obviously, Song Bird knew nothing of her and White Eagle’s arrangement.
When everyone was finished, Yellow Leaf closed his eyes, hummed, and sang a short song. Anna sat with her legs crossed and her elbows on her knees as she listened in wonder to the unusual sounds coming from his mouth. When he stopped, he became quiet, solemn.
“What was that all about?” she dared whisper to Song Bird as she helped gather the bowls and plates.
“After meal, it our custom to offer prayer of thanks.”
That made sense, only Anna usually offered a prayer before a meal. But didn’t Yellow Leaf offer food to the spirits, as in more than One Spirit?
Oh, dear. An outsider. That’s what she was. And it weighed more heavily than their cultural differences. No longer was it just because they were Indian and she was white. What to do? She should say a prayer to thank God. She didn’t want Him to think she was paying homage to any other god but Him. To be safe, she did just that.
As she expressed her gratefulness for the food—and begged Him to take her to Denver City—she gazed into the fire. It fought off the chill of the evening and warmed her cheeks. The sparks snapped when Song Bird pushed around the smoldering logs. The orange glow captivated her as it rose higher from Song Bird’s care. Its hypnotic flame flickered before her eyes, tiny sparks shooting up and dropping back down like falling stars.
Anna watched Song Bird, feeling as though she not only cared for the flame, but for Anna. It amazed her that this couple would take her into their home. They accepted her and treated her as one of their own. Why would they accept a perfect stranger, especially someone from a different culture? A culture that brought nothing but grief to their people. It touched Anna in a way she couldn’t explain, and it frightened her.
She forced her mind on her mission. Denver City.
Anna’s eyes widened from staring at the blaze, and her body grew heavy. The aches, pains, and weariness from her travels swept over her like a blanket. Her ankle throbbed, and she longed to lie down. She hadn’t had one good night’s rest since she got off the train in Cheyenne.
Song Bird, seeming to sense that she was exhausted, helped her to the sleeping side of the lodge. Several buffalo skins and blankets were laid out, forming a bed. Song Bird showed her the blankets she could use and began to help her out of her dress.
Anna wasn’t about to undress with Yellow Leaf in the tipi. “Thank you for your help. I’ll be just fine.” She knelt on her bed and pulled the covers over her clothed body.
Song Bird frowned and shook her head.
Too tired to care what anybody thought of her strange sleeping habits, Anna closed her eyes, and like the flames of a candle slowly dying at the end of its wick, sleep claimed her.
~*~
Anna’s eyes fluttered open. Strange singing and drumming came from outside. She blinked and remembered where she was. It was dark, so she must have slept for a couple of hours. Yellow Leaf wasn’t to be seen, but Song Bird sat near, watching her.
“What’s that noise?” Anna asked, her voice cracking.
“They celebrate return of Running Cloud and men.”
“Running Cloud is also your chief?”
Song Bird shook her head. “He war chief. He protect tribe from white man. One chief.” She raised a finger. “Yellow Leaf.”
Yellow Leaf seemed so ordinary, just like the other Indian men. It was hard to imagine him as a chief. There was a quality of humbleness about him that seemed different from any white leader she’d ever met—not that she’d ever met any.
Song Bird’s English was pretty good. Maybe Anna could pry some information out of her. “Who is White Eagle? What can you tell me about him?”
“White Eagle father die. He have much sadness.” She held her fist to her chest for emphasis. “He have no family. You bring hope. Now he have family.”
Her heart went out to the man with whom she’d spent the last few days. He must have lost his father in a battle with the white men. Sadness engulfed her; she knew what it was like to lose a father.
“His mother die at Big Sandy.”
Anna’s blood froze.
Song Bird referred to what happened at Sand Creek. Her own people had killed his mother? How could White Eagle be so decent to her? She was lucky he didn’t scalp her the moment they met.
“White Eagle save Running Cloud life. He almost die. Now he called White Eagle.”
“White Eagle was there at Sand Creek . . . er . . . Big Sandy?”
“Yes. Mother of White Eagle save Runs With Wind. White Eagle find her. Save her life.”
How awful. Anna sat up and leaned in closer to Song Bird. Now she understood the special bond between White Eagle and the little girl who came to meet them upon their arrival. He and his mother saved her.
“Sun come up in sky.” Song Bird lifted her hand in the air. “We hear white soldiers. Many Cheyenne chiefs and Arapaho chief Left Hand. Chief White Antelope come out of lodge. He shout, ‘Stop!’ in white man’s tongue, but they not listen. He wear peace medal from Great White Father, Abraham Lincoln, and sing death song.” Song Bird sang, “‘Nothing live long, except earth and mountains.’ White Antelope die in front of lodge.
“Our chief, Black Kettle, want peace with white man. He set up big flag in middle of village so white soldiers know. He call everyone to stand by him. But shots fire from soldiers’ guns, and women run. Our braves stand to fight, and we hide children in nearby bushes, but white man come after us. White soldiers kill children in front of mothers’ eyes. Cries come up from ground as mothers weep for children. Cries stop when mothers also die.”
Song Bird rocked back and forth and hummed. She sang in a way Anna had never heard. It was similar to Yellow Leaf’s song of prayer and to the celebration sounds coming from outside, only this was a droning, mournful sound.
“They kill my daughter,” Song Bird said.
Anguish filled Anna’s heart. Tears of guilt welled in her eyes, blurring her vision.
<
br /> Song Bird continued to rock and sing.
“I’m so sorry,” Anna whispered, nearly choking on her words.
Song Bird didn’t seem to hear.
~*~
The following day, Anna sat outside the tipi with Song Bird and Runs With Wind, who smiled and chattered without stopping. Of course, Anna couldn’t understand a word the little girl said, so she just nodded and smiled occasionally, and that seemed to please the child.
Since Anna’s ankle still wasn’t healed, Song Bird had her do light tasks such as grinding roots and berries. Together with Runs With Wind, they crushed berries in a wooden dish using the smooth end of a short stick. Runs With Wind showed her how to mash the berries until the seeds and pits were thoroughly crushed. She gazed at Runs With Wind’s little brown hands as they worked with deliberation, contrasting with her own white, uncoordinated ones.
It made her think of White Eagle’s hands. She hadn’t seen him since they’d arrived. What was he doing? Would he come by Song Bird’s tipi . . . um . . . lodge that day? She decided she’d use the words of the Cheyenne in reference to their homes.
Beth had been taken to stay in another lodge—where, Anna didn’t know. And since she couldn’t walk, she had no way of going to look for her. Besides, the thought of wandering around the village on her own was daunting. What if someone didn’t like her because she was white? She certainly wouldn’t blame them. Would the fact that she was White Eagle’s fiancée really be enough to keep anyone from harming her? She prayed Beth was faring well.
Runs With Wind’s small fingers then pressed the crushed fruit into a thin, triangular cake about an inch wide. The girl looked up at her and smiled, her dark braids dangling over her shoulders. She motioned for Anna to do the same, showing her how to flatten the pulp and shape it into a triangle. Once Anna’s clumsy fingers could manage it, Runs With Wind continued with her own berries and sang a song. After singing the song one time through, she sang slowly and encouraged Anna to join in.
