Charmed

by Catherine Hart

  At around two o’clock in the morning, the ceremonial drum was retired, but the dancers kept going, accompanied alternately by singers, flutes, and rattles made from turtle shells. Unable to keep her eyes open, Nikki napped sporadically, her head nestled against Silver Thorn’s shoulder. Every now and then, he would leave her, once to bring a blanket from their wigewa and a few times to join in the dances. Finally, as the rising sun was tinting the sky in pale hues of pink and gold, the drummer returned, signalling the closing dance. Appropriately, it was called the Morning Dance and could only be performed if the dancing had continued throughout the night.

  Silver Thorn tugged Nikki to her feet. “Come, love. Join me in the final dance.”

  “But I dozed off,” she said with a yawn. “Doesn’t that disqualify me?”

  “No. Others have also slept. It is not required that all stay awake, only that enough do so that the dances can proceed.”

  “Oh, okay.” She wobbled along beside him, positive that without his support she would have fallen on her face. She stopped and stood shaking one leg and foot. “Danged things fell asleep,” she grumbled.

  She wondered that she somehow made it through that last dance, stumbling and shuffling along like a big rag doll. At the end, there was a great outcry of the people in celebration for having successfully concluded the ritual. Weary but glad, they straggled off to their wigewas and their beds.

  Nikki rolled over in her sleep and threw out one arm in search of her husband. Her hand met only the roughly woven blanket, cool enough to tell her that Silver Thorn had risen some time before. She blinked sleepily and rose on her elbow to look around. He was not in the wigewa. She wondered where he might be. Perhaps out riding or maybe he’d decided to start building the sweat lodge.

  For a moment she debated going back to sleep, but a glance at her watch told her it was past noon. If she didn’t get up now, she would have a hard time getting to sleep tonight. She rubbed her eyes, and her hands came away blackened with mascara. “Twenty-four-hour mascara my foot!” she groused. “Only if you don’t mind walking around looking like an idiot!”

  Nikki wasn’t the only one. Once she’d dressed, she joined the other women at the bathing pool. Each of them was busily scrubbing the dark rings from around her eyes. Altogether, they looked like an entire pack of exhausted raccoons.

  “Sorry, ladies,” Nikki apologized. “I would have warned you what to expect, but this is a new brand and it’s not supposed to smear.”

  A couple of the women turned to glare at her. At least Nikki thought they did, but it was hard to tell if they were really peeved or if it were just an optical illusion due to their black-streaked faces. She was unlacing the front of her dress, preparatory to her morning bath, when Melassa stopped her.

  “No, Neeake. We are not bathing today, not with the soldiers at the village. Wet your cloth and wash your face and hands, but do not disrobe. We cannot be certain that one or more of them is not lurking nearby, spying on us. Nor would it be wise to wander about on your own today. Always be in the company of others, the larger the group the better.”

  Though it shouldn’t have been, Melassa’s sound advice came as something of a start to Nikki. Here, surrounded by family and friends, Nikki had forgotten the need to be cautious. This wasn’t something she was used to in her everyday life, coming as she did from an average, middle-class family. In her world, she was an American woman who, though not ashamed of her Indian heritage, passed for white. But here, she was Shawnee. In her time, her government was not at war with any other country. Here, at least part of her tribe was at war with the United States. Distrust flourished and danger abounded between the white Americans and the native tribes.

  Shaken anew, Nikki washed quickly and returned to the village in the company of the other women. With every step, she caught herself listening for the snap of a twig beneath a booted foot, probing the shadows along the wooded path with wary eyes. By the time they reached the village proper, her nerves were taut and her tongue laden with the sharp, unfamiliar tang of fear.

  The meeting between Harrison and the chiefs lasted until late afternoon. Outside the council lodge, life went on with as much normality as possible, with some modifications. Today, the women did not go to the fields to hoe and weed the crops. They kept their children near, rather than letting them have the run of the village. The men who were not in the conference did not go hunting or fishing as they might have otherwise. Traps were left temporarily unattended while the men gathered in groups to play dice or talk or just to work on small projects.

  Nikki noted that a number of the men were casually restringing their bows, feathering arrows, honing hunting knives, even cleaning guns—their weapons ever at hand. Just in case. It dawned on her that it was little wonder so many history books portrayed the Indian male as lazy. To the heedless eye, these Shawnee men must appear so as they laughed and gossiped and gambled the day away. But beneath the laughter lay keen vigilance. Beneath that relaxed facade, they were intensely alert. Watchful. Ready. Waiting.

  While Silver Thorn was in the meeting, Nikki visited with Konah and Melassa and the children. Her female relatives were unusually quiet, their faces drawn in tight lines, as Nikki knew hers must be. Every few minutes one of them would glance toward the council lodge with a worried expression. Just as often, someone would exhale heavily, as if weary of holding her breath. After three hours of fruitless waiting, Nikki had endured enough of the strained silence and the sighs.

  “This is ridiculous! I don’t know why we’re all so tense. We’re scaring ourselves silly for no good reason, don’t you think? Surely Silver Thorn would have warned us if he’d had any premonition of danger. Besides, from everything I’ve read about him, General Harrison is a good and honorable man, unlike some of his fellow leaders.”

  Beside her, Konah gave a mute shrug.

  Across from them, Melassa clutched her swollen stomach in a protective gesture toward her unborn babe. “I hope you are right, Neeake.”

  “Nothing happened yesterday. Or last night, for that matter,” Nikki hastened to say.

  “We did not sleep. We were awake and attentive,” Konah pointed out.

  “No more than we are now,” Nikki countered.

  Her comment was met with more sighs and silence. Nikki went back to nervously drumming her fingers on her knee. In the two years since she’d quit smoking, she’d never wanted a cigarette more than she did now.

  At long last, Harrison and the others exited the lodge. As the villagers watched, the conferees shook hands all around. The general’s smile was matched by the chiefs, and a collective wave of relief swept the camp. It was going to be all right after all. At least this time, with this army commander, with these tribal leaders. tomorrow or next month, it might turn out differently; but for now the truce would stand between the Americans and this peaceful body of Shawnee Indians who had chosen not to align themselves with Tecumseh.

  Nikki could have jumped for joy. She could have hugged each and every one of the chiefs. Her faith in Silver Thorn and his ability to predict danger, at least in this instance, had not been pinned on thin air. And her faith in General Harrison had not been misplaced. It seemed he truly was the just and fair man depicted in her history texts.

  On a sudden impulse, Nikki leapt to her feet and ran to her wigewa. From her purse, she took her ballpoint pen and a scrap of paper. Quickly, she scribbled a short note. It read:

  General Harrison,

  Enclosed with this note, you will find a pen. It is a novel invention, one of a kind. There are no others like it. The ink is already inside, in a tube. You need not fill it, and I regret to say that you cannot do so when it eventually runs dry. To use it, simply depress the small button on the back end. This will allow the point to appear at the other end. Press the point to the paper and write. If you use this pen prudently, perhaps there will still be ink in it when you become President of the United States. It pleases me greatly to think of you signing an important d
ocument with this gift—this small token of my esteem.

  Sincerely,

  A Friend

  Shaking with excitement, Nikki dashed from the wigewa before she lost her nerve. With an outward nonchalance that scarcely disguised her pounding heart, she sauntered to the area where the general’s horse was already being saddled. His saddlebags sat on the ground nearby. On the pretense of tripping over them, Nikki slipped the pen and the note inside the leather flap and went calmly on her way.

  Only afterward did she recall that the pen was one she had picked up at the opening of a new bank branch. What would Harrison think when he read the words Fifth-Third Bank on it? Heaven knew, she’d been confused at the name when she’d first heard it. It still sounded odd to her. Fifth-third? Was that a fifth of a third or the fifth third in a row or what? She imagined the poor general puzzling over the strange inscription for years to come.

  Chapter Eighteen

  By the following day, Silver Thorn had the sweat lodge set up for Nikki. Much to her surprise and relief, starvation really wasn’t a prerequisite. She did eat breakfast, albeit a light one. This being her first sweating, she wasn’t sure how her body would react to the new experience, and she certainly didn’t want to risk becoming either faint from a complete lack of nourishment or nauseous as a result of eating too much. Also, where a man might have worn just a breechcloth or gone naked into the lodge, Nikki chose to wear her T-shirt, which was long, soft, and loose enough not to be binding.

  Silver Thorn had heated the rocks, doused them with water, and left a large pot and dipper inside for further use. He had also sprinkled the hot rocks with sage and cedar needles, and when Nikki entered the lodge, she was immediately enveloped in a cloud of scented steam. “This is wonderful!” she declared. “Hot as Hell, but much more fragrant. My sinuses are going to love this, I can tell!”

  Just behind her, Silver Thorn entered the lodge and secured the entrance flap from the inside. As a spiritual leader, he often joined others in such purification rites, and now he was prepared to lead his wife through hers. He would act not only as her guide through the ritual, but also as interpreter if she received the vision she sought.

  Now he told her, “The cedar is used to aid in the purification of our minds and bodies. The sage, which represents the powers of Creation and the mysteries of our world, is an offering to the Spirits. It brings our minds and bodies closer to the Great Creator. Within the lodge, the four essential elements of life are all represented. The rocks symbolize Mother Earth, from which we are formed. The fire embodies the sun and its heat, which is also in our bodies. The air is the essence of our being, as is the water, upon which our bodies thrive. Nature and mortal, both formed of air and water, earth and heat, brought into perfect harmony.”

  He directed her to sit with her back propped against a low, padded backrest which resembled one of those squat beach chairs she’d seen people use and took a place for himself across from her. “Close your eyes and let yourself relax. Breathe deeply and let the herbs calm your inner self as the heat seeps into your body. Allow your mind to drift wherever it so desires.”

  “What if I fall asleep?” she asked.

  “Then rest well and dream sweet and know that I watch over you.”

  She smiled and settled herself more comfortably against the backrest. At first the heavy, sultry heat was oppressing. She wondered vaguely why they’d even needed to erect the sweat lodge since the early July weather nearly imitated the temperature and humidity in here. Perspiration began to pour out of her, quickly plastering her cotton T-shirt to her. It ran in rivulets down her sides, between her breasts and her legs, over her forehead, making her hair lie wet upon her skull.

  She imagined herself on a sandy beach, basking in the hot sun. The still air was moist and redolent with tropical spices and flowers. There was the soft thrum of a guitar in the background, the occasional hiss of the waves against the shore. Lazy contentment stole over her, robbing her of the will to move or even to think. She floated with it, steeping herself in the welcome lethargy. With each breath, she eased closer to slumber. Colors wafted across her closed lids, bright broken pieces of a kaleidoscope waiting to fall into place. She observed them with passive interest, wondering what picture they would finally form.

  Across from her, while Silver Thorn watched and waited, he quietly chanted a song to the Spirits, asking them to direct Neeake’s dreams. Periodically, he reached out to dip water onto the rocks, eliciting a hiss of fresh, aromatic steam. Soon, Neeake’s limbs lay limp. Her head lolled. Her breathing slowed.

  When he saw her eyes begin to dart back and forth beneath her lids, he knew she had begun to dream. Softly, lest he disturb her and cause the dream to flee, he murmured, “Tell me what you see, Neeake.”

  When she spoke, her words were slow and wispy, as if coming from a long distance. “I see a pink flower. A rose, I think, about a third unfurled from its bud. There is a silver thorn on the stem. And . . .”

  Silver Thorn waited.

  “There is another type of plant growing around the rose, or through it somehow. Sort of a grayish-green color. It seems somehow to be entwined with the rose.”

  Again she paused. Then she smiled.

  “What?” he prompted. “What else?”

  “A butterfly. The most beautiful butterfly I’ve ever seen. It’s similar to others I’ve seen; but instead of being black with orange or yellow, this one is sort of bronze with turquoise markings, with almost an iridescent quality about it. Ooh! How precious! It just landed on the rose, and it’s sitting there fluttering its wings, just resting and preening in the sunshine.”

  Neeake was silent after that, and Silver Thorn knew that the dream had ended, at least for the present. She slept for a short time more, then awoke feeling sluggish and very thirsty.

  “Come. The sweating is done for now,” he told her.

  “Does that mean I’m as pure as the driven snow?” she inquired, offering him a weary grin.

  “It means your mind is melting into silliness,” he countered. He swept her into his arms and carried her from the lodge.

  “Where to now, oh, mighty warrior?” she quipped, lying limp against his chest. She barely had the energy to loop her arms around his neck.

  “To the pool.”

  It took a moment for her steam-steeped brain to absorb that statement, and by then they were more than halfway along the path to the pool. “That sounds refreshing,” she murmured.

  It was actually more of a shock, albeit an invigorating one. With no preliminary splashing or sprinkling, Silver Thorn waded waist-deep into the water and then simply opened his arms and dropped her. To Nikki’s overheated body, the tepid water felt like ice, so great was the contrast between it and her skin. Her yelp of surprise sent a froth of bubbles rising to the surface, followed immediately by an irate Nikki.

  “You beast!” she screeched, flipping her dripping hair from her face. “You did that on purpose!”

  He didn’t bother to deny it. “It is part of the ritual, Neeake. I explained that to you earlier.”

  The immediate shock was already passing, as was her anger. Actually, the water felt wonderfully refreshing now that she was beginning to adjust to it. “I must have forgotten,” she admitted. “It was just so startling after becoming so relaxed.”

  For her quest, Nikki had chosen a peaceful place where the river ran through a meadow. There, in the shade beneath a leafy elm, surrounded by wildflowers, she tossed sage to the four winds and then seated herself in the cool grass. “Okay, now what do I do?”

  “Just sit and wait,” he replied. “And listen. Let yourself become one with the earth and the sky and all of nature.”

  “Should I close my eyes again?”

  “Only if you wish.” Silver Thorn backed away. “I will be nearby, guarding against intruders. If you need me, call out.”

  Left on her own to commune with nature, Nikki felt slightly ridiculous—like some throwback from the sixties hippie era. All
she lacked were a few strands of beads, a joint, and a wreath of flowers for her hair. What she needed was a good romance novel to help her pass the time. Of course, that might have directed her mind and emotions toward another type of “nature” altogether, so it was probably better that she didn’t have a book available.

  She tried concentrating on the beauty surrounding her. The grass was a vivid green with a pungency all its own. The earth, not yet parched by the hot summer sun, still held that wondrous moist smell. A light breeze was blowing in from across the river, gently rustling the leaves and the flowers, creating its own form of air-conditioning. The meadow was brimming with wildflowers, their colors mingling into a tangled rainbow, their combined fragrance more alluring than the finest perfume.

  Above her, birds sang happily in the trees and chased each other through the blue skies. From all around her came the sights and sounds of nature at work and at play. Bees hummed busily, dragonflies darted through the air, graceful butterflies flitted from flower to flower. From some distance away, she heard the rat-tat-tat of a woodpecker and the sharp chirrup of a squirrel—or maybe a chipmunk.

  A field mouse scurried past Nikki’s foot, eliciting a gasp from her as she hastily tucked her legs up and her shirt more closely about her legs. The mouse dashed off through the grass; and as she watched it warily, Nikki was rewarded by the sight of three rabbits, one adult and two youngsters, quietly munching grass nearby. No doubt they’d been there for some time, so successfully camouflaged that she simply hadn’t noticed them. She watched them, totally intrigued with the way their little noses twitched as they chewed and the way their ears seemed to pivot like ever-alert antennae, searching out sounds from every direction.