Spirit of the Sky

by Paty Jager

  He had to tell Colonel Gibbon the Nez Perce were moving out. Wade stood. The sound of rushing water swooshed in his ears and the world went black. He hugged a tree with his good arm until his senses became balanced and the world focused before him swathed in sunshine.

  The neckerchief sported more red than its original yellow color. He’d grown weak from loss of blood, but he had to get to Gibbon.

  He pushed off the tree, and using the bushes and gullies started a slow ascent of the hill, trying to circle around hidden areas where Indians could lay in ambush.

  Lepít

  (2)

  Sa-qan perched in a tree halfway up the hillside. She had witnessed the soldier who saved Girl of Many Hearts’s life fighting with a warrior. Her heart sat in her chest like a hard cold stone, knowing her allegiance should have been with the warrior. She had willed the soldier to endure, and he had come out the victor. She grieved the loss of another Nimiipuu life, but she did not wish the soldier to lose his life today when he had saved her niece. Now the soldier worked his way up the hillside. His wound clearly weakened him. If he met a warrior, he would not be the victor this time, and she did not wish to watch. Could not root for him, again, without suffering even harsher guilt.

  She launched off the limb, sailed to the village, and up the draw following the escaping survivors being led by young Chief Joseph and Chief White Bird. Frog, Joseph’s brother, remained with the warriors holding off the soldiers, leaving Chief Joseph to deal with Frog’s wounded wife.

  The Nimiipuu traveled into the night, only stopping long enough to give the wounded care before pushing forward. Sa-qan continued her vigilance, waiting to hear from the Creator or her brother. With Wewukiye and Dove following Cut Arm, who travelled many moons behind the Nimiipuu, Sa-qan found communication with her brother difficult. She couldn’t relay Dove was needed here to protect her daughter, or that they’d lost many to the soldiers. She feared they would lose many more. What would the Creator think of her if she allowed more deaths? But she was one and could do little to stop the madness in the so·yá·po soldiers. They were determined to wipe out the Nimiipuu. Her heart bled with the knowledge. Why couldn’t they learn to live alongside one another? The Nimiipuu had done this for generations with many other tribes. Why were the so·yá·po so greedy?

  Her keen vision scoured the land below. Her wings faltered at the sight of a small group hidden in a grove of trees. A mile ahead she watched the main group continue. These left behind would be the people unable to keep up due to their wounds. She searched the castoffs trying to determine who remained behind to care for them.

  Swirling lower and lower, she counted seven bodies. Two old men, three children, and two warriors. She landed on a tree limb and surveyed the small group. The warriors would be needed to help battle the soldiers, the children to continue their people.

  Sa-qan quivered with anxiety. She had to heal them. It was her responsibility.

  An old woman shuffled out of the trees, dragging a water bag. The woman’s gait proved she could barely take care of herself. The water bag dragging along the ground showed her bones too weak to carry the vessel. This woman could not care for them all by herself. And if the soldiers followed, how would she protect them?

  Fear for the small group propelled her motives.

  Sa-qan studied the group, peering first at the old woman and then the wounded. Did she enter the old woman and heal them or appear as herself and help the woman? She watched the woman administer a drink to each. Her hands shook, and she could barely raise the warriors’ heavy heads.

  They all had life-threatening wounds. She, Sa-qan, could heal the warriors quickly but would then be left weakened. If she entered the old woman, in a weakened state she would be a prisoner in the woman’s body if trouble arose.

  Guilt plagued her musings like the rumbling of thunder over the mountains of her home. She had to help. But she could not allow herself to be imprisoned in another’s body.

  The two warriors must be saved swiftly and sent on with the rest. With her decision made, she raised her beak to the sky, and for the second time after years of refusing to use her mortal form, she changed to smoke and into a Nimiipuu maiden. No time for misgivings, she walked confidently through the trees and into the middle of the injured.

  “Who are you?” The woman shot to her feet and teetered.

  Sa-qan held the woman’s arm, steadying her. “I am Sa-qan, and you are?”

  The woman’s wrinkled face reminded her of the ravines she had flown over following the Nimiipuu.

  “I am Summer Cloud. You are not of this tribe. How do you speak our tongue?” The old woman’s suspicious tone caught the attention of a warrior. He tried to rise up on an elbow.

  “I am of the Nimiipuu. My people live far north.” Sa-qan moved to the warrior, easing him back down and sending healing warmth through him. “I heard of our cousins’ troubles and wish to help.”

  “There is a tale of Nimiipuu who live in the cold who have hair the color of sun and eyes the color of a summer sky.” The woman squinted, staring into Sa-qan’s eyes. “Your eyes are the color of hoplal, autumn leaves, and your hair the white of a moonbeam.”

  “There have been many intermarriages among my people.” Sa-qan moved to the next warrior, feeling his forehead and taking stock of his injuries. He would require more time to heal. She would heal him slowly so the woman didn’t become more suspicious.

  “How did you find us? Why are you alone?” Summer Cloud leaned over her shoulder, watching.

  Sa-qan finished infusing the warrior with healing and moved to the children. “I am alone because I have been separated from my family. I heard the noise of the soldiers fighting your band. Circling the noise, I came upon you and these injured people.” The small girl would require much of her txiyak, her power. The two boys were badly wounded but not to the extent of the girl.

  Sa-qan touched the child’s forehead, searching within the girl for strength to heal. Tears burned Sa-qan’s eyes. She blinked and jerked her hand from the child.

  She had never held emotion for another in all her years as a spirit. Confusion muddled her thoughts and shot fear to her chest. She did what the Creator expected of her and felt nothing other than nurturing of the Nimiipuu and her brothers. Now, for just one brother and his wife since their oldest brother became mortal and left this earth with his mortal wife.

  The sudden emotion of sadness for this child and the tear slipping down her cheek numbed her thoughts and froze her in time. Back to her eleventh summer and the passing of their mother to the earth. She was a good woman, a loving mother, and too forgiving a mate. What would have become of her had she been alive when their father behaved so greedily and cowardly?

  “I fear she will not make it.” Summer Cloud’s raspy voice entered Sa-qan’s thoughts.

  “She has many wounds.” Sa-qan shoved her thoughts aside and ran her hands over the dried blood of the child’s wounds. Could she spare the power to help this one? The warriors should be the first to heal.

  The old woman nodded and shuffled over to one of the old men. Her gentle touch proved the man to be her mate. That is why she remained.

  “Do you have healing herbs?” Sa-qan asked. She could strengthen the herbs healing if she chanted over them.

  The woman nodded and shuffled to a small pile of supplies at the base of a pine tree. She picked up the blanket tossed over the top and held up a leather bag. “This is all I have plus that of my daughter.”

  “She is well?” Sa-qan took the leather bag and knelt to see what would be of use to the wounded.

  Summer Cloud shook her head. “My man and granddaughter”—she nodded to the girl—“are all I have left. My daughter and her other child are of this earth.” She had greater reasons for staying with the wounded than any other. Two were her family.

  Sa-qan knew the loss of family. Even though one brother had been a mortal for many summers and she’d watched him age as he had not done as a spirit, his passing
had left a large hole in who she was. Wewukiye was fun and loving, but he did not sit and talk with her like he once did. Not since he took Dove for a mate.

  “This one needs bark.”

  Summer Cloud stole into Sa-qan’s sad thoughts, bringing her back to her mission. To help the Nimiipuu. Sa-qan wrapped her hand around the willow bark, closed her eyes, and chanted to intensify the healing powers of the bark.

  “What are you doing?” the woman asked, standing beside her.

  “Asking the Creator to help these people heal.” Sa-qan glanced at the increasing shadows. Night closed in on the small group. “I will gather wood. We will need a fire to boil the bark and cook broth.”

  The woman’s heavy gaze weighed on Sa-qan as she walked between the trees gathering dried limbs and twigs for the fire. Summer Cloud started the fire and set out the other herbs by the time Sa-qan had a large pile of wood collected.

  The woman boiled water in a metal trader’s pot and added the bark. Sa-qan knelt in front of the herbs and one by one placed a hand on each, chanting to increase their healing powers. She leaned back against a tree and rested, waiting for her txiyak to replenish. She watched Summer Cloud raise each person and either help them drink or dribble the tea between their lips. The warriors slowly showed strength, raising their heads and moving their arms and legs.

  Darkness hovered at the edges of the small fire when Sa-qan’s body sung with txiyak again. She made the rounds of the injured, checking to see that they each had a blanket and placing her hands on them to once again add her healing powers. Summer Cloud had curled up under the blanket with her mate. Sa-qan returned to the base of the tree and studied the old man and woman. What would it be like to have a man, a mate, to talk with, share secrets, and be held?

  She shook her head. Where had that come from? She had never craved a mate like her brothers. She was a loner. Up in the sky, watching everyone below and living through them, you had to be. And she would never forsake the privilege of being a spirit to the Nimiipuu. The Creator had given her and her brothers new life as spirits.

  Several times during the night she checked on the injured and placed her healing hands upon them. By morning, the warriors sat up and asked for food. They watched her warily until Summer Cloud admonished them for not being thankful she came along to help. The old woman bent over the fire cooking up stew from dried fish.

  “I am going for a walk,” Sa-qan said and headed into the trees. She needed to return to the sky and see where the soldiers were and how far the Nimiipuu band had gone. Once out of sight of the small camp, she shifted to smoke and floated into the air, becoming a bald eagle.

  Spreading her wings, her heart soared. She loved the freedom of floating through the air. She scanned the trail toward the abandoned camp and spotted a small group of warriors racing the direction of the band. If they veered to the right they would encounter the wounded she left and perhaps help them reunite with the rest. Her healing would make them able to travel again.

  We have seen the devastation. Wewukiye’s sad words filled her mind.

  Where are you? she asked, hastening her pace.

  At the edge of the village. Cut Arm is here.

  Her feathers ruffled in distaste. The leader of the soldiers acted superior to the Nimiipuu and put words on paper that were not true. He talked one way and acted another.

  She quickly circled above the village and spotted a regal bull elk alongside a slick beautiful cow elk. Dove, while taking on an animal that could keep up with her husband, had refused to change her name. Sa-qan landed in a tree next to them. They watched her intently.

  “What happened here?” Wewukiye asked, tapping a hoof to the ground.

  “The soldiers attacked while the Nimiipuu were sleeping. Many women and children were killed.”

  “Girl of Many Hearts?”

  The fear in Dove’s voice and eyes validated Sa-qan’s decision to use her human form to save Girl of Many Hearts.

  “She is fine. I had to use my mortal form when Silent Doe was injured.”

  Dove stepped forward, her eyes glistening with concern.

  “Do not worry. They are both fine and traveling with the band. Joseph is keeping all well.” Sa-qan peered at her brother. “It would be best if you catch up and watch over the band. I will watch these soldiers and let you know what they plan.”

  Wewukiye nodded.

  “Thank you for helping Girl of Many Hearts.” Dove rubbed her head on Sa-qan.

  Her sister’s show of affection and gratitude warmed her like flying close to the sun. “She is Nimiipuu and family.” Sa-qan waved her wing. “Go, our people are moving quickly to get away from the soldiers.”

  “Thank you, sister.” Wewukiye winked, pivoted, and charged through the trees, Dove in his wake.

  Sa-qan lunged into the air and soared up above the camp of the soldiers. Many hustled around burying bodies, tending the injured, and setting up tents. Her heart lurched at the sight of Bannock scouts digging up Nimiipuu dead and desecrating their bodies. How dare they treat the human vessels with such disrespect!

  She dove, raking her claws across their backs and snatching clumps of hair. One shot at her, but she soared into the sun, disappearing into the glow. Her heart pumped, spurting anger and exhilaration.

  The emotions barely registered before shame engulfed her, sending her spiraling toward the earth. Sa-qan caught her body in an updraft and floated, settling her mind and sifting through the reactions that flowed from her unwanted and unchecked. She never did things without thinking them through and weighing the good for the people from her actions. To have disregarded her position and attacked settled heavy and sour in her stomach. This and the emotions that swarmed her when she healed the girl confused. She did not lose control or live by emotions. She was neutral to all but saving the Nimiipuu.

  Sa-qan landed in a tree on the side of the hill above the trenches dug by the soldiers. Her mind raced to make sense of her careening emotions. Why did she act so? These emotions had never surfaced in her since the day the Creator made her a spirit.

  Her gaze came to rest on the dark-haired soldier who saved Girl of Many Hearts. A man tended the wound on his arm. He’d removed his hat revealing shoulder length, wavy, black hair. Hair grew on his upper lip, not in an unappealing or unruly manner. She had noticed his dark brown eyes, much like a Nimiipuu, when he asked her to come with him.

  How could one with his concern for others be part of a group who killed? Warriors knew how to kill, but they only retaliated when their families were attacked. The soldiers killed anyone and for no reason other than the Nimiipuu did not heed the words of their so·yá·po leader. The soldiers set up camp and continued to take care of the dead and wounded.

  The men giving orders entered a tent. The dark-haired soldier entered, and shortly walked out and down to the village.

  ****

  A shadow moved over Wade as he left the strategy meeting. He glanced up and spotted a bald eagle. If only he could be that carefree. But reality squashed any hopes of ever being carefree again. The army only cared about catching up to the Indians and killing the warriors so there would be less hassle moving the women and children to the reservation. He found his loyalty to the military tested by this campaign. He always followed orders without compunction, but General Howard had made this a personal vendetta. Vengeance should never be a reason to carry out orders. General Howard had taken the Nez Perce flight as a snub to his authority.

  The gentle slope of the hillside carried Wade down to the river. The backdrop of the ravaged village behind the placid stream mimicked the campaign and started the tic in his eyebrow to return. He waded through the cold water wondering how the women and children had managed to remain hidden in the reeds of the frigid stream. The sight of the blonde woman and the girl clinging to her came to mind. He smiled, remembering the woman’s firm stance while facing down the barrel of the private’s rifle.

  He wandered into the village hoping he didn’t see the blonde w
oman, yet searching for a clue as to who she was and how she ended up a captive. Her intelligent golden gaze and slight tilt of her head, as though she had understood and was fearful to speak, remained forefront in his thoughts. Her memory was more welcome than the mutilated bodies of women and children.

  Colonel Gibbon strode across the village toward him. “Lieutenant Watts. I need you to muster a group of men to follow the Nez Perce’s trail and report back to General Howard their whereabouts.”

  Wade stared into the man’s weary face. They’d known each other several years, both being stationed at the same fort. Before yesterday’s attack, Wade had thought highly of the colonel. The fact he couldn’t control his troops didn’t set well. “I—”

  The colonel cut him off. “You’re the only experienced man I trust to keep the men you take from giving away your surveillance.”

  “I’ll gather the appropriate men and be on my way.” His gut squeezed with reproach for continuing after the Indians. They only wanted to live in peace, but his loyalty to the military compelled him to follow orders. He’d been doing it for so long, he couldn’t comprehend not.

  Wade tapped men on the shoulder he knew and respected, ordering them to follow. He wished Cooper had made it. He’d been a good man to have by his side.

  Colonel Abernathy stalked out of Gibbon’s tent and stopped in front of Wade as he tied his bedroll on his mount. “Don’t go letting any Indians get away like you did yesterday.”

  Wade didn’t even glance at Abernathy. He may be higher ranking but the man had the conscience of a rock. It was Wade’s bad fortune the private he told to stand down from the woman and girl cowering in the river was in Abernathy’s platoon. The private must have been disappointed he’d missed out on killing two Indians to have reported the incident to his colonel.

  “I saw no need to kill a woman and child. If you trained your men correctly, they’d know the difference between a warrior and a woman.” Wade swung up into his saddle.