by Stephy Smith
“Where is my lodge?” she leaned into Rising Wolf after the ceremony. Jerome and Little Snowbird left with her parents. Falcon Woman appeared tired from the activities.
“I moved it to a more private area. Red Eagle helped me find the right location. He is sure you will love it. Come, I’ll show you.” He caught her hand and pulled her toward the river.
A small tipi that her mother and his mother had worked together to set up stood in the clearing. The makings of a cabin nestled at the edge of a grove of trees. In a few days, her home would stand as proudly as he did.
Smoke drifted from the smoke hole of the tipi. Rising Wolf stopped and stared at the lodge.
Falcon Woman wrapped her arms around his neck. She pulled him tightly to her chest and let the tears flow under his buckskin shirt to tickle his back. Mortified, he did not understand what was wrong with his new wife. Perhaps she was frightened of being alone with him. He would have to take care in making her feel more comfortable around him.
“It’s the most beautiful lodge I’ve ever seen. Thank you, Rising Wolf.” Her cheeks flushed. Rising Wolf’s heart almost stopped beating. He was off to a good start, and he let out a sigh.
For two days, the men of the village, Silver Hawk and Red Eagle helped Rising Wolf get the cabin ready for him and his new bride. The sun glared through the tiny window. Falcon Woman sat up and gazed for a few seconds then turned to her husband. His eyes trained on her; he heard her sigh. Shadows danced across the walls. Her tan skin glowed, her eyes lit with excitement.
“Why did you marry me?” Out of nowhere, the words slipped from her lips.
“You don’t know?” His brows furrowed. After four long years of studying her every move when he was around, memorizing the sound of her voice when she laughed, and she asked why he married her? Silent communications he sent to her. Then it sunk in, she didn’t understand the ways of courtship of his people.
“No.” She gazed deeper into his eyes. He opened the door to his soul for her to look in.
“Falcon Woman is the most beautiful woman in the nation. Your laugh floats soft on the wings of butterflies. Love sparkles in your eyes to set my heart to drum with the flap of bird wings. You are my strong medicine; you are my life. I love you.” His tender words erased the doubt on her face.
“I love you too.” She kissed him on the forehead. Across the room, orange embers glowed. He tossed a log on the fire, and they watched the flame roar. She placed coffee on to boil. His watchful stares memorized her every move. He prayed it would never change. For at this moment there could never be anything more beautiful than watching her in the mornings.
As the days passed, Rising Wolf escorted her to the village. Falcon Woman helped the women, integrating herself into the social group with high honors. Rising Wolf gazed with astonishment at the way she adapted and fit in with her surroundings. She was no stranger to this kind of life. Worry disappeared from his mind. Her father, mother, and grandparents had taught her well.
Long sweltering days and equally warm nights seemed to zap the energy from Falcon Woman. Every afternoon she left his side to take rest. Deep down inside he knew she was a willful person. It would take more than a few hot days to bring Falcon Woman down.
Chapter Four
Jerome Tucker glanced over the mountain. He slipped his arm around the tiny waist of his new wife Little Snowbird. She stood silent and still.
“Are you sad to leave the tribe?”
“Yes. They are my people.” Jerome’s heart wrenched at the sadness in her eyes. Guilt consumed him for taking his bride from the only home she had ever known to go to Washington, D.C.
“Something has to be done for them, or I wouldn’t have brought you on this journey.”
“I know.” Little Snowbird gazed up into his eyes.
“The Cheyenne are a peaceful tribe. I don’t understand why they are being treated the way they are.” Doubt of helping them consumed his innermost conscience.
“The white man doesn’t want to understand us. They want what is not theirs to take, and they push us into lands we know nothing of. You are doing what you feel is necessary for our people, Red Eagle.”
“You will have to get used to calling me Jerome. We must convince the men in D.C., I am an honorable, upstanding citizen before revealing I have Cheyenne blood in my veins.” His eyes burned with fury. Lying to the white man was not his way. In order to help the people, it was the only way. They would no more listen to an Indian than they would a buffalo chip on the prairie.
“What are we going to call me? I have no English name to go by. Little Snowbird would give us away.” Her brow creased as she moved closer to him.
“Do you have a name in mind?” He pulled her against his chest.
“Josephine, I like the name.” Her smile warmed him.
“Then Josephine it is. We have a lot of miles to cover. I would hate to miss our train. I’m expected to be in Washington, D.C., by the first of next month.”
Lifting his wife onto the buckboard, he glanced around to make sure nothing was left behind. He climbed in beside her, and the wagon jerked forward as the team of horses moved forward.
“Someone is following us.” Josephine kept her voice low and gazed straight ahead.
“Amelia probably sent Rising Wolf and his men to watch out for us.” His twin sister always seemed to be overly protective of their family.
“No, Red Eagle…I mean, Jerome. They are not Cheyenne, nor are they white men.”
“Who could they be then? Are we in danger?” He fought the urge to glance behind them.
“Not at the moment. They are in the shadows of the trees. I do not believe they plan to harm us,” she whispered.
“Can you tell which tribe they are?” He remained calm on the outside; inside, his heart pounded like war drums.
“I believe they are guarding us from anyone who tries to hurt us. Rising Wolf arranged safe passage until we meet up with the train.” Her giggles warmed him.
“How long have they been with us?”
“Since we left our territory and entered theirs.” Stars in her eyes danced around when she gazed up at him.
A cool breeze whipped through the air. Hurried horse hooves approached from the side. The Indian brave slowed his mount and rode along beside the wagon. His voice was low, and he spoke a language Jerome couldn’t understand.
Josephine nodded, and the man rode back the way he came. She climbed in the back of the wagon.
“What did he say?” Jerome called over his shoulder.
“He said the soldiers are up ahead. I need to put on the white woman’s dress and bonnet. They are heading our way to escort us to the train. His men will continue to follow to ensure our safety. They do not trust these men.”
“Nor do I, Jo.” His faith in the army and their misuse of people had dwindled into a cloudy abyss.
The rustle of skirts tempted him to glance over his shoulder. He would never tire of his beautiful wife, no matter what she wore. She stood proud and showed a courage as wild and free as the birds of the air.
His mother Emma Donley Tucker taught her and the other Cheyenne children to read, write, and speak the English language as well as any white man. She had traveled west when she was young, to teach the children of the fort. When her life became a tangled web of deceit from the commander’s brother, the people of the fort replaced her with another teacher.
Settling into the bench, he waited for Little Snowbird to rejoin him. A few words in Cheyenne came from behind before she appeared on the seat.
“How do the white women wear these things? I can’t breathe in all these confining clothes.” She worked to straighten the long skirt about her legs as if she were fighting a mountain lion for a fish.
He kept his chuckles low. “You look beautiful, although I must admit I like the doeskin better.”
“Woman With Small Voice say, ‘You must wear this.’ I now say to her, ‘Phooey, she should wear it’.”
“Grandm
other has worn plenty of dresses like that. Well, maybe not that many, but she has worn some. She didn’t like them either.” He patted his wife on the leg.
“I do not like the way it makes my—” she looked down, “—breast stand out. And this thing on my head is hot and uncomfortable under my chin.”
“Bonnet. It’s called a bonnet.” He stifled a chuckle.
“I don’t care what it is called. I want to feel the sun and air on my head and face.” She pursed her lips and glanced at him through narrow eyes.
Up until now, he had never considered the changes she would have to make. He hadn’t thought of a simple dress becoming her enemy. “Relax, Jo. I see the army up ahead.”
“Relax? You can take your words and toss them in a tree. I have to fight for air. I am beginning to hate this way of life.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
The dust from the line of horses thickened. Jerome inhaled a deep breath. His chest constricted with the danger the warrior warned them of. The men pulled up in front of the team, and he had to stop.
“Gentlemen.” He nodded his head.
“Would you happen to be Jerome Tucker?”
“Yes, that would be me.”
“I’m Lieutenant Wells. Me and my men have been sent to escort you to the train. Have you encountered any trouble?”
“No, sir. I don’t believe we will be needing your escort, sir. We have come a long way on our own and haven’t seen a soul except when we stopped for supplies.” Jerome searched the faces of the men in the lines. He didn’t like the way some of them were looking at his wife with hunger in their eyes.
“I don’t recall asking if we could escort you. I told you we are here to make sure you…Mr. Tucker, this is dangerous territory you are in. I have orders, and I shall obey them regardless of how you feel about it.” The lieutenant’s eyes narrowed. His words filtered through his clenched teeth.
Jerome glanced at his wife, and she nodded her head.
“By all means, Wells. Do your job then. We plan to travel straight through to the train. We have rested the horses and do not plan to stop until we get there.” He slapped the reins on the horses’ backs. The creaking wheels bellowed under the weight of the packed wagon. The row of men split, and the couple passed between them.
Lieutenant Wells rode beside Jerome. “Sir, you must stop for the night.”
“I am not a part of your army. I didn’t ask for your escort. My wife and I are enjoying our time together. If you would excuse us and leave us to our travels, we will be no trouble to you and your men. Good day, sir.” He glanced at his wife. She held her tiny hand over her mouth, and he could see the twinkle in her eyes. They bounced around on the wooden seat as they headed across the prairie.
****
Riding in a wagon was a new experience for Little Snowbird. Her heart pounded as the excitement of seeing a city for the first time in her life set in. A certain amount of fear forced its way into the mix. At first, she thought it was kind of fun, but the further they traveled, the less she liked it.
“Red Eagle, you must stop this thing!”
“What are you talking about, Little Snowbird?” Jerome’s brows rose.
“This…this wagon. It is trying to kill me. My backside hurts from all this bumping and jiggling. My back has scratches from the claws of this board rubbing across it. I will walk.” She tried to change positions and provide a small amount of comfort to her stiff body.
“I will let you down for a while, but you must get used to riding up here.” His voice sent satisfaction to her ears. She didn’t want to get used to riding in the wagon. They were for lazy people, and she wasn’t some pampered little white woman who couldn’t manage to walk a few miles.
“The next thing you will tell me is I will have to bunch my hair on top of my head and stick pins in it to keep the twisted stuff in place.”
“Not until we get closer to the train.” His jovial laugh soothed a small amount of her anxiety.
She stopped abruptly. “Red Eagle. You climb down from that wagon right now. We need to talk before I move another step.”
He pulled the horses to a stop and jumped down. Running to her, he grasped her shoulders. “What is it, Little Snowbird? Are you ill? Injured? What’s wrong?” His panicked voice laced with the fear etched in his eyes.
“I witnessed a woman riding with one leg perched on a pillow or something; it was on the same side of the horse as the other leg. She was in the fort one day. If you think I am going to learn to ride like that, you are mistaken.”
“You won’t have to learn to ride sidesaddle, Little Snowbird. Is there anything else on your mind? We are wasting valuable traveling time.” He smoothed a string of hair blowing in the calm breeze.
“I am thinking of all the things I have seen the women in the fort do. I do not approve of some of those things. I like the freedom of my life. I will try to adjust to help you out, but I will not bend over a stump to impress the ones who degrade my people.” She stomped her moccasin-clad foot.
“There will be times when both of us may have to bend over that stump. Until then, we shouldn’t fret over it.” He pulled her to him and kissed her lips.
A tingle ran down her spine as a warmth settled in her. “Kiss me again.” And he did as she asked. This time his kiss was more urgent, longer; her knees grew weak, and she leaned into his muscular body. His arms wrapped around her, leaving heated responses coursing through her willing body. He gently set her back from him.
“We better move on.”
She whirled around and stomped to the wagon. She took her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. What is so all-fired important about keeping some schedule? I never kept one of those in my life, and I have fared just fine. She kept her thoughts to herself.
In her world, they may have followed certain timelines, but not one that couldn’t be set off if need be. Her people would leave the winter home and head for the summer camp when they felt necessary. They didn’t wait for the last minute to start on their journey. This was just one more thing for her to add to her dislikes of the white world. Too many restrictions.
The shadows in the tree line traveled along beside them. She had overheard Rising Wolf, her new brother-in-law, mention to one of his warriors to keep Red Eagle from harm. The band of warriors that stole away in the darkness were not of her tribe, but she was thankful they were there. She did not like the way the white men would pop up out of the grass and call the women names when they carried their baskets, blankets, and other items to the fort to trade.
Being far away from her own people intensified the sensation that those men would overpower her and Red Eagle. He was none the wiser of things like that happening to the women. When she saw the protective band of men, she decided her husband should be aware they were in the vicinity. In a short time, one of the warriors broke the barrier and headed toward them.
She slipped into the back of the wagon to don the dress Woman With Small Voice and Bright Eyes made for her. She fought with the moose bone corset and eventually won the battle. Her ribs squashed against the hideous garment rendered her breathless. The crease of her bosom smashed together spilling over the top of the nasty piece of clothing. Shaking her head at the hoops and petticoats, she decided to forgo those luxuries.
How a woman could dress up in this manner everyday was beyond her comprehension. She praised the great spirits for making her an Indian. How was she ever going to fit into the white man’s world when they reached civilized territories where she was expected to pass herself off as a white woman?
“Red Eagle, did you marry me because my skin is lighter than the other maidens’ in my village?” Her skin wasn’t as white as Amelia’s, yet it wasn’t as dark as the other women in her family.
“No, Little Snowbird. I married you because of what is in here.” He pointed to her chest.
“You married me for my bosoms?” The heat rose to her cheeks.
“In your heart.” He smiled. “I have watched you ov
er the years. You were always the first one to lend a hand to those in need. The younger children gathered around you as if you were their mother. You helped feed those in the village who are unable to provide for themselves.”
Chapter Five
Rising Wolf waved at Falcon Woman from the opposite side of the White River. Her heart thundered as he stepped into the cold water with his spear poised overhead to stab the first fish to swim within his reach. Crouched above the peaceful waters, his statue-like appearance sent butterflies to her stomach. A lump formed in her throat. The broadness of his chest permitted power to rein down his arms. Electricity coursed across her skin as she let her eyes drift to the muscled legs stretched taut under his stance. Warmth pulsated to the core of her inner self.
Joy and jubilation partnered in the dance of her heart. How did she ever live without Rising Wolf in her life? The mere thought of the nights wrapped in his arms warmed and aroused her. A silence fell on the small meadow where the cabin stood. With passion, she stared; obsessed with his stillness, she held her breath. She loved the way his powerful body emitted patience.
Observing a slight movement from his head, her eyes followed the twist. The bear came out of nowhere. Before she could scream, Rising Wolf bent around and attempted to raise the spear higher. With one swift swipe of the bear's paw, Rising Wolf fell backwards in the river. The water burst into a crimson pool. Her lungs seized to suck in air. Thunderous pounding from her heart echoed in her ears.
Falcon Woman picked up Rising Wolf’s tomahawk. Her screams reverberated over the mountain. The cold water caught her breath as she jumped in. A heavy pull from the weight of the tomahawk tilted her body. Her arms grew weary as she fought the currents threatening to carry her further downstream.
The bear continued his assault on Rising Wolf. Thunder in her heart and her mind pounded with fury she never experienced before. Pure, raw adrenalin propelled her to swim stronger and faster to reach the other side. Tears stung her eyes as they mixed with the river water. She fought to make it to her beloved husband. Despair etched every move she made.
