Chapter Thirty-one
Farewell to one now silenced quiet,
Sent out of hearing, out of sight.
—Alice Meynell
The procession to the burial place of Shoshana’s mother was slow and solemn.
Once there, Shoshana found that Storm had come before her and had prepared the earth.
The burial grounds of this Apache band were not as vast as the one that Storm had taken Shoshana to, where he had placed his mother’s hair among his ancestors. It was obvious that this burial place had only been established after Storm and his people had been forced from their other home along the Piñaleno River.
The grave markings were there, made from stones. No names appeared, for it was the Apache custom that the name of the deceased would never again be spoken among the living.
Storm had explained to Shoshana that many, many years ago, it was even considered wrong to go near the burial site. But that was before the Apache felt a need to establish a place where they could go and visit their dead.
The superstitious fear of the older generation, that the spirit of the dead might return to haunt and harm them, was long ago forgotten.
Back then, when lives were governed by such beliefs, the nearer the relationship that bound one to the deceased, the more terrible this dread seemed to be. Even if a relative kept anything that had belonged to the departed, he would fear that the ghost of the dead would come back to claim it.
Shoshana was glad that her people did not follow the rules of those long-ago ancestors, so that she could visit her mother’s grave often before the Piñaleno River Band moved on to Canada.
It was the custom of whites to place flowers on the graves of loved ones, and even to sit and speak to the dead whenever they wished.
Shoshana needed these special moments with her mother, for she had not had enough time with Fawn since she had found her.
Carrying Fawn’s beautifully wrapped body, enclosed in the whitest doeskin, Storm and several other warriors walked solemnly, with Shoshana following behind them. Dancing Willow gave her comfort as she walked hand in hand with her.
The soft songs being sung seemed to beautifully harmonize with the bird song that filled the air this early morning.
And when a huge golden eagle swept suddenly from the sky, Shoshana’s breath was momentarily stolen. Its huge shadow fell over the body of her mother.
Shoshana felt the mystery of this moment when the eagle swept lower, its huge golden talons open, drawing gasps from everyone. For a moment Shoshana felt that the bird was going to sweep up her mother’s body and carry it away as she had seen it do so often in her dreams. Yet she was wrong. It hovered for a moment longer, turned its huge golden eyes to Shoshana, then flew away. It soared above them for a moment, then soon was lost in the shadows of the mountain peak.
Shoshana and Dancing Willow exchanged quick, knowing looks and smiled at one another. Then they continued walking until they finally came to the spot where the ground had been opened to welcome Fawn’s body into it.
Once everyone had circled around in order to witness the burial, Shoshana approached the grave and looked into it. Her eyes widened in wonder.
Then she gazed at her husband, whose eyes met hers as he stepped back to stand with Shoshana while the other warriors began lowering Fawn’s body into the grave. All the while the singing continued, soft and sweet.
Shoshana knew that it would be disrespectful to speak at this time, but she longed to tell Storm just how much she appreciated his loving attention to her mother. He had placed in her grave many of the things that she had loved during her time with the Piñaleno River Band of Apache.
Her sewing equipment was there, as well as her second-favorite dress, for she wore her most favorite. He had included beautifully colored satin ribbons that he had traded for her through the years.
There were so many other things, yet not too many to crowd Fawn’s resting place; just enough so that she would not feel alone once her daughter and the others who loved her had to return to the duties of the living.
Before leaving for the burial, Storm had explained to Shoshana that not so long ago there was a big difference in burial ceremonies of women and warriors. The demise of a warrior provoked a lavish demonstration of woe and general sense of serious loss, whereas the death of a squaw was almost unnoticed, except by her friends and female relatives.
Today the ceremony was to be quiet and serene, but everyone would join in, not only family.
And that was how Shoshana felt it should be, for her mother had become beloved by everyone in this band of Apache, not only a few.
Now White Moon came from the crowd. He brought with him in a small wooden tray some sprigs of dried sagebrush which he had set aflame.
As he spoke to the deceased in low, loving tones, he brushed his hand through the smoke of the sagebrush, then waved it over Fawn’s prone body. He then bent lower and waved his hand through the smoke again, sending it down into the grave.
Then he handed the tray of burning sagebrush to Shoshana, who performed the same ritual with the smoke. She passed it on to Storm.
Once that was done, White Moon stepped away, to be replaced by several young girls and boys who knelt around the grave and sang softly to Fawn. Once again the eagle appeared overhead, casting its shadow over them.
Everything seemed like a dream to Shoshana, so mystical she had to fight back the tears that burned at the corners of her eyes.
She had already cried a river. Yet there were more tears that needed to be shed.
But not now.
This was a time of rejoicing as her mother was being sent off to join those she had loved, oh, so long ago.
Shoshana could barely remember her true Apache father, since she had been so small when he had passed away. But she recalled enough about him that she could almost see him in the clouds, his hands reaching out for his wife, who would soon join him.
Shoshana hid a sob behind a hand, for she now truly felt her father’s presence. She could even feel him putting his strong arms around her, as he had done so often when she had adored the tall, muscled Apache warrior whom she proudly called Ahte.
The word father brought another face into her mind’s eye, one that caused bitterness in her heart.
That man had stolen many precious moments from Shoshana that could have been spent with her mother if he had not stolen Shoshana from her true home and people.
She brushed her thoughts aside as quickly as his face had appeared, for he did not belong there with her this day, nor ever again.
She was saying good-bye to her mother, and would begin the rest of her life where she belonged, and with a man who was a hundred times the man Colonel George Whaley had ever been.
The children’s song was over. They rose and went to stand beside their mothers. Storm took Shoshana’s hand and stood with her over the grave.
When he spoke gentle, loving words to her mother, the woman who had come into his people’s lives so long ago, Shoshana could no longer hold back the tears.
She was touched deeply by the love her husband had had for her mother. His respect for her was evident in the words he was saying to her now.
When Storm glanced at Shoshana and nodded, she told her mother her own deep feelings, and said this was not a final good-bye. They would be reunited one day among the stars; they would laugh and sing again as they had done before their worlds had been torn asunder.
Dancing Willow then approached the grave, and as her people’s Seer, said special words that touched Shoshana deep within her soul. She knew that things had changed between her and Storm’s sister.
They were friends. More than that, they were family.
After all was said, everyone but the warriors whose duty it was to cover the body stepped away from the grave. Lovingly, and with much devotion and care, the warriors securely covered the dead with brush, dirt, and rocks.
Fawn’s marker stone would be placed there before they started their jour
ney to Canada.
Soft prayers were said once again after the warriors stepped back from the grave. Then a young girl, of the same age Shoshana had been when she was taken from her mother that day so long ago, stepped up to the grave, her arms filled with a variety of wildflowers.
She slowly sprinkled them on the grave until no fresh dirt, rocks, or brush could be seen.
There was only the loveliness of the flowers, their scent filling the air.
Shoshana stepped away from Storm and went to the small child. She swept her into her arms and hugged her. “Thank you,” she whispered into her ear. “Thank you, child.”
The little girl, with braids hanging almost to the ground, and with the sweetest smile and midnight-dark eyes, hugged Shoshana back, then stepped away and stood with her mother.
Shoshana returned to Storm’s side.
White Moon distributed sprigs of green grass until everyone, even the children, held some in their hands.
Shoshana followed Storm’s lead as he began brushing himself all over with the wisps of grass. The others now joined in this ritual. Everyone then filed past the grave, and at the head everyone placed this grass on the ground, until it formed the shape of a cross.
Again Shoshana stifled a sob behind her hand, took one long, last look at the grave, then joined Storm and everyone else as they walked in a slow procession back to the village. Upon arriving there, they all stood around the tepee which had been Fawn’s.
White Moon lit a torch from the huge outdoor fire, then stepped up to the tepee and set it ablaze. As it burned, everything that had not been buried with Fawn would go up in flames.
They stood silently watching until only ashes remained on the ground where the tepee had stood. And then White Moon again set a huge clump of sagebrush aflame and spread it on the ground before the simmering ashes of the burned lodge.
One by one, everyone disinfected themselves by stepping through the smoke of the sagebrush. Shoshana held Storm’s hand so that they could step through the smoke together.
“And now it is finished,” White Moon said, reaching his hands heavenward. “Our loved one now joins the spirits of those she loved in the sky!”
Everyone disbanded and returned to their day’s normal activities, except for the children. They had been instructed not to laugh as they played, for it would show disrespect to Shoshana, who was in mourning.
She was touched to see the love and consideration everyone showed her. She knew that she was where she belonged, where she should have been all along.
But she was there now, the wife of a beloved Apache chief. And she had had so many special moments with her mother before Fawn gave up her fight to live. Shoshana did feel truly blessed.
She walked with Storm back to their home, and once there, found much food sitting around the fire. The tantalizing aromas made Shoshana realize how hungry she was. She had not eaten since before she had learned of her mother’s death.
But now that the burial was behind her, and she had done everything she could for her mother, she knew she had someone else to be concerned about.
Her child.
She was not eating for only one person now. She was eating for two, and knew that what she ate must be nourishing.
She gazed at the food, then looked over at Storm. “I remember the very first time I went to a funeral. It was for the wife of a cavalryman. After the funeral, everyone went to his home. I was surprised at how soon everyone lost their sad faces and, instead, laughed, joked, and ate,” she murmured. “It seemed wrong, disrespectful of the dead.”
She paused, then said, “Then . . . then . . . When Mother, my adoptive mother, died, and they did the same after burying her, I was enraged. I told everyone how I felt,” she said softly. “George Whaley was so insulted by my behavior, he scolded me and sent me to my room and did not allow me to leave until the next day. I was not brought any food, nor was I even spoken to. The maids were told to leave me be, to let me think about the wrong I had committed, while all along I grew even more angry over how my mother’s death seemed so quickly forgotten by everyone.”
She sighed. “I shall never forget her, nor my true mother,” she murmured.
She turned to Storm and smiled. “I was lucky, you know, to have two mothers who loved me so much, and to have two mothers to love,” she said, her voice breaking with emotion. “So many speak nastily of stepmothers. I could never, ever say anything but good about mine.”
“And now you will be an ina yourself,” Storm said, gently pushing a fallen lock of hair back from her brow. “And what a beautiful mother you will be.”
“Both of mine were beautiful,” Shoshana said, sighing. “Both were so beautiful.”
Her stomach growled, breaking through her nostalgia. She giggled as Storm placed a hand on her there. In his eyes was an amused twinkling.
“One day when you touch me there you will feel our child moving within its safe cocoon,” Shoshana murmured, placing her hand over Storm’s. “My adoptive mother could never have children, but her best friend had several. I was enchanted by how this woman’s stomach grew so large during those times. She would allow me to feel the baby’s movements inside her tummy. I was intrigued by how the babe could live inside such a small, cramped place.”
“Sometimes two grow in that small place,” Storm said, gently pulling his hand away. He reached for two wooden platters and set one before himself and the other before Shoshana. “Twins have been known to have been born on my father’s side of our family. I have more than one set of twin cousins.”
“You do?” Shoshana said, her eyes wide. “Do you think we might . . . have . . . twins?” She grinned. “Perhaps even triplets?”
“Everything is possible,” Storm said, chuckling.
He ladled out an assortment of food for both himself and Shoshana, then poured two cups of a sweet drink that had also been brought with the food.
“Well, if it is possible that I might have two or three children inside my belly, don’t you think I had better eat my fill of this delicious-looking food that has been brought to us?” Shoshana said, smiling mischievously at Storm.
It felt good to forget her grief for just a moment.
She ate ravenously as Storm watched with amusement in his dark eyes. He was hungry himself. It had been many hours since they had feasted on baked beaver tail.
That now seemed so long ago, when they had sat peacefully beneath the stars eating and laughing with friends.
“Do any of your twin cousins live here at your stronghold?” Shoshana asked, pausing before eating anything else.
“To-dah, I have not seen them since our different bands were separated when the pony soldiers began tearing asunder the lives of all Apache,” Storm grumbled. “Who is to say, though, that perhaps I may find them in Canada land? Several of our different bands have gone there already.”
“When are we leaving?” Shoshana asked.
“Before you get large with child and before the cold winter winds begin to blow,” Storm said, nodding. “Soon, my wife. Soon.”
She felt a wrenching sadness at the thought of leaving her mother behind, yet she had to remind herself that she was not actually leaving her mother. Only Fawn’s shell lay in the ground. The important part of her, her spirit, soared even now somewhere in the heavens, looking down upon Shoshana.
“I look forward to arriving there so that we can start building our new life which soon will include our child,” Shoshana said, sinking her teeth into a piece of corn on the cob, which had recently been harvested.
She knew, because it was harvest time, that they must make haste to leave. Not long after harvest came winter.
“Do you not mean that we will be starting our new life with our children . . . not a lone child?” Storm teased. “Twins are destined for us, my wife. You can count on twins.”
She knew that he was speaking in jest, yet it was a possibility.
She was anxious to see what her dreams told her tonight, whether she was
carrying one, or two, children in her womb. Her dreams had revealed so much to her already in her life.
Her thoughts went to the eagle and how magically it had appeared today at her mother’s burial. She would never forget that eagle and what it had brought into her life, and she had first met it in a dream.
Chapter Thirty-two
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me, ye women, if you can!
—Anne Bradstreet
Four years later—Canada
The grass, once crackling and brittle underfoot, had been transformed into huge carpets of green. Shoshana stood at the door of her log cabin, gazing out at everything beyond the village of tepees, cabins, and wickiups.
Canada was a beautiful place. As now, Shoshana admired the long stretch of land for as far as she could see, and the patches of color along the ground, where spring wildflowers had just opened their faces to the warmth of the sun.
Far in the distance she could see mountain peaks that still showed a covering of snow, which would soon melt, swelling the creeks and rivers below with delicious, sweet water.
Shoshana was, ah, so content at their new home. It was indeed a wilderness, and far from humanity except for their band of Apache, and another band that had recently established themselves downriver.
They needed no white man’s supplies, for they made do with what they took from the earth and sky.
She looked around, and smiled when she gazed at freshly upturned earth where soon corn would be planted, as well as pumpkins, squash, beans, and many other vegetables that would be added to the meat that the warriors kept their families supplied with.
She had helped prepare the earth for seeds in this communal garden, but knew that Storm would soon curtail all of her strenuous activities, for with the last child, she had experienced some frightening moments. She had almost given birth too early, which would have made it impossible for the baby to live.
She and Storm had decided that after this third child was brought into the world, they would be cautious so that Shoshana would not get pregnant again.
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