White Heart, Lakota Spirit

by Ginger Simpson

  “I hope you are right, Grandmother. I hope you are right.”

  * * * *

  Fawn opened her eyes and stretched. Stiff from sleeping curled on her side, she straightened her legs and groaned. Today was the dreaded day of the move and the last thing she wanted to do. She rocked herself into a sitting position.

  Little Elk knelt next to the fire ring and added kindling to spark a flame.

  “Are you so eager to travel that you are up early?” Unintended sarcasm tinged her question.

  “It is a good day for a move.” He stood and raised his hands over his head in a sweeping gesture. “The sun shines, and the sky is the color of your eyes.”

  “It’s easy for you to be excited. You don’t have to take down the tepee or load the horses.” She thinned her lips.

  “That is woman’s work,” he said with authority. “It would not be fitting for a warrior such as me to be seen doing such menial tasks.”

  “Menial tasks?” she mocked, and then threw a parfleche at him.

  He ducked. “I do not mean what I say. I know your work is hard, especially now that you carry my child.”

  She rubbed her stomach. “Our child. This baby is part of me, too, you know.”

  “Yes, it is our child, but get busy before I offer to sell you to the brave who offers the most ponies.”

  Fawn scrambled from beneath the covers and pulled on her moccasins. “All right, I’m up. I suppose you’re hungry? It seems you always are.”

  At his wink, she started the morning meal.

  * * * *

  With the help of Little Elk, Fawn finished tying the last of their belongings to a second of his horses. Trying to soothe a persistent aching, she pressed against the small of her back. A stray wisp of hair adhered to her lip. She brushed it away and turned to Little Elk. “Thank goodness that’s done. I’m glad we don’t have anything else we need to take.”

  Checking the bindings, he walked around both animals but stopped and peered at her over their rumps. “Perhaps I should bind you along with everything else. You are my proudest possession.”

  “I thought your horses were.”

  “Only when we are on flat land. I do not look forward to getting them down the mountain. Each year the journey gets harder as our herd continues to grow.”

  “How many horses do you have?”

  “Ten, but the tribe has more than a hundred others.”

  She sat on a nearby log and played with a blade of newly sprouted grass. “Really? Where did you get ten horses?”

  “Mostly from raids.” He grabbed the lead rope of the black horse. “But a few, like this one, I caught and tamed myself.” He patted the flat spot between the animal’s eyes.

  She cast a wary gaze at him. “The other night you said something about trading me for ponies. Is that really where you got your horses? Getting rid of other women?”

  He laughed. “No! One does not get horses for declaring he is done with his woman. It is customary to give them to the father of one’s intended wife.”

  “Oh, I see. So you actually buy your women.”

  “We do not give horses for that purpose. A brave presents horses to the father of the woman with which he wishes to join to show that he is capable of taking good care of her—that he will be a good provider.” He averted his gaze and splayed his fingers through the stallion’s mane. “I would have given all ten horses to your father if I could.”

  His declaration plucked at her heart. She had hoped he had strong feelings for her, but to imagine he would give his total lot of horses just to make her his own was far more than she hoped for. She resisted the urge to fling herself into his arms, instead kept a suitable distance to avoid embarrassing him. She rose and stood next to him. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Thank you.”

  The silence became awkward. She felt it; most likely he did, too. They still hadn’t mastered being comfortable with praise from one another. Luckily, the tribe started assembling for the journey. He noticed and squared his shoulders. “It is time to leave. We had better join the others.”

  “Can I have one minute, please.”

  He nodded.

  Fawn walked a few feet away and took one last sweeping look at their winter camp. “Goodbye, beautiful mountains,” she muttered too low to be heard. “Thank you for your safe haven. I pray I’ll be back again but with a happy, healthy child.” She crossed back to where he waited and took a deep breath. “I’m ready now.”

  Little Elk helped her mount then led her horse to where the others gathered. Positioning her animal next to those of Green Eyes and Little Cloud, he handed the lead rope to her.

  “I’ll ride with the herd. If you need anything, ask Little Cloud to come find me.” He patted her hand. “Be careful, and take care of the child.”

  She smiled down at him. “I will.”

  At the head of the line, Lone Eagle commanded his people to move. She nudged her mount in the sides. Following the others the pack animal plodded along behind. Fawn took one last glance at the smoldering campfires—the only evidence that a tribe had once camped in the clearing.

  Chapter Seventeen

  So far, the steep trip down the mountain had been uneventful, though tiring. For hours the group had ridden in single file down the most treacherous part of the trail. Fawn had fingernail impressions in the palm of her hand from gripping the reins. Every muscle throbbed from the constant jarring of being on horseback.

  Her family had been too poor to own horses other than the wagon team, so riding astride was foreign to her, and she doubted she would ever develop a fondness for being a horsewoman. The trip to winter camp had been tiring enough, but now in her condition, the trek down proved even more exhausting. Being with child altered her thoughts, heightened her emotions, and sank her energy level. When they made camp, she planned a welcome respite from riding for so long. At least, work out some kinks.

  Tonight, they would sleep on the prairie. Waving below, a sea of green grass welcomed them back to flat land. Fawn fought the scary thoughts running through her mind. What if they met a wagon train? What if they encountered soldiers? Would they kill her for living among Indians?

  She rubbed her expanding belly and vowed to stay with her baby’s father, no matter what happened. Since coming to live with the Lakota, she had learned there were a few bad apples in every bunch. Judging the entire tribe by the actions of a few wouldn’t be fair. These people were her only family now.

  On level ground again, she relaxed her grip on the reins, and the blood flowed back into her fingertips with a tingling sensation. Her body moved in sync with the steady gait of her mount. After riding in the shadow of the mountain for most of the day, the sun provided a welcome relief, bathing her in warmth. She raised her face to the sky and breathed in the sweet smell of spring’s dewy grass.

  Before her lay a portrait painted by Mother Nature—blue skies, a vast expanse soaked in emerald green, and a myriad of colorful flowers in bloom. It was no wonder the Lakota so cherished the land. “I’m going to teach you to love the earth just as your father and his people do,” she whispered to her stomach.

  Her love of the landscape faded as the hours passed. The band elected to keep riding rather than stopping for noontime fare, and Fawn munched on a piece of pemmican to quiet her growling stomach. She looked back to see Little Elk riding amidst the herd. The sight of him sitting straight as an arrow with his ebony hair fluttering in the light breeze warmed her heart and made her feel safe… at least for the moment.

  To pass time, she counted the number of animals skittering from the tall grass to escape the horses’ hooves, but soon grew bored with it. She looked forward just in time to see Lone Eagle hold up a halting hand. The band stopped in a welcoming spot next to the river, and Fawn couldn’t contain her glee. She slid to the gr
ound.

  “We’re home. We’re finally home,” she chanted while clapping her hands.

  Green Eyes chuckled at Fawn’s childish antics. “Yes, we are home, and I can tell you are very glad.”

  Fawn rubbed her sore behind. “You have no idea.”

  They shared a quick laugh, but there was no time to rest. Only time to explore the new campsite and decide where to erect Little Elk’s lodge. Better, he should decide, but he still worked to settle the herd. A wealth of tall grass grew alongside the new campground, providing fodder for the horses, and already some grazed hungrily. Tales of the Crow, well known for stealing Lakota horses, abounded, so keeping the animals nearby provided much needed security. Truly, the harsh winter had left the prairie abundant with food and game. While she waited for Little Elk, she found a stump near the river and sat to ponder her future.

  * * * *

  “Why did Lone Eagle pick this place for camp?” Fawn asked, as she held a lodge pole in place for Green Eyes.

  “Because it is not as flat and open as our previous prairie one. With all the talk of war, he is being even more cautious than usual.” Green Eyes gestured to the terrain. “The natural elevation of the surrounding land makes us less visible to those passing by, and that stand of trees along the riverbank provides sheltering shade.”

  “I like it here,” Fawn said. “We can do our laundry beneath the trees and bathe in privacy in the cove downstream.”

  Green Eyes craned her neck and peeked around the canvas at Fawn. “Still modest, I see.”

  “Even more so now that my belly is growing so big.” Her stomach picked that moment to rumble. “I’m starved, and I’m sure Little Elk must be, too. He’s already killed a nice fat prairie hen, and although I hate plucking feathers, my mouth waters for the taste of roasted meat. Anything besides pemmican. So since you no longer need me to finish, I will say goodnight, or Hanhepi waste.”

  Her friend smiled. “Your Lakota gets better every day, and having you around has certainly helped renew my English. Hanhepi waste, little mother, and thank you for your help.”

  Fawn crossed the new compound to the site Little Elk had selected for their new home. Smoke and pleasant cooking smells filled the air as some tribal members already set their evening fires and prepared their dinner.

  * * * *

  The delicious aroma of roasted hen lingered inside Little Elk’s lodge. He leaned back and relaxed after a hearty dinner. “My stomach smiles,” he said. “It is good to eat something other than dried buffalo meat, and even better that we are home again.”

  Fawn nodded as she dried the last of the dinner utensils. “I was just glad to get off that darned horse. My backside is still numb.”

  “So will you stand forever?”

  “No, silly.” She came and settled next to him. “I needed to finish my chores, so I can say I am finished with this day. I cannot recall ever being this tired.”

  “There is something we need to discuss.” His demeanor turned serious.

  Her heart pounded. “I’m listening.”

  “I have been thinking that the time has come for me to proclaim to all that you are my wife.”

  She closed her gaping mouth. “Really?”

  “It is true. What are your thoughts?”

  “You truly want to marry me?” Her heart raced. There was so much she didn’t know yet about the Lakota people and their customs. “Describe an Indian wedding to me.”

  “This would not be the usual marriage because we already live together and will soon have a son—”

  “Or daughter,” she snapped.

  His brow furrowed, but he didn’t argue. He shifted his position then crossed one ankle over the other. “When a young man finds a maiden in which he is interested, he lets her know of his desire by playing his flute outside her lodge. If she finds him desirable, she might ask him to stand with her beneath her blanket. With heads covered, they may even steal a kiss, but nothing more until he makes an offer of ponies to her father. If there is more than one suitor, the one with the most horses most often wins the maiden’s hand.”

  “And then what?” She leaned closer.

  “The maiden erects her own lodge, moves her belongings from her mother’s, and takes her husband into her home.”

  Worry niggled at her. “How will we be married? I have no father to whom you can offer ponies, and you have no need to prove your ability to provide for me. I am already your possession.”

  He folded his arms across his chest and stared at her. “You are no longer considered a possession, Dancing Fawn. You are here because I wish it so. It is important that you wish it also.”

  “I do. You know that.”

  “Then, at the next tribal council we will invite all the people to celebrate our joining.”

  She raised her brow. “What made you decide that now is the right time?”

  “I know you are worried about having a child without being married, so I will wed you and put your mind at rest.”

  Her jaw tensed. “Is that the only reason?”

  “No. My heart demands that I make you my wife.”

  She reached for his hand, ashamed for questioning his intentions. “Then I would be honored to become your wife. Just tell me what I need to do.”

  He reached over and added more buffalo chips and another log to the fire. Fading flames flickered to life and cast silhouettes on the tepee wall. “There is little you must do. Since I have no mother to guide you, I will ask Singing Sparrow and Green Eyes to help prepare you for the celebration.”

  Before she could ask another question, he leaned over and rested his ear against her stomach—something he hadn’t done before.

  “What are you doing?” She petted his head.

  “Listening to see if my son approves of this joining.”

  She yanked a hank of his ebony hair. “What does your daughter say?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Her wedding day arrived, and Fawn stood before Singing Sparrow and Green Eyes while they fussed over her. “Give me a chance to breathe,” she complained, flicking a wrist to make them stop.

  Green Eyes ignored Fawn’s fidgeting and continued tying the rawhide strips on the beautiful, white doeskin dress that she and her mother-in-law had fashioned for the occasion. “We are only trying to make sure you look absolutely radiant for your husband-to-be.”

  “I can’t endure the waiting. My palms are soaking wet.”

  “Stand still,” Green Eyes pleaded. “Goodness, I cannot believe your stomach has grown so in the past three weeks. The dress may be snug, but you still look beautiful.”

  Singing Sparrow tied a beaded band around Fawn’s forehead. “There, now you are beautiful. You remind me of my daughter on her own joining day.”

  Green Eyes took her mother-in-law’s hand. “I wish that Little Doe could be here. I miss her, too.”

  Nodding, Singing Sparrow wiped away a tear. “I pray she is well and that perhaps we will see her at the next Sun Dance. But, let us not be sad. Today is a time for smiles and laugher.” She stood taller and turned her attention to Fawn. “Do not forget to invite Little Elk into your blanket.”

  “Is the wasichiu ready?” a voice called from outside.

  Green Eyes opened the flap and revealed Little Cloud. “Yes, my son, but she has a name. Dancing Fawn is ready.”

  A beautiful white mare, decorated with flowers and symbols, stood next to the young brave. Fawn’s heart hitched as she stepped outside. This really was her wedding day. Fear mingled with excitement and shivered through her. Like Singing Sparrow a moment ago, Fawn reached to wipe the wetness from her own cheek. She glanced at Green Eyes and noticed she wiped away tears, too.

  “Why do you cry?” Fawn asked.

  “From happiness. Seeing my son reminds me of my w
edding day. Only then the young brave holding the pony was Little Elk. He delivered me to the man of my heart. So today, my son will repay the favor. Go. Let Little Cloud take you to be joined with your love.” She brushed a kiss against Fawn’s cheek.

  Little Cloud webbed his fingers together and held them in front of Fawn. She placed a moccasin-encased foot into his hand, and with a boost from her friends, planted her behind firmly on the horse’s back—sidesaddle style. Finding her balance, she cradled her pregnant belly in her arms. “My stomach flutters, but I know not whether it is my child or my nervousness.”

  Green Eyes stepped forward and grasped Fawn’s hand. “Do not be nervous. You are already the wife of Little Elk’s heart. This just makes your joining... How do I say it...official? Today you truly become part of the tribe.”

  Singing Sparrow straightened Fawn’s gown. “Food is already prepared, and the drums are ready. Normally we would wait until the newly-joined couple returned from time in seclusion, but you and Little Elk have already enjoyed your time together alone. Today will announce to the tribe that you and he accept each other as mates for eternity.”

  Eternity was a long time, and Fawn couldn’t imagine spending it with anyone else. She clutched the animal’s mane with both hands as Little Cloud led the horse to the other side of camp where the tribe had congregated to await her arrival. She swallowed hard. Being around the people one or two at a time hadn’t been hard, but never had she been the focus of all. She pondered asking Little Cloud to turn around, but it was too late. He led the mare to where Little Elk stood, and all eyes fixed on her.

  Knees trembling, she slid from the back of the mare into the arms of Little Elk, and together they stood before Chief Lone Eagle. Fawn wasn’t sure what to expect since her intended had been so vague describing the ceremony. Why hadn’t she asked more questions? Who needed drums for the celebration? Her heart thudded like one.

  Her gaze rested on the multi-colored blanket hanging over the chief’s arm. Without a word, he passed the mantle to Fawn, who remembering Singing Sparrow’s instructions, accepted it. She unfolded the cloth and, with hands shaking, draped it around her shoulders. Her mind raced, wondering what more she was supposed to do. She glanced around the arena, uneasy with the spectator’s stares as they waited, but for what she had no idea.