White Heart, Lakota Spirit

by Ginger Simpson

  “If you wish to join with the brave standing next to you,” Lone Eagle’s booming voice startled her. “Then open your blanket and take him inside.”

  Fawn turned and faced Little Elk. His happiness showed in the sparkle of his dark eyes, and hers blossomed into a smile. She clasped the mantle’s edge in her hand to keep it from sliding off and extended her arm. She took a deep calming breath. “I open not only my blanket to you, but also my heart.”

  Little Elk stepped into the folds of her cover. “I gladly share your blanket and your lodge. From this day forward you will be known as the wife of Little Elk, brave Lakota warrior.”

  No sooner had he spoken the words, than the crowd erupted into whooping cheers. There would be no customary kissing of the bride, but Little Elk would show her far more affection when they were alone. She swallowed her nervousness. She’d just become a married woman. Her wedding wasn’t quite the one little girls dreamed of, but her happiness weighed more than any sense of disappointment.

  * * * *

  After the ceremony, she and Little Elk joined the entire tribe around a blazing fire and ate in celebration of the marriage. A group of braves danced in concert with a steady drumbeat. Their chanting was foreign to her, but Little Elk leaned closer. “They dance to celebrate our union and ask Wakan Takan’s blessing upon our coming child.”

  “That’s so nice.” She raised her voice to be heard over the noise. “I thought they would be unhappy if you married a white woman.”

  “Like Green Eyes, your heart is Lakota, and the people look within rather than at the color of your skin.” He closed his hand over hers. “One day, perhaps everyone will celebrate our love for one another.”

  “Did you say our love?” He hadn’t really professed his feelings for her before.

  He gazed into her eyes. “Yes, I do love you, Dancing Fawn, with my whole heart.”

  She bit her knuckle and fought tears. Hard to believe she was a wife, and even more, a soon-to-be mother. That last day with her family, she never expected her life to become so confusing, and possibly dangerous. For the moment, knowing Little Elk loved her, allayed her fears of not being accepted by the tribe. In her heart, she knew she’d become an outcast to those who shared her skin color.

  * * * *

  Fawn sat in the shade of her lodge and scraped rabbit pelts she’d use to warm her child. It had been three weeks since she married Little Elk, and the scared, young girl who had been dragged into the village seemed just a distant memory. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine she would love, let alone marry, one of her captors. Nor did she ever think she would be this happy.

  The month of April had so far been unusually warm, and the sun had soaked up all traces of moisture from the winter. Her mind wandered from the task at hand, and she traced a line in the fine dirt beneath the grass. Occasionally, something fluttered inside her, and she stopped and stared at her stomach. Placing a hand on her mid-section, she sat and waited for the strange sensation again.

  “What are you doing, my child?”

  Fawn jerked her head up to see Rain Woman. “I thought I felt something. Maybe it’s the baby.”

  The old grandmother squinted in the bright sunlight. “Soon you will have no trouble telling.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “As the child grows within you, the space becomes cramped. Like you, the baby will tire of being in one position all the time. You’ll see what I mean soon enough.” Cackling, Rain Woman hobbled away.

  Fawn shook her head. “How come everyone knows what to expect except me?” she muttered.

  Her attention was diverted to the three braves on horseback riding into the village. The strangers reined their animals to a halt, dismounted, and hurried toward Lone Eagle’s lodge.

  Their seemingly urgent arrival caused her to wonder, and she stood and surveyed the area for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing seemed odd, so she turned her interest back to her pelts, hanging them on the drying rack. She went inside to get the empty water bladders to refill.

  Fawn recognized her friend’s voice outside the lodge and pushed aside the flap. “Come in.”

  Green Eyes’ brow furrowed, and she wrung her hands. “Oh, Fawn. I just overheard some terrible news.”

  Fawn froze it place. Was it about Little Elk? Where was he? “What did you hear?”

  Fearing the answer, her heart pounded hard inside her chest.

  “The blue coats attacked the village of Chief Standing Bear. Most of his tribe was massacred.”

  Fawn felt her knees go weak, and sat. “Even the women and children?”

  “Yes.”

  “How far away is their village?”

  “Not far. The braves who brought the news heard it from one of the few survivors who made it to a neighboring tribe. I have dreaded the day something like this would happen.”

  Fawn peered up at her friend. “What does this mean for you and me?”

  Green Eyes sagged to the floor and dropped her head into her hands. “I do not know. We will have to wait until the tribal council meets and decides what to do. Lone Eagle has gone to call them together.”

  Fawn clasped her hands behind her tense neck and stared at the ceiling. “I was just beginning to look forward to a happy life. Please tell me this won’t change anything.”

  “I wish I could. We will just have to wait.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Curious about strangers in the camp, Fawn busied herself with outside chores. Braves from other tribes rode in throughout the day, bringing with them the same dismal news. The bluecoats had declared war on every Indian in the area. Even a few hunting parties had been attacked and everyone killed. Little Elk had left early to hunt for game and had not returned. Fraught with worry, Fawn went inside and paced ruts in the floor. She prayed Little Elk would make it home safely.

  Green Eyes announced her arrival outside the closed flap.

  “Come in. Please. I really need some company right now.”

  Green Eyes peered inside the dark lodge. “Why have you shut yourself away?”

  “I’ve worried myself sick about Little Elk. He hasn’t returned yet.”

  Pulling the door flap up, Green Eyes stood ready to fasten it. “You don’t mind, do you? Fresh air and sunlight will make you feel better.” She glanced over her shoulder.

  At Fawn’s nod, she secured the deer hide in place and turned. “You need not worry. Little Elk is very skilled in all things. He will return before long.”

  Fawn sagged to the floor next to the empty fire pit. “I hope you are right. I don’t know what I will do if anything happens to him.”

  Green Eyes sat beside her and heaved a sigh. “I understand, believe me. There have been times when I have been just as worried about Lone Eagle, but I have learned over the years that our braves are not afraid of pain or death.” She patted Fawn’s shoulder. “You have not yet been to a Sun Dance, but come summer, you will witness one first hand. All the tribes gather and….”

  “Gather and what?”

  “I just had a horrible thought. If things do not get better, we may not have a Sun Dance. There may not be enough tribes left.”

  Fawn widened her eyes. “Oh, don’t say that. Surely things will improve. You’re supposed to make me feel better, not give me more to worry about.”

  Green Eyes smiled, but worry clouded the emerald eyes for which she’d been named. “Please forgive me. I really am trying to remain strong, but when danger threatens the ones I love, positive thoughts are hard to summon. Lakota women have strength I envy. If they worry, they do not show it, and their beliefs are the same as their men. Death is an honor, and dying in battle is preferable to old age. I do not know how they hold up during times like this.”

  “If death is an honor, then I hope I’m not honored for
a very long time. I just want Little....”

  The sound of horses in camp caught her attention. She struggled to her feet and rushed outside. Little Elk, with a deer carcass dangling across his mount, led the hunting party into camp. Fawn patted her chest in an effort to slow her racing heart and took a long relaxing breath. Seeing him safe and sound filled her with desire to smother him with welcome-home kisses, but that would have to wait for the privacy of their lodge.

  She fell into step alongside his horse and glanced up at him. “Welcome home. I worried about you.”

  He stopped and dismounted, dangling the lead rope to a heaving stallion. “Why did you worry? Do you not trust that I am a good warrior?”

  She widened her eyes at his reaction. “My concern has nothing to do with trust. I don’t expect you to understand, but all morning I’ve listened to nothing but talk of war and killing. I was so afraid—”

  His lips thinned, and he shook his head. Turning his back to her, he gave one tug on the deer, and the animal thudded to the ground. “You worry needlessly. I forget you are not yet used to our ways.”

  She yanked on his sleeve. After all she’d been through, his condescension insulted her. When he faced her, she pulled herself to her full height. “And what way would that be? I have done everything that has been asked of me. I’ve scraped hides, plucked birds, cooked your dinner and kept your home, and now I carry your child. Why wouldn’t I worry? What would happen to me and this baby if something happens to you?” She cradled her stomach, fighting back tears.

  His expression softened. “I am sorry I have upset you. Even though there is danger, we still must eat. I will not sit back and let fear of the white man cripple me. I must trust that Wakan Takan will keep me safe and help my arrows find their mark.”

  She met his gaze. “I think my condition makes me more sensitive. But, even though Green Eyes explained how you Lakota think, I’m sorry, but I don’t agree.” Fawn lowered her head and stared at the ground. “I don’t want you to die in battle, or anywhere else for that matter. I don’t care how honorable you believe it to be.”

  He cupped her chin and lifted it. “I am not going to die. I have a son on the way.”

  Handing his horse’s reins to another and stepping over his kill, Little Elk took Fawn’s elbow and walked her toward their lodge. His comment about a male child went unchallenged. She was too tired to argue.

  * * * *

  Little Elk’s arm rested beneath her head as they lay together on their sleeping mat. His attempt to put aside her worries of war did little to help. Still, she loved learning more about Lakota tradition. The way he demonstrated key points about the pipe ceremony with his free hand amused her.

  “The one holding the pipe allows the smoke to drift in the four directions, then toward Mother Earth and Father Sky.” He pointed upward. “Because tobacco is scarce on the Great Plains, kinnic kinnick is often used in its place.”

  “I haven’t heard that term. What is kinnic kinnick?

  “The bark of the red willow. Some is placed in the pipe and lit, some sprinkled back to the earth in four directions: east for the rising sun, west for the land of darkness–the spirit world, and south for all that Mother Earth provides, then north–the power of winter and cleansing snow. When one draws from the sacred pipe, he offers his thanks to his guiding spirits for all that has been given. The rising smoke is but the breath of the Great Spirit.”

  She understood the gist of his story. The ceremony created a connection between the Lakota and their God, but even after talking for hours, some things remained unanswered. His words faded into the distance, and her attention fixated on Little Elk’s handsome profile as he spoke. She lifted her hand and stroked his angular cheek. “Little Elk, as much as I love listening to your stories, I cannot promise I will ever understand all your beliefs, rituals and customs. Listening has helped me see things more clearly, but I am curious about one thing.”

  “What do you question, my Dancing Fawn?”

  She sat up. “We have talked about vision quests, naming ceremonies, and counting coup. I see how touching the enemy in the presence of a witness and living to tell about it is considered a brave deed and more honorable than killing, but I have to ask. Why was my family killed? Was there no honor to be had in simply touching them and letting them live?”

  His eyes widened, and he rose to his knees beside her. “I wish I had an explanation for you. The raid was not planned. It was just foolish, young braves, trying to prove something to themselves and each other.” He took her hand and placed it against his chest. “Do you feel my heart?”

  “Yes, a strong and steady rhythm, but what has that to do with my question?”

  “Just know that with every heartbeat I shall always regret I rode with that raiding party. I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”

  Fawn pulled her hand away and rose to her knees beside him. “I do not blame you, Little Elk. At first I did, but then I discovered what a loving and kind person you are. I hold only Black Crow responsible, and he is no longer part of our lives.”

  Little Elk reeled her into a one-armed embrace and caressed her cheek with his free hand. “Loving and kind, am I? Come, lay with me again and let me live up to my reputation.”

  Fawn giggled and pushed him away. “Not in the middle of the day.”

  He snared her back. “Can a man not make love to his woman when the sun shines? I know of no such rule.”

  At that moment, the baby chose to give a healthy kick. Fawn sat back on her heels and clutched her stomach. She looked up into the wide eyes of her husband. “That was a hard one.”

  “Was that my son?”

  “Could have been your daughter,” she teased.

  Little Elk placed his hand against her abdomen. “Will the child do it again?”

  “I don’t know. The baby has been moving a lot, but I sense he or she has a mind of their own.”

  Little Elk kept his hand pressed against her belly, and when the baby kicked again, Little Elk grinned at her. “With strength like that the baby is sure to be a son.”

  Fawn threw up her hands. “I give up. A son is acceptable with me. But right now, he lays heavy against my bladder. If you will excuse me, I need to step outside.”

  * * * *

  The pounding of hooves woke Fawn. She rolled over expecting to find Little Elk next to her, but he was gone. She scrambled to her feet and scurried outside to see about the commotion, still hugging her blanket around her shoulders.

  The rising sun, having just crested the horizon, tinted the sky in various hues of orange and yellow. She squinted to adjust her vision between the lodge’s dimness and the coming daylight, and cocked her ear toward the riders.

  A large band, about fifty braves she thought, gathered on horseback in the middle of the village. Their faces, like their horses, displayed paint in a rainbow of colorful designs. Little Elk had explained about such decorations, but seeing them was quite an impressive sight.

  Lone Eagle stood before two of the war-bonneted riders. Fawn couldn’t make out what he said, but his hand gestures indicated agitation. Curiosity gnawed at her, and she scanned the area for her husband.

  Green Eyes and Rain Woman came to stand with her, their curiosity as apparent as her own. “He-Ha-Ney Wash-Tay.” The old grandmother greeted Fawn.

  “Good morning to you, too,” Fawn responded in Lakota.

  “This does not look good.” She gestured to the riders, her brow furrowed.

  “What do you think they want?” Fawn asked.

  “From the coup feathers in their hair and the fact that they are from various tribes, I would say they are gathering a war party,” Rain woman explained.

  “How can you tell, Un`ci?” Fawn considered the old woman her grandmother, too.

  “They speak in sign.”
She used her right index finger and chopped at her left one. “This means Cheyenne.” Drawing in midair, she imitated the movement of a snake. “This means Comanche.”

  “He is Pawnee.” Green Eyes indicated the rider with two fingers in a V. “Probably a renegade. Those people are usually friends to the wasichu and enemies to us.” She assessed the remaining riders. “The rest are most likely Brule or other Ogalala Sioux. Many villages are represented here.”

  Fawn was in awe. “How do you know such things?”

  “Rain Woman taught me when I first came to be with the people. Speaking in sign was helpful until I learned Lakota because all tribes understand sign. But you cannot say everything with your hands. You can only communicate simple things.”

  “What is the sign for Lakota?” Fawn interlaced her fingers.

  Green Eyes drew her hand across her neck in a cutting motion.

  Fawn copied her then looked again at the mounted group. She hungered to learn more and pointed to the flank of a Pinto. “What do all the symbols mean? See the colorful hand print on that horse?”

  “A flat hand means the rider killed an enemy in combat,” Rain Woman responded. “And the lines on the animal next to it mean the rider has counted coup.”

  “Counted coup?” That phrase kept cropping up. Fawn had heard so many she couldn’t keep them straight. “That means the rider touched an enemy, right?”

  “Touched an enemy in the presence of others and lived to tell about it,” Rain Woman clarified. “The greater the risk, the more the warrior is honored. When he returns and reveals his encounters at tribal council, and someone who witnessed his bravery testifies to the truth of his words, he is awarded a coup feather. The colors and notches of the feathers tell all of his achievements. To capture the coup feather of an enemy is a great honor.”

  Fawn rolled her eyes. “My head is spinning. Little Elk has told me many things, but I see I have a long way to go before I know everything there is to know about the people.”