by L. E. Waters
I pick up my pace, and I’m quickly behind her. I jump from behind, bringing her down below the hay. She laughs and pants from all the running and, when I go to grab her hand, she holds it out of reach. Pinning her down with my legs, I pry open her fingers, one by one, until the last stubborn two fingers clench over the flint. I bring her hand up to my teeth and threaten to bite them. She shakes her head as though she doesn’t believe I will, and when I put them in my mouth, she squeals, releases the flint and pushes me off. I secure my flint in my pouch and lay back with my arms over my head in the grass. The sky is a true blue with no interruption of clouds. She lies down beside me and I have a feeling that we have done this before. I search my memory for when that would have been but can’t remember.
“Did you have a good buffalo hunt?” she asks out of the comfortable silence.
“I took down eleven.” I watch her face to see what she thinks of that, and I’m happy to see her smile.
“Will you be going on raids soon?”
I wonder why she asks these questions, and part of me jumps to the conclusion that she might want to know how I’m faring.
“I went on one last fall and got a horse. I will go again soon, though.”
Things are quiet, and she stands up. “I should go back before mother finds me gone.”
“See you tonight?”
“At the Sundance.” She nods, and I watch her drift off through the grasses.
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The minutes with her feel so short, and the time between seeing her feels so long. I already miss her presence and have to go see mother to distract me until the Sundance begins. I watch her help the other squaws put up the huge ceremonial medicine lodge for the Sundance. The warriors and great hunters of the tribes now gather to volunteer for the dance. Hanska, Paytah, Chayton, and Otaktay all stand before Weayaya, naked except for their breechcloths and painted in their colors from head to toe. I wish I could have already become a warrior and stand there with them. A white painted form joins the group, and I watch Hanska step away from him. I’m unable to recognize him since his paint is so thick. The figure thumps his chest and identifies himself to the confused tribesmen. “Chase.”
We watch Weayaya carefully to see if a paleface will be allowed to take part in our sacred ceremony. Weayaya looks into Chase’s eyes and neither blinks. Weayaya closes his eyes and raises his hands slowly above his head.
When he brings them down, he nods. “You have proven yourself in the hunt. Now you can prove yourself in our Sundance.”
Hanska throws down his knife, which sticks in the ground, and walks away.
Weayaya simply says, “So it will be.”
He takes a bunch of dried sage from his bag and bends down slowly to catch it afire. He blows out the flames, and the sweet smoke wisps around his ancient face. Weayaya takes the herbs to each of the warriors and wafts the smoke around their heads. After he studies each one, he turns and says the names of twelve warriors—Chayton among them—to be the dancers. Otaktay is picked to be the guard, whose job it is to make sure the dancers endure. Chase seems unhappy to be left out, but he goes to find a seat under the medicine lodge to watch his first Sundance. The dancers sit around the inner circle as more than two hundred Lakotas come to find a seat.
Weayaya enters with his sacred medicine pipe, and everyone falls quiet as he lights the tobacco. He takes one long inhale and, with his eyes closed, releases the smoke from his nose. He then passes the pipe to his left, and after each dancer smokes, he’s given the bone whistle he must keep blowing throughout the long dance.
In the center of the circle is a skin, painted white on one side and black on the other, representing the wills of the Great Spirit. The dancers blow their whistles slowly, in unison, with their eyes fixed on the image in the center. The drums start up, and the people sing together as the dancers begin their journey. For two whole days, without breaks, water or food, the dancers will have to watch the image and keep blowing their whistles as they move. If they take their eyes off the Great Spirit or if they collapse before two days, they will greatly shame our people and disgrace themselves. It’s our job to cheer them on to keep them going.
A richly adorned Mika sits beside her mother on the opposite side of the circle. She has the most decorated dress on, beaded from the neck all the way down to the waist, in shiny blue beads. Her moccasins are covered in the same blue beads, and she has many quill and bead necklaces of every color around her neck. The children leave the teepee to play their favorite games, and I follow. Mika gives us a sad glance as we leave, and I realize now she is an adult she can no longer play our games. We all get our sticks and fight each other for the ball. I try to show off when I see Wakinyan standing there with her friends, watching, and I’m thrilled when I score a goal. I turn around to see if she noticed, but she is no longer there. I give up the game to go looking for her.
I walk through the different camps and along the swollen riverbed. Not finding her anywhere, I go back to watch the Sundancers. Right away, I spot Wakinyan and realize I should have known she would go back to sit with Mika. They’re giggling, not noticing anyone else, not even me. I wish I could go and sit with them but since Mika is there, it’s forbidden.
A great scream catches my attention, and I look left to see Apawi run into the circle, completely covered in mud. Some laugh at his appearance, others watch stone-faced as he runs around the dancers. Apawi jumps around them, in an attempt to make them shift their eyes from the Great Spirit in the center. Their whistles blow faster, showing their quickened breathing. After trying to catch their eyes a few times, Apawi raises his lance and pokes the dancers, hard, in various sensitive places, but not one of the dancers avert their eyes. Apawi bows to the dancers and dashes out as we all clap in praise of their endurance.
I look across at the girls and see Mika’s mother nod to them. They get up and leave together. I immediately follow them. I try to stay back though, behind the various groups of old men or squaws who are busy talking to relatives they haven’t seen for months. But Mika keeps noticing me in the background, and she yells, “Something is tracking you, Wakinyan.”
Wakinyan turns and I stop, pretending to study something I quickly pull from my side bag. They break out in great laughter, but Mika waves to me as they disappear over the boulders down to the riverbed. I drop my act, tuck the item away, and bolt to jump from boulder to boulder in three smooth leaps and back to the ground right next to them, making both of them laugh as I stumble a bit to get my footing. They crouch down over their moccasins so their skirts don’t get soiled as I pick up flat pebbles and try to get them to skip across the water. Wakinyan can make a pebble hop two or three times before it plummets into the rushing depths below. I wish I had practiced this more but, knowing I can’t get it to skip more than once, I decide to pick up rocks and throw them as far as I can instead. The distance doesn’t seem to impress them, and Mika gives Wakinyan a knowing look and they both giggle again. We waste the next few hours laughing, skipping stones and sitting, listening to the music of the Sundance. Mika, realizing the time, stands up.
“Wakinyan, we must go.” Wakinyan looks back at me, and I see she wants to stay but has to walk Mika back under the watch of her mother. The two of them hop along the rocks away from me, holding their skirts above their knees.
That night, I sit with Hanska at the campfire while we feast. He says, “Tonight I am going to go stand for Mika.”
“I thought you were going to offer your ponies for her?”
He shakes his head. “No. I have heard that Chayton and Chase can both offer much more.”
I raise my eyebrows. “More than five ponies?”
He nods without even glancing up from the fire.
I whistle. “Her father is a fool to think he can get more than that.”
“She is a flirt, Kohana. Her father is no fool. He has turned down the offers because he sees great promise in what she can bring by keeping more men int
erested.”
“Well, you already have one wife so you can forget about her.”
He stands up. “No, I will win her still.” He walks off toward Mika’s teepee, and I run to catch up.
“What is your plan?”
“To get Mika to come out to talk with me.”
Chapter 9
Hanska stops at his teepee and, stepping right past his wife, who is sewing a shirt for him, pulls out a large buffalo blanket. Realizing what it’s for, his wife looks down and remains quiet. Just as quickly as he intrudes, he throws the blanket over his shoulder and walks with his head high, toward his destination. The sun has gone down, and the exhausted dancers are still wildly blowing their whistles in the background.
Hanska squints. “Is Chayton still on his feet?”
Chayton’s blue-feathered headdress spins by in the circle, and I nod. Hanska looks disappointed. He gives me a quick shove that throws me off balance. “Get away now. I don’t want Mika to think you are also here for her.”
I go as far away as I can while still being able to observe him. As a child I saw many men court women and draw them from their teepees but, with my time approaching, I now have to pay close attention. Hanska drapes his robe loosely across his broad back and stands with his arms crossed, watching the teepee entrance. Nothing happens for quite a while, but Hanska doesn’t move. Suddenly, someone plays a flute. I turn my head to hear where it’s coming from, but it sounds as though it’s drifting in and around the teepees like the wind. Whoever plays is skilled, and the melody of the song is not one that I’ve ever heard before. Hanska, hearing it also, leans to his left to see who plays, and a look of deep hatred creeps across his face.
There strides Chase, still painted from his attempt to join the dance and dressed in the finest Lakota adornments. His hair, even though he’s been growing it all winter, is still one-third the length of ours. I’m not sure if I like his assimilation or resent it. He walks right next to Mika’s teepee and keeps playing the love song, even under Hanska’s burning stare. After the song finishes, the teepee flap pulls back, and Mika’s delicate, smiling face appears. Once she is outside, she gazes at Chase, who is standing still with his flute in his hands. She turns to Hanska and gives him a sweet smile but then walks very close to Chase. They stand there awkwardly for a moment until Chase remembers the tradition and brings the buffalo robe up from his shoulders and over their heads. Mika’s mother comes out of the teepee to fetch some more wood for her fire, and she respects her daughter’s choice by not looking at them.
I’m the only one studying them, that is, besides Hanska. He seems to wait a long time, hoping for her to notice him, but giggling starts fluttering out from under Chase’s blanket. Hanska finally lets out a hard, frustrated breath and walks away in the opposite direction. I wait until Mika pulls back the blanket, smiles at Chase and turns back into the teepee. Chase watches the teepee for a moment, then picks up his flute and plays another happy song as he walks away, taking the notes with him.
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The next morning, on my way to see how the dancers have fared overnight, I spy one of Hanska’s good ponies tied beside Mika’s teepee. I smile when I realize he’s now trying to give her gifts to gain her favor; it’s his only way to compete with the flute. Chayton moves slowly now, and his whistles sound desperate as he struggles for breath. All of the dancers look like this. They no longer sweat, since they have no water left, and every time one appears as though he’s about to stumble, Otaktay yells, “You cannot quit! Keep moving or shame yourself. Shame us. Shame the Great Spirit!”
And the dragging, dehydrated man tries to keep going longer. This is always the most interesting part of the dance. We all watch to see who will fall first. Weayaya stands outside the sacred circle, studying.
One of the dancers falls abruptly, like a deer thrown down onto the dirt from your shoulders. Some of the women scream as men carry him out with Weayaya following. I go out to watch as Weayaya paints the unconscious man. Weayaya’s cracked and low voice sings his prayers as he covers the dancer with medicine paint. The man doesn’t come to, so Weayaya motions toward the river, where the fallen dancer is dunked in the cold spring water. The man comes up spluttering, and his relatives wail in high voices, trying to save him from further dancing. The warrior’s father pleads and promises grandfather one of his hunting ponies. Weayaya nods, to the relief of the women, and they take the fallen man to a teepee to bring him back to health.
I go back to cheer on Chayton, who stumbles and blows his whistle irregularly. Every time he comes around I’m sure he will fall but, amazingly, he stays on his feet with his eyes fixed to the center. There’s a commotion in camp, and I turn to see Hanska between the teepees, waving his arms, speaking with his voice raised. I get to my feet immediately and run toward him. There, in the clearing, stands Hanska and Chase. Far apart enough to show discord but not close enough to be threatening.
“Do you not see my ponies tied here?” Hanska shouts as he gestures quickly toward the two brown-and-white mares, causing them to startle and pull at their ropes.
“I am only bringing a gift to Otaktay,” Chase says, as he lays down an armful of weapons and ammunition that our red hands can’t make.
Hanska kicks hard at the ground, causing stones to lift high in the air and the dirt to waft around his strong, stiff form. “My ponies were here first!”
Chase, remaining incredibly calm, even smiling, says, “I have been bringing gifts to Otaktay all winter.”
Hanska stills and takes in what he said. His shoulders pull higher as he draws a deep breath, filling up his stature that much more. “He has not accepted your offers all winter?”
Chase, still smiling, replies, “Don’t get too excited there. He has not accepted anyone’s offer.”
Hanska looks confused now. “How long will you keep bringing gifts without getting anything in return?”
Chase laughs. “Until I am the last one bringing gifts.” He turns and walks away to his teepee.
Hanska, appearing much smaller now, sees the audience that has gathered. Embarrassed, he marches over to the frightened ponies and leaves only one tied as he walks away with the others. I glance at Mika’s teepee, wondering if she’s inside and heard the competition over her. Two arms, wrapped in blue beaded bracelets, reach out from behind the teepee flap and pull in each gift Chase left.
By the time I return to Sundance lodge, the music and dancing has ceased. I walk to Weayaya who sings prayers over Chayton. He says, “Chayton has been the last dancer to fall. He has done well.” Weayaya nods for him to be revived.
I follow as the sweet aroma of the burning sage wafts out behind him. Many drums are beaten, hard and fast, to announce the end of the dancing and the beginning of the next test. Weayaya walks back into the circle and, with a bald eagle feather in one hand and the smoking sage in the other, he speaks to the Great Spirit. Afterward, he turns to his people. “It is now time to sacrifice for the Great Spirit. Who will volunteer to prove our strength and thanks?”
Just then, Apawi throws his hands into the air, screams in terror and runs out the lodge. Laughter erupts and breaks the tension of the moment. Everyone’s shoulders seem to relax slightly as a few young warriors stand in the circle for Weayaya to study. Surprisingly, Paytah stands up and walks slowly before Weayaya. A gasp is heard among the crowd as Chase stands and pushes his way through the sea of beads and feathers.
Reynard lets out a loud laugh as he slaps his knee, hard. “This will be good.”
Before Chase reaches the inner circle, Hanska stomps through the people and stands right beside Chase without looking at him. After fifteen men stand in a line and no others emerge, Weayaya walks slowly to the first in line. Without making a sound, he peers into each man’s eyes. Women shush babies as the air thickens. He goes back to the first in line and nods once to the warrior to tell him he is chosen. Then to the second in line he shakes his head, and the warrior’s head drops
in disappointment. When Weayaya comes to Paytah, he pauses longer than the others. He looks as though he is about to shake his head but then quickly turns it into a nod, and Paytah’s eyes light up. Weayaya moves on to stand before Chase. Weayaya’s eyes narrow as his head tilts back in thought. Without hesitation, Chase pulls his knife from his belt and slices a two-inch gash on his chest. Everyone stirs at Chase’s strength and action, and Reynard yells out, “That just proves you’re crazy!”
Weayaya smiles at his proof and nods for him to join. Hanska’s jaw juts out at Chase’s show of endurance, and he whips out his knife and makes two gashes on his chest. Weayaya nods at this too and then brings his hands up to seat the others he has not picked. Weayaya says a prayer over them all to give them strength.
The warriors go and sit around in a circle with their legs crossed and hands rested on their knees. Some of the older warriors, all with thick white scars from Sundances of old, kneel in front of them and pull out their sharpest knives. Hanska is first to be cut. Weayaya comes and whispers direction to the cutter. Hanska fixes his stare as the warrior slices two parallel vertical cuts on either side of the cuts he already made on his chest. Hanska only clenches his jaw slightly. The cutter then sticks his knife under the incision crudely, and Hanska coils his fist as the cutter pulls his muscle away from the bone to insert the wooden toggle beneath.
Everyone cheers as he takes the pain so well.
Weayaya, pleased with Hanska’s fortitude, moves on to Paytah. He whispers to his cutter who sinks the knife into Paytah’s flesh. Paytah struggles to keep his composure, but as the cutter pulls away the flesh for the toggle, Paytah winces, and a hush falls across the camp. The cutter withdraws his knife without making eye contact with Paytah. Paytah drops his eyes also.
Weayaya comes over and says, “Paytah, it is my fault. I should have known you were not ready.”
