by L. E. Waters
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The next night, I go to her camp after dark since the last thing I want is to bump into Mato. By the time I get there, I see two other young warriors crouched with buffalo blankets outside her teepee. A flare of jealously surges through me, and I realize these must be warriors from the other camp. I feel like fighting each one, sending them all home for salve, but I know that Lakota tradition won’t allow that. I just have to sit there, watching the tent flap.
Nagi finally catches up to me from his joy flight and caws a crackly, loud sound. Immediately, the flap flings up and Wakinyan pours out on the ground, ungracefully. The one warrior closest to her, dashes over to her to help her up. I stand up stiffly, watching what he will do, but she pulls away from his grasp and runs straight to me. My chest swells with pride.
I throw the blanket over our heads and she laughs. “He almost got me!”
“You are popular now, I see.”
We walk under the blanket back to our spot by the riverbed, and she lies down.
“Your father didn’t accept my ponies.” I say right away. She nods sadly. I watch her carefully. “So you will just have to wait for me to get more.”
She breathes a sigh of relief. “Unless I get a better offer.”
I punch her playfully in the arm, and she erupts in melodious giggles. I notice the tight skin of her belly and rest my head upon it. After a moment, I say, “By the noises you are making I think you need Weayaya.”
She laughs so hard her belly shakes my head. She takes my hair and twirls it around on her finger. “How is Mika?”
“She does not look happy with Hanska.”
The twirling slows. “She wanted Chase to win her.”
I think for a moment. “If your father made you marry another, would you obey him?” She stops twirling. “I would have to honor my father, Kohana.”
I sit up right away.
“You would not fight for me at all?” I say, too loudly, causing Nagi to fly from his tree and come to land on my shoulder.
She springs to her feet. “I should go back now.”
Everything spins out of control. I try to grab her hand, but she walks away too quickly. I run after her, leaving my blanket on the ground. One of the other warriors, still waiting for her to come back, walks toward her and I push him back so hard he falls, rolled up in his blanket. Wakinyan doesn’t seem to even notice and flees into her teepee. Once she’s inside, I can’t go in after her. I kick a rock toward the boy tangled in buffalo skin, hitting him, and take off running the long way back home.
Chapter 17
I stay away from Wakinyan’s for a week, even though it eats at me that she’s probably visiting with those other suitors by now. I go to Otaktay’s teepee each day, begging him to plan another raid. I sit at the fire in our camp, staring at the orange flames lapping, when Paytah emerges from Weayaya’s lodge. I perk up immediately.
“Paytah!” I yell as I run toward him. He puts his hands up, looking embarrassed, and shifts his weight with great pain as he walks. The leg from the wounded hip drags on the ground behind him with each step. Weayaya comes out offering a walking stick for him to use. Paytah just throws it across toward the fire and slinks away to his teepee at the edge of camp.
We both watch after him and Weayaya says, “You must take care of Paytah.”
I nod, and he heads back into his lodge.
Finally, Otaktay proclaims we’ll go on a weeklong raid. We scout the countryside in every direction, seeking opportunistically lost or wandering ponies. By the end of the week, I take three more ponies. Mato, of course, takes five. When we part camps, Mato has the ponies all trotting behind him. He glares back at me and chuckles at the three small ones I have behind me. Guessing already what the answer will be, I ride with Hanska with my six ponies anyway. There are already five ponies tied by Wakinyan’s teepee, painted with the name of another warrior.
Hanska shakes his head as he ties three of the six up. “This does not look good.”
We walk away and sit by the river, waiting to see if Mato accepts mine into the pony herd. Between skipping stones, Hanska keeps looking back and shaking his head. I turn at the sound of horses riding into camp. Heading up the small party is a familiar face—Chase. Instead of his Lakota clothes, he wears the white man’s heavy wool from head to toe. Behind him ride two other trappers, one yellow-haired, the other dark-haired. They tie their ponies, and I stiffen as Mato comes out of his teepee, and Chase translates for them.
Hanska stops throwing rocks. “Can you tell what they are saying?”
I shake my head, straining to hear. My heart stops when Mato yells, “Wakinyan!” Then drops as her green moccasin feet step out and run to her father’s side. She stands there with her hands folded in front of her, and her head down toward the ground. The yellow-haired man with the wide-brimmed hat steps right in front of her and studies her from head to toe. Mato roughly lifts her chin up high and points to her eyes. The yellow-haired man smirks. I start to move and hear Hanska just behind me. I stop a few feet behind Mato and Wakinyan. Mato slowly turns around to see who is there and gives me a snide smile. He turns back around to ask, “What is his offer, Chase?”
Chase translates, and the French trapper walks to his horse, opening his heavy side bags. The trapper brings out four muskets and five large boxes of rounds. My stomach turns—ponies can never compete with guns. Mato’s eyes shine as he sees the slightly used weapons, and Wakinyan drops her eyes again. Hanska pulls my arm back with him as he tries to take me away. The yellow-haired man finally notices me and sets his eyes on me, revealing his pinched up face with its puffy, small lips, like a trout. I throw Hanska off me and yell to the trapper, “Trout face! Go back to the trading post and leave our women here.”
The trapper only smiles, and his blank eyes stare right past me. “I am Peirpont. I am a friend of the Sioux—”
“Sioux!” I shout. “We are Lakota, not Sioux!” Hanska now aggressively holds me back. “The Ojibwa call us Sioux. It means ‘little snakes’! You are not a friend if you call us Sioux!” I throw my knife at his feet, and it sticks in the ground right in front of his worn leather boots.
Chase steps in front of him. ”Kohana, calm yourself. I did not know you wanted Wakinyan.”
Hanska now has both of my hands behind my back, and I struggle to free them. “You are no longer my friend either!”
Chase shakes his head and rests a hand on the knife at his side. “Oh, but any friend of Hanska’s is always a friend of mine.” He turns and walks back to his horse, facing away from us, waiting for the other trappers to leave with him.
I look at Wakinyan, who studies something on the trapper’s chest. I look closer and see the crossed symbol on a gold chain—the same as in Wakinyan’s vision. I thrash again in Hanska’s arms. Mato laughs, enjoying my pain, and without the translator, Mato puts his hands out to accept the guns and ammo.
I scream, “Wakinyan is mine! I will go find five guns, Mato!”
But Hanska drags me away, back to the river. Nagi flies down on top of Hanska’s head and starts pecking hard in my defense. Hanska keeps his hold on me despite Nagi’s efforts.
Chase turns his horse and screams so Hanska hears, “Give my love to Mika for me.” Hanska keeps dragging, but Chase continues, “Oh, and Hanska, to a trapper a rope is just a rope!” He smiles widely and holds up a long steel knife.
Hanska drops me for a minute to go after Chase, causing Nagi to take flight. But when I scramble to get to my feet with my tomahawk in hand he jumps on me again and takes me all the way to the river to plunge me in, over and over again. When he keeps me under long enough that I’m panting for air, he releases me. I stumble out and up the bank to collapse on my knees. I lift my head in time to see the trappers ride out of camp. Both Mato and Wakinyan have gone back into their teepee. I throw a stick at Hanska with all the might I have left.
Hanska puts his arms up. “I was helping you!”
But I walk away to my cliff, leaving my useless ponies behind.
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I sit up on the rock I found Nagi on, and he spots me. Nagi comes swooping back to me in his clumsy, raven way, making me smile despite my great sadness. His feathers are so shiny from the rain they appear greasy. I stare out across the valley until dark clouds set in, and the rain starts falling, joining my tears.
I know Chase’s heartbreak now.
“Kohana?”
I quickly wipe my tears away and slide down the rock to a drenched Wakinyan.
She has come back to find me!
I take her shoulder and bring her to our cave. We’re both much bigger since the last time we were there. Once inside, she looks up across the small distance between us and says, “Kohana, I have no choice.”
I throw my head back and hit the cave wall with a good pain.
“Do not make this harder for me, Kohana.”
I laugh, still looking up at the ceiling just above me. “You are right. How selfish of me.”
There is a long silence as neither one of us knows what to say next. I bring my gaze back to her and almost get sick at how beautiful her face looks, wet from the rain. She reaches down beside her into a bag she carries and brings out two moccasins. She holds them out to me, and I take them slowly.
They’re wonderfully made from the softest deerskin, stitched perfectly and with the most beautiful rainbow of beads, creating an unfamiliar symbol on each one.
“Do these beads look familiar?” She smiles.
I glance down to see what she means.
“I made these from all of the beads you left for me.”
I can’t speak as I run my fingers along the bumpy, tight beads. After some time I say, “What does this mean?” Pointing to the pattern.
“It is our two sacred circles. You”—she points to one circle—“and me”—she then points to the other. “The circle of the teepee. The circle of our tribe. The circle of life. Our two circles are forever connected, and time or distance cannot separate us.”
I laugh in attempt to hold back the tears. “Are these the moccasins you made to slow me down?”
She laughs but then becomes serious again. “No, these are for you to soar.”
She then turns and steps out of the cave, leaving me and the moccasins behind. When I know she is far enough away, I cry along with the sky.
On the way down the cliff, I spy Zonta standing alone in the rain. Now that I’m not going to be with Wakinyan, I can look her in the eye. She holds a tanned hide over her head to keep the rain off, making two small streams on either side of her. I step to walk by her.
“Kohana, I must speak with you.”
I turn back to her respectfully.
“I do not want Wakinyan to marry a white man.”
I’m encouraged by her unexpected defiance. “Have you tried to sway Mato?”
She looks off to the side for a moment. “Mato will not be swayed.”
“Why, then, are you telling me this?” I’m at the end of all patience now and feel like getting away from everyone.
“Because, I will help you elope.” She stays still, her face strong.
The rain tapers off slightly so the streams turn into drips off the hide.
“Most couples who elope do not survive.” I say, shaking the hopeful thought away.
“Mato is leaving on a long hunting trip with the tribe in half-a-moon. You will go, but shortly after, sneak off and return here. Mato will be leaving behind his fastest war pony, faster than any other war pony in this tribe.” She continues, bringing her head up high, “I will give you his pony, and you and Wakinyan can flee into hiding, days before anyone will know she is gone.”
“When Mato comes home and sees you did not—”
“I care not what will befall me,” she interrupts. “I know white men’s hearts, and I put up with Mato for this long to give Wakinyan a better life, not to see her repeat mine.”
I can see the devotion in her dark-brown eyes. “If you would risk your life for Wakinyan, then so will I.”
She finally smiles and takes the hide from her head, not caring about the rain anymore. “The white man will not be returning for Wakinyan for one moon. That leaves you time to prepare a hiding spot where not even the most skilled tracker can find for a whole moon. If a moon passes, then you and Wakinyan can return back to me and everyone—even Mato—will have to accept your marriage.”
“What if Wakinyan will not come with me?”
She smiles again. “Wakinyan will be there.”
“Thank you, Zonta.” I bow my eyes to her for her help.
Her hand alights upon my shoulder for a moment. She starts to walk away but turns to say, “The heart gets what the heart wants.”
Chapter 18
I perfect my plan all night and leave before the sun to search for the ideal hide out. I finally find a deep cave behind some boulders. I remove a few of the smaller rocks and put down three of my buffalo robes inside. I make many trips back and forth with sacks of dried meat, dried berries, bladders of water enough for us to survive for one moon. My mother watches me remove the supplies from our storage lodge but says nothing to me about it. I spend the last week hunting for fresh meat that will hold my mother and little brother while I’m gone. The night before we’re to meet to plan the hunting trip for bear, I gather my usual hunting supplies and get my pack ready. Mother cleans up dinner then asks, “This is what you want?”
Without explaining, I say, “It is all I want.”
She nods, gives me a kiss, and goes into the teepee. I stay up late making arrows and rethinking every bit of the plan to be sure. I sleep only a few hours, and I’m up with the other warriors. When I see Mato, Chayton, and Otaktay riding toward me, the plan is now set in motion. I stay with them for one night but the next day, when they split into groups, I go off under the red sunrise and disappear. They will probably search for me for days, but it will only keep Mato that much longer. I race my pony to exhaustion, and my heart leaps when I see Zonta waiting there in front of the teepee, wrapped in her red blanket. But I slow when I see her unhappy face.
“Where is Wakinyan?”
She hesitates, and I know she is going to tell me something that will change my life forever.
“She has gone with the white man, Kohana.”
I scream and kick the pole holding her teepee, cracking it, and causing the teepee to lean. She stays remarkably calm, though. “I am sorry, Kohana. The Great Spirit changed our plans.”
“What do you mean?” I hit down to the ground with my hands, and I have to keep hitting things or else I’ll explode. I fall on my knees, look up to Zonta, and yell, “You promised me she would be here!”
I should have come back to check on things, but I was too busy preparing and pretending not to care for Wakinyan.
Zonta pauses, trying to get me to settle. “The next day after I spoke to you, Wakinyan found a white man washed up on the bank while she was doing her cleaning.”
“What white man?”
“It was a white man’s medicine man. Shot full of arrows in his back.”
“He was dead?”
“No, he was barely alive. When Wakinyan rolled him over she saw the symbol from her vision—”
I throw my hands on the ground and bang my head between them.
I hate her vision!
“Others in the tribe wanted to leave him for dead, but Wakinyan fought for his life. When Otaktay heard of her vision, he allowed her to nurse him back to health and Wakinyan felt as though it was a sign from the Great Spirit that she must go to the white man’s world if he recovered—”
An unearthly sound erupts out of me as something tears deep inside. I rock on my knees, back and forth, not even caring who sees me do so. Zonta just stands there, watching me with her hand over her mouth. “Kohana, I tried my best to help—”
“Did you? Did you tell her to wait for me? To forget about her foolish vision!”
She shakes her head. “No, it is not my right to tell one not to listen to their vision.”
I cry again but say, “I thought he was not coming back for one moon! It has been less than half-a-moon!”
She looks down. “He came back early, saying he finished his dugout sooner than expected.”
I throw up right on the ground. Everything rips from me. Zonta’s feet shuffle away, and Nagi lands on my heaving back. I get up quickly, shrugging him off, and scream, “What good is your medicine?”
I’m wearing the moccasins Wakinyan made me. I rip them off and throw them into the prairie where we used to run. Nagi hops to the ground, still by my side. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and get back on my horse to head to the hideout by myself. I see Nagi’s shadow opening and closing over my head, all the way there.
Chapter 19
I stay up there for weeks, hunting and living off the supplies. I start to pile up the fine pelts that the French are so fond of; the only thing we Lakotas have of value, besides our women. Nagi learns the animals I’m after and will fly ahead of me and circle where his keen eyes can spot them from his great height. One night I stay out past sundown, and I have four beaver pelts hanging from my saddlebag. Nagi swoops ahead of me and gives his warning sound. I stop the horse and search behind me. A grey wolf pounces out from the bushes, and I kick the horse to break away. I bring my armed bow behind me to see a whole pack of large wolves biting at my pony’s heels. I shoot one, and as it rolls behind, the other wolves turn to devour their own. I sit up that night watching my pony, knowing the pack is still near. By the end of one moon, I have to go and fetch two other ponies from camp to bring the piles of pelts down to the trading post. When I walk back to camp, Mother runs to greet me.
She wraps her strong arms around me. “I am glad you returned.”
“I have to get some ponies to go to the trading post.”
She freezes and stays quiet, in thought, as Hanska walks up and shouts, “Do you know how long we looked for you, Kohana?”
