A moment later she slowly raised her head to look up at him, and he knelt down in front of her, grasping the back of her neck. She stiffened and stared at him.
“Tell me, white woman. Tell me what you think of Cheyenne men. You think perhaps I would truly beat you … perhaps rape you and throw you to the dogs!” He shoved her away. “I tell you now, if you think this of Swift Arrow, then you still have the heart of a white woman and not a Cheyenne! If you are so afraid of me, then you still have not learned! When a Cheyenne woman has done something wrong, she looks her man in the eye and asks for her punishment so that the Gods will be pleased with her again. She is not afraid to admit the truth—that she has done something wrong.”
“You are not my man. And I’ve done nothing wrong,” she answered through tears.
“I am your keeper. And you did do something wrong! You looked upon the sacred arrows! No woman looks at the arrows, and to have it be a white woman …” His hands went into fists.
“I tell you I’ve done nothing wrong! Something made me go there, Swift Arrow. For all these days I’ve done nothing but think about the things you have told me … about the earth and the sky and the animals … about all things moving in one step together. And tonight … I had to see the arrows! I don’t know why. I wasn’t trying to dishonor your beliefs. I just had to see them. And when I did, I felt something … like if I… if I looked upon my own Jesus. Have you heard about the white man’s Jesus?”
Some of the anger left his eyes. “I have heard he was a great prophet, like Sweet Medicine.”
“Yes,” she sniffed. “And he is very powerful also. Please believe me, Swift Arrow, I just had to see the arrows. I had to see them to understand the Cheyenne … to understand Zeke and his people. Please ask them to forgive me!”
“They will not! The only thing they will understand is punishment for atonement. And they would expect me to do the punishing! But I do not wish to bring harm to my brother’s woman. Why do you make such problems for me!”
Her mind raced with remorse and fright and near pity for Swift Arrow, for she had put him in a spot. And then it came to her. “You don’t have to punish me, Swift Arrow. Tell them … tell them I wish to atone for what I’ve done … by making a sacrifice at the Sun Dance.”
His eyes widened. “No! That would be worse!”
“It would be my choosing.”
“You do not know what takes place. You do not want to be a part of it. I will not allow it. They will not allow it. You must be punished here and now! If you want to walk out of here tomorrow and hope to live, then turn around now and drop your tunic to your waist!”
Her eyes widened and she backed up.
“I tell you they must know you have been punished!”
Her eyes filled with tears again. She had no choice if she wanted to survive. She turned and unlaced her tunic with shaking fingers, letting it fall to her waist, and Swift Arrow looked with pity on her small, white back.
“It is as hard for me to do this as it would be if you were my own sister,” he told her. She felt the sting of the quirt. Her body jerked, but she did not cry out. Again it slashed across her back, and again she kept silent. Three more times he lashed her, but she sensed he was deliberately not using his full strength. Then he took hold of her arm. “Do not move,” he told her. He called out, and Runs Slowly and Two Feathers entered to look upon her wounds. Swift Arrow said something to them in their own tongue and the two men grunted something in reply, then left. “Where is your bear grease?” Swift Arrow asked her when they were gone.
She held her tunic up over her breasts and nodded toward the other side of the tipi where a stone bowl sat with brown bear grease in it. Swift Arrow retrieved the bowl and came back over to Abbie, who stayed on her knees but was not weeping. She had expected him to go and get Gentle Woman, but in the next moment his own hands began applying the bear grease, and she could not believe that the very hands that had whipped her were now gently applying the soothing grease.
“In a day or two it will not hurt,” he was telling her. “You have made me do this. I did not want to hurt you. My brother will cut me open and stretch my hide for this. But I had no choice. What you have done will mean certain death for me at Zeke’s hands.”
“Then … we won’t tell him,” she replied quietly. He stopped in surprise.
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said. In a day or two the welts will be gone. Tell the others and Gentle Woman, that I do not want him to know about the arrows. If I am to be a true Cheyenne, I must accept my punishment. I’ll not go running to my husband to tell on you like a little child. I did something wrong. I deserved it. Tell the others it was just … just my ignorant white blood and poor understanding of your ways that made me do it. Tell them I beg their forgiveness.”
He began applying the bear grease again. “I thank you for this,” he told her, rubbing her back gently. Then he set the bowl down and stood up. “Perhaps there was a reason for what has happened. Perhaps the Great Spirit wanted you to see the arrows.”
“Perhaps.”
Gentle Woman came in then, and immediately she began to scold Swift Arrow in her own tongue when she saw Abbie’s back. Words were exchanged, but Swift Arrow did not raise his voice to his mother. He stalked out of the tipi, and Gentle Woman rushed over to Abbie, who was grimacing as she pulled the tunic back up around her shoulders.
“Abigail! Why did you do this?” the woman exclaimed. “Why did you look upon the arrows?”
“I … I’m not sure,” she replied in a near whisper. “Please leave me alone, Gentle Woman. I just want to be alone.” She lay down on her side, and Gentle Woman watched her for a moment with a frown. Then she simply sighed, and quietly left.
Dancing Moon did not like the dry, hot country to which she had been forced to flee. But she no longer cared that she had no home among her people. It was boring to live the life of the chaste Cheyenne and Arapaho maidens, and she wondered how any woman could bear to be the slave of only one man. She liked her new freedom, and she had soon learned wherein lay her powers. She had the ability to weaken men with her hungry eyes and provocative body. She could manipulate them by making them want her and then holding back, keeping them panting at bay. And with this power, she would survive!
Already she had managed to use those powers on Mexican gun runners, who had made her their captive and had raped her. But it was not long before they felt they were the ones being raped, and the beautiful Dancing Moon soon had them under her own scheming control, playing one man against the other and offering them her services for food and supplies and a place to sleep. It seemed a very nice exchange to the Mexicans, and it was not long before Dancing Moon used her wit and bodily skills to become the property of the leader of the men, one Manuel Artigo, who was soon promising her a place at his right hand, money, and pretty clothes, if she slept only with him and not with the other men.
Dancing Moon promised to do so, although she had no intention of keeping such a promise. And all the while she watched and listened and learned about the business of gun running, quickly surmising that doing things that were against the law could bring great riches. She rode with them to a place called the Devil’s Pits, where they were to set up camp and wait for two wagons bearing smuggled rifles and dynamite to aid in their war against the United States.
It was all arranged. When the wagons reached Devil’s Pits, the drivers would be killed, and Manuel, Dancing Moon, and the others in Manuel’s outlaw gang would be well paid to take the guns on south into Mexico, while one of their men would ride north to Santa Fe with a payment of pure gold for Mr. Jonathan Mack in return for arranging for the shipment of more rifles.
With the rifles they thought Mexico had a chance of winning the war and keeping Santa Fe. They did not know that Jonathan Mack had every confidence that the United States would win, and that to him, the smuggled guns were merely another means of getting richer. Both Dancing Moon and Jonathan Mack were hopi
ng to profit from the Mexican War by what they considered a well-planned scheme. However, Mack had underestimated the driver he had hired; and Dancing Moon had no idea that driver was none other than Cheyenne Zeke.
Abbie rode quietly at the back of the tribe, shunned by all except Gentle Woman. Even Tall Grass Woman was forbidden to speak to the white woman who had looked upon the Sacred Arrows. But Abbie could tell whenever Tall Grass Woman looked at her that she regretted the order not to talk to her, for the young girl’s brown eyes showed regret and sorrow whenever she looked at Abbie.
Abbie missed talking to her good friend Tall Grass Woman, as she missed the sewing circles and helping in the care of the other women’s little brown babies. She missed the companionship of those with whom she had made friends. She was an outcast, one whom they would tolerate simply because a promise had been made to care for her until Zeke returned. Abbie felt like something abnormal, as though she had an affliction that made her horribly ugly and deformed. For that was how some of them looked upon her. She was forced to erect her tipi away from the others, to bathe downstream from the others, to draw her water alone. No one helped her with firewood or with her horse or tipi. Gentle Woman could talk to her and advise her, but she could not help Abbie. And Abbie’s loneliness was only made more painful by Zeke’s continued absence. Her thoughts were full of him and her heart cried out for him.
Where could he be? Why did he not come and save her from this awful loneliness and rejection? What was to become of her?
On the fifth day after the encounter over the arrows, Abbie washed her utensils alone. They were camped at the base of the White River in Nebraska Territory, not many days from the meeting with the Sioux. Abbie dreaded the meeting now, and she tried not to think about it as she scrubbed at a tin pot with sand.
Beside her lay her personal parfleche full of memories from her former life: her father’s fiddle, her little brother’s marbles, a locket that had belonged to her sister, and her mother’s cross. These things were all she had left of her family and of the white life she’d once led in that distant place called Tennessee.
She set the pot down on a rock and reached into the parfleche, removing a dress she had saved, a pretty yellow ruffled one. She held it to her bosom and stood up, remembering that night with the wagon train the year before, when Zeke had played his beautiful mandolin and had sung Tennessee songs for her. She had worn the dress then, wanting to look pretty for him. She twirled around, holding out the skirt of the dress; it was now badly wrinkled from being packed for so long. She pretended she was dancing for Zeke, and he was watching her with his dark eyes, wanting her in his mysterious, provocative way.
She hummed a waltz, whirling and whirling, while tears streamed down her cheeks. She pretended little Jeremy was there, laughing and watching her. Little Jeremy! Poor little Jeremy, whose horrible suffering had been ended by Zeke’s blade at Abbie’s request. The thought stopped her dancing, and she burst into loud sobbing, throwing down the dress and holding her stomach. She felt sick with grief and fright and loneliness. Zeke! Where was Zeke?
She wept bitterly, her sobbing drowning out the screams of Tall Grass Woman, who had been bathing her small daughter in the river upstream from where Abbie sat. But after a moment Abbie realized someone was shouting in panic, and she looked up, wiping at her eyes.
Tall Grass Woman was running along the bank, screaming and jumping up and down and pointing, while others came running, including Swift Arrow and some of the men, ready to do battle against whatever enemy had come to do harm to the women. But no enemy was there. The only thing to be seen was little Magpie being carried swiftly down river, her little brown arms flailing in the deep waters.
Abbie hesitated for a moment, wondering why on earth Tall Grass Woman did not go into the water after her child. Instead she screamed something in Cheyenne, and then held her head in her hands.
“Ai-ee!” she shouted, joined by the other mourning women, who were certain little Magpie would drown. “Ai-ee! Ai-ee!”
Abbie looked quickly from them to the little girl, who was apparently losing her battle with the deep waters. She looked back at Swift Arrow.
“Why doesn’t she save her child!” she screamed.
Swift Arrow looked at her with desperation in his eyes, and for the first time Abbie understood how deeply the religion and superstitions of this ancient people ran.
“The deep waters—they hold monsters and evil spirits!” he told her with regret. “There is nothing we can do for Magpie!”
Abbie’s eyes widened in horror. “No! You’re wrong! I’ll show you you’re wrong!” She turned and dived into the river.
“Stop!” Swift Arrow shouted. “Do not go, Abigail!”
They all stood on the bank and watched in horror as Abbie swam out toward little Magpie, struggling to reach her before the girl floated past.
“Help me, Jesus!” Abbie found herself praying as she struggled through the swift, cold waters. She coughed and choked, having trouble herself keeping afloat as she swam toward the little girl. Her ears and nose filled with water, and she grunted as her body jolted against a large rock just as Magpie floated past. Hanging on to the rock with one hand, she reached out and grabbed one of Magpie’s braids with the other. The child screamed and struggled with fright, but Abbie grasped the rock, while she pulled until little Magpie’s head was very close to her; then she quickly reached out and grasped the tiny girl.
“Ho-shuh!” Abbie told the crying, choking girl, remembering the Cheyenne words for be still, be confident. “Ho-shuh, Magpie!”
Magpie grasped Abbie tightly around the neck, and Abbie urged the little girl to move around to her back and hang on, giving her a gentle push in that direction. As Abbie let go of the rock, she and Magpie were carried from it by the powerful current. Magpie screamed and hung on so tightly that Abbie was afraid she would choke to death before she reached the bank. The water carried them farther downstream, and Abbie could see the People running along beside them so they could help them out of the water. When she got close to the bank, Swift Arrow ran into the stream and grasped her arms. Pulling her up and keeping an arm about her waist, he helped her to shore, where she collapsed with Magpie.
Tall Grass Woman grabbed her little girl and screeched out a Cheyenne cry of happiness, holding up the little girl and weeping, and the others cheered while Swift Arrow helped a drenched and panting Abigail to stand.
“Get a blanket!” he ordered. To Abbie’s amazement, Runs Slowly was quickly at her side, throwing around her shoulders a colorful blanket that he had been bringing to the river for his woman to wash. He pushed her ahead of him and shouted something to the others, patting her on the head, and Tall Grass Woman’s husband, Falling Rock, came forward and handed Abbie his bow and two arrows. Two Feathers also came forward and, taking a coup feather from his hair, stuck it into one of Abbie’s wet braids. He smiled at her and stepped back; then Swift Arrow walked up beside her and put an arm around her shoulders.
Abbie looked up at him in astonishment. “What … what are they doing?” she asked him. Swift Arrow grinned.
“They are thanking you and giving you their good-luck pieces. You have done a great thing this day, woman of Lone Eagle. You braved the evil spirits of the deep waters and conquered them to save one of our own. You are greatly honored!”
Abbie could hardly believe her ears. Runs Slowly was giving some kind of speech to the others, waving his arms and pointing to Abbie. Then he came up to her again, and handing her his knife, said something to her in his own tongue. He looked at Swift Arrow and stepped back.
“Runs Slowly says this is a great thing you have done,” Swift Arrow told Abbie. “He says now the People know why the spirits led you to the Arrows and made you look upon them. It was to give you the strength you would need to brave the deep waters. You are forgiven by all for looking upon the arrows. He says”—the next words seemed difficult for him to say—“he says it is you who should forgive us for punishin
g you for doing something the spirits intended you to do. If the arrows gave you courage and gave you an understanding of the People, then it is good after all. Today we have seen the purpose of what you did.” He moved around to face her. “Swift Arrow also asks your forgiveness,” he said with near-shame on his face.
Their eyes held, and she suddenly felt warm and alive and loved again by this people who could change so quickly.
“There is nothing to forgive,” she replied. “You did what you had to do. And my strength came from my own Jesus, Swift Arrow. When I looked at the arrows … I thought of my God then, too. Perhaps … perhaps your Great Spirit and God are the same.”
He grinned, a rare sight for Abigail; she had not seen him smile since she’d looked at the arrows. “Perhaps this is so.” He turned to the others and shouted something in Cheyenne; then he gave out a war cry and surprised Abbie by grabbing her about the waist and lifting her. He cried out again, and the others raised arms and weapons and gave out one war cry in unison in honor of the white woman who had saved Magpie.
Swift Arrow set her on her feet again and laughed. “My heart sings!” he told her. “For now we know Zeke’s wife has a purpose among us! We are your friends forever, woman of Lone Eagle! Never fear us again! Whatever happens, we will be with you. We will protect you. You may speak to the other women again. The spirits have made this happen to open our eyes. Now you are beginning to understand! This I know. Come! There will be feasting tonight, and the council will gather and offer special prayers for Zeke. You will pray for us, for your prayers are powerful!” He pushed her along and the others walked with them. “You are my sister now,” Swift Arrow told her. “Mine and Red Eagle’s and Black Elk’s. You are our mother’s daughter and our father’s daughter. You are a daughter of the People.”
Abbie did not reply. Her throat hurt with the tears she was choking back—tears of joy. Zeke! If only Zeke were here now!
Ride the Free Wind Page 22
