Reckless Love

by Madeline Baker

  The following day, the shaman painted the Sun Dance pole with four different colors, each color representing one of the four corners of the earth. When that was done, cutouts of a male buffalo and an Indian warrior, both depicting beings with exaggerated genital organs, were placed in a fork in the tree. And then Shadow and the four venerable warriors did a war dance around the pole.

  I sat, enthralled, with Hawk, Mary and Blackie at my side. My children gazed, wide-eyed, at their father as he danced around the sacred pole. This day, this hour, Shadow was all Indian. His long black hair flowed loose about his shoulders, adorned with a pair of snowy white eagle feathers. His skin was sheened with a fine layer of sweat as he moved his feet in the intricate steps of the dance.

  ''He's beautiful," Mary whispered.

  And he was. He moved with a smooth, animal-like grace, his muscles rippling in the sunlight, his dark eyes glowing as he lost himself in the ancient magic of the dance.

  The next day, just before dawn, we gathered at the Sun Dance pole. The sky was a pale blue-gray, the forest quiet and damp with dew. From high in the treetops, a bird scolded us for disturbing his rest.

  Hawk stood beside the Sun Dance pole. He wore only a loincloth. His face was set in determined lines, his eyes riveted upon the face of Eagle-That-Soars-in-the-Sky. Shadow stood beside Hawk; he was also dressed in a loincloth and nothing else.

  Eagle-That-Soars-in-the-Sky lifted his arms above his head and began to chant a sacred prayer song as the sun rose above the trees. One by one, the other aged warriors joined their voices with his. The chant, sung in a minor key, seemed to penetrate my very soul. Images of warriors long dead flashed before my eyes: Crazy Horse, Calf Running, Black Elk. In my mind's eye I saw buffalo grazing on the grassy plains. I saw the Sacred Black Hills, the wild roses that grew along the banks of the Rosebud River, the valley of the Little Big Horn. I felt tears well in my eyes as I grieved for a way of life that was gone, and for my son, who had been born too late to live the life he yearned for.

  Hawk stood straight and proud as the old medicine man approached him. My son did not flinch as the shaman pierced the muscle over his left breast with a sharp knife. A slim wooden skewer was inserted into the opening made by the knife, and then the procedure was repeated on the right side. Rawhide thongs were attached to the skewers in my son's chest, the loose end was then attached to the Sun Dance pole. Hawk would pull against the thongs until his flesh gave way, freeing him from the pole.

  The ceremony was one I did not fully comprehend. I knew only that the Cheyenne believed that through their willingness to endure pain they would ensure prosperity for their tribe for the year to come. It was a chance for a man to prove his bravery, a chance to obtain a vision from Maheo.

  I took a deep breath as the medicine man moved to stand in front of Shadow. I had not been surprised when Shadow told me he was going to participate in the Sun Dance with Hawk. I knew he was doing it to give Hawk courage, to share his son's pain.

  It seemed to me that there was a subtle transformation in my husband as the medicine man pierced his flesh. It was no longer Shadow standing before me, but the Cheyenne warrior and chief, Two Hawks Flying.

  The medicine man completed his preparations and stepped away from Hawk and Shadow and now the drumming began, a constant throbbing that was like the beat of the Cheyenne heart, strong and invincible.

  Shadow and Hawk danced back and forth, moving toward the pole, moving away, bodies straining against the rawhide thongs that held them bound to the sacred pole. Faces lifted, they stared into the sun and when the pain grew unbearable, they blew upon eagle bone whistles. The notes were high-pitched and long, floating in the air like ghostly shafts of pain.

  Slowly, the sun climbed higher and higher in the sky. The air grew warm. Sweat poured from the faces and bodies of the dancers as they shuffled endlessly back and forth. Blood trickled from their wounds, mingling with their sweat.

  My heart ached for their pain, especially for Hawk. He did not have his father's rigorous upbringing to sustain him, he had only his tremendous desire to prove he was worthy to be a warrior in the old way.

  The hours passed. Blackie fell asleep, his head pillowed in my lap, but Mary remained awake, her eyes riveted on her father and her brother. Tears welled in her eyes as the minutes went by. And still Shadow and Hawk danced back and forth. Hungry, weary, in pain, they danced and they prayed, never hesitating, never stopping.

  Once Shadow's eyes met mine and I felt such a surge of love it was almost painful. I knew he had decided to participate in the dance not only to bolster Hawk's courage, but to beseech the spirits to bless our family. The tears came then, but they were tears of joy.

  It was just before sundown that Shadow's flesh gave way and he fell back, exhausted. Eagle-That-Soars-in-the-Sky went to him, chanting softly while he washed Shadow's wounds and then sprinkled them with healing herbs and sacred pollen.

  Moments later, Hawk pulled against the thongs with all his strength and his flesh tore free of the skewers. He fell to the ground, his eyes glazed with pain. He lay in a semi-stupor for several minutes and then fell into a deep sleep.

  Eagle -That -Soars -in -the-Sky tended Hawk's wounds and then Shadow bundled our son in a robe and lifted him onto Smoke's back. Swinging up behind Hawk, he started for home. Mary, Blackie, and I followed Shadow, leaving the four warriors to dismantle the sacred pole and erase all evidence of what we had done in the clearing.

  Later that night, when everyone else was in bed asleep, Shadow and I sat on the front porch holding hands.

  "Are you all right?" I asked.

  "I am fine," Shadow said, squeezing my hand. "It is a good kind of pain."

  "I was very proud of Hawk today, and of you, too."

  Shadow nodded. "He is a fine young man. He would have made a good warrior."

  "Did you have a vision?" I asked, unable to wait any longer.

  "Yes, Hannah. My old friends, the hawks, came to me. We will live to a ripe old age, you and I. And our children will all find happiness. This is what the hawks promised."

  "Do you believe it?"

  "Yes. They have never been wrong."

  "Do you think Hawk also had a vision?"

  "I am sure of it."

  The next day Shadow gave each of the Cheyenne warriors a horse for their time and trouble in preparing the Sun Dance ceremony and the men went back to the reservation.

  Later that day, Hawk felt like getting out of bed. I fixed him some hearty beef stew and he told us of his vision while he ate. The same yellow-tailed hawk had appeared to him. As before, the hawk had changed into a man. But this time a woman came out of a dark mist to stand beside the hawk-man. The woman's face was in shadow, but Hawk knew he would recognize the woman when he saw her, and that she would be his wife. Then the man was transformed into a hawk again. Rising into the air, the hawk disappeared into the sun. A single feather remained where he had been.

  My son held the feather in his hand now, a look of wonder on his handsome young face.

  "The hawk said I should always know happiness so long as I remained true to the things I had been taught by my father and Eagle-That-Soars-in-the-Sky. He said I should never be afraid to do what I know is right."

  Shadow nodded, his eyes warm with affection. "If you do as the hawk has said, you will always have peace in here."

  Shadow placed his hand over his heart. "If you are at peace with yourself, you need never be concerned with what other people think or say, for no one can destroy you except yourself."

  "I understand, nehyo," Hawk said. "I thank you for helping me to achieve my goal."

  There was a new bond of love and solidarity in our home after the Sun Dance. Mary and Blackie had gained a keener appreciation and respect for their father and elder brother, as well as new insight into their Cheyenne heritage. Though I had not participated in the dance itself, I, too, felt a deeper sense of inner peace.

  As the sweet summer days passed by, I knew the gods, red
and white, were indeed smiling down on our home, blessing us with peace and happiness.

  XXIV

  1895 -1896

  A few weeks after the Sun Dance, Rebecca received a letter from her daughter, Beth. The letter was long, filled with a glowing description of a young man Beth had met at a church social. His name was Jason Chatsworth. He was studying to be a lawyer. His parents were quite wealthy and lived in Pennsylvania. He was six feet tall, had black hair and gray eyes, a darling dimple in his chin, and was, in fact, the most wonderful man in the whole world.

  Six months later, a second letter arrived telling of Beth's engagement to her young man and asking Rebecca to please come back east for the wedding, set for June.

  "You've got to go," I said as I finished reading the letter. "After all, she is your only daughter. You don't want to miss her wedding, do you?"

  "Of course not, but I don't know how I'll get Sam to leave the ranch, and I wouldn't dream of making the trip without him."

  "Shadow and Hawk can look after the ranch while you're gone," I said. "Oh, Rebecca, just think, a chance to go east!"

  Rebecca smiled broadly. "It would be fun," she mused. "I'd love to go shopping and get some new things. I saw a darling hat advertised in one of the catalogs. And it would be wonderful to see Beth. I haven't seen her for such a long time."

  We spent the rest of the afternoon daydreaming about the trip back east and discussing what to buy Beth for a wedding present.

  It took some persuasive talking on Rebecca's part, but Pa finally agreed to go with her to Pennsylvania. Hawk said he would stay at the ranch while they were gone, and Blackie said he would stay and help, too.

  In the spring of '96, Pa and Rebecca left for Steel's Crossing to catch the train back east. Hawk and Blackie moved into Pa's cabin, and Mary decided to go along and keep house for the boys.

  Our own place seemed suddenly empty, and for the first time in years, I found myself with time on my hands. I spent a few hours each day riding with Shadow when he went to check on the horses. Our herd was growing every year, and Shadow's horses were eagerly sought after by our friends and neighbors. People came from miles away to buy a horse sired by Smoke and trained by Shadow. He broke each horse himself, and I never tired of watching him ride. Most of the horses we raised were gentle, tractable creatures. They were used to Shadow, used to being handled, and they didn't buck and pitch the way the horses caught wild off the range did. There was always an exception, however. Hawk's blue roan had fought man and saddle every inch of the way, but now he was a good reliable horse, just as Shadow had said he would be. Shadow was wonderful with horses. He never lost his temper, never grew impatient, never pushed a horse too far too fast.

  Now, riding through a pasture that held mares and their foals, I felt blissfully content. I smiled as a handful of colts and fillies began to chase each other, squealing loudly as they pranced around, heads and tails high. They were beautiful horses, no two alike. I was particularly fond of a little filly that was red with a white blanket and red spots.

  After checking the herd, Shadow and I went to the river crossing for lunch. I had packed a basket and we spent a lazy hour resting in the shade while we ate.

  "Hawk has been spending a lot of time with Victoria Bannerman," Shadow remarked, skimming a flat stone across the river.

  ''I know. Do you think its serious?"

  "At this age, everything is serious."

  I nodded. That was true enough. It was hard to imagine my children growing older and getting married. Somehow, I always thought of them as youngsters, yet Mary was fifteen already and far too beautiful for her own good. Her skin was flawless, her dark brown hair thick and wavy, her gray eyes clear and innocent. Already, the boys in the valley were finding excuses to visit her, to be with her. At church on Sunday, the young men scrambled to see who would sit beside her. At socials, they argued over who would have the first dance, who would fetch her supper, who would have the last dance. Mary basked in all the attention but then, what girl wouldn't? I worried about her constantly, afraid she would give her heart too soon. Next year she would be sixteen, the same age I had been when I fell hopelessly in love with Shadow. I only hoped my daughter would find the same happiness I had found. Shadow adored his daughter, and I wondered if he would consider any man good enough for her.

  And Hawkthe Sun Dance had in-deed turned him into a man. At sixteen, he was the image of his father: tall and strong and handsome. He was endowed with an air of self-confidence few boys his age possessed, and it made him seem far older than his years. He wore his straight black hair long, as befitted a warrior, and though he usually wore blue jeans and a cotton shirt, no one ever mistook him for anything but an Indian. His heritage was clearly stamped on his features and in his attitude toward life and I could not help but wonder if his Cheyenne blood had somehow swallowed up the white.

  Blackie was nine. He seemed to have inherited the best of both worlds. His skin was a golden brown, his hair was black, his eyes were dark. He was a lively, happy boy who made friends wherever he went. He rarely lost his temper, and had a warm and tender heart that could not stand to see suffering of any kind. He brought home countless stray animals that were hurt or sick or lost and nursed them back to health. Most of the coons and birds and squirrels eventually went back to the wild after they recovered, but a few of his orphans hung around our place and you never knew what would turn up in his room next.

  Pensive, I stared into the slowly moving river. Shadow had never treated Blackie any differently from Hawk or Mary, and yet sometimes I caught him staring at the boy and I knew he was wondering if Blackie was truly his son, or if he had been fathered by Joshua Berdeen. In my heart, I was certain Blackie belonged to Shadow, and yet I knew the answer would always remain a mystery.

  "You seem far away," Shadow remarked, reaching for my hand. "Is anything wrong?"

  "No." I turned to smile at him. "I was just thinking about our children and wondering what it will be like when they're all married and gone. It made made me a little sad."

  "You cannot keep them from growing up any more than you can stop the days from passing," Shadow said matter-of-factly. "Nothing lives long but the earth and the mountains."

  "And my love for you," I said, scooting over to lean against him.

  Shadow smiled down at me as his arms went around my waist, the love in his fathomless black eyes making my pulse beat faster and my blood run hot and sweet, like melted honey. How I loved him!

  Rising, Shadow lifted me into his arms and carried me into a shady glen. It was a lovely place for a rendezvous. A leafy green umbrella blocked the sun, pine needles layered the ground like a soft carpet, ferns and wildflowers grew in profusion, creating a miniature garden of Eden in the heart of the wilderness.

  Gently, Shadow lowered me to the ground, his black eyes aglow as he knelt beside me and began to unfasten the bodice of my dress. His hands trembled slightly as reached for the narrow blue ribbon that laced my chemise. His hands moved lazily over my bared flesh as he removed my clothing, the touch of his fingers thrilling me down to my toes.

  He stood with fluid grace and I watched through heavy-lidded eyes as he stepped out of his buckskin pants, clout, shirt and moccasins to stand naked before me. The sight of him quickened my desire. Age had not marred his perfect form. He was still tall and lean, his copper-hued flesh firm and sleek. He had many scars and I touched each one as he knelt beside me.

  The scars on his broad chest were souvenirs of the two Sun Dance rituals he had participated in. The marks on his back were from a severe beating he had received while a prisoner of Stewart and McCall back east. The long scar on his right leg had been inflicted by angry homesteaders in Bear Valley in the spring of 1875. There was a small scar on his upper left arm and another low on his left side, both caused by bullets when he had fled the reservation the day I had been injured by Joe Mattlock. So many scars, I mused, and each one like a badge of his love and courage.

  I shuddered w
ith pleasure as Shadow lowered his long body over mine. I loved the feel and the scent of him, loved the touch of his hands moving lovingly, intimately, over my flesh and through my hair, loved the deep throaty sound of his voice as he whispered, "Ne-mehotatse, Hannah. I love you."

  "Ne-mehotatse," I replied, my voice barely audible as I buried my face in the hollow of his shoulder, my hips arching up to meet him as he thrust into me, possessing me, completing me, making me whole at last. I surged upward, my hands cupping his buttocks, pulling him closer, closer, knowing I could never get enough of him.

  And then we were one flesh, our hearts and souls soaring upward, ever upward, reaching for the stars.

  XXV

  Hawk:

  Fall 1896

  He paced up and down beside the river crossing, wondering if she would come. They had been meeting secretly a couple times a week for over two years, their affection for one another growing steadily stronger, deeper, more compelling. In private, they kissed and caressed, always careful not to go too far. In public, they were only friends. They danced together at socials, went riding together, sought each other out at parties, always careful to keep things light and above suspicion. Victoria saw other young men; Hawk occasionally courted other girls, but he did not like the worried looks parents cast in his direction when he came to call on their daughters and he rarely saw the same girl twice.

  He glanced over his shoulder, impatient with the need to be alone with her, and suddenly she was there, her long auburn hair curling around her lovely, heart-shaped face, her sky blue eyes shining eagerly as she jumped from her horse and ran toward him.