Walks the Fire

by Stephanie Grace Whitson

  Jesse could find no words to bridge the darkness between them. He had seen her unhappiness and wrongly blamed himself. She had sensed his distancing himself from her and had wrongly guessed her childlessness to be the cause. Words failed, but she found a way to bridge the darkness. He had turned to go, but she was there, wrapping her arms about him and laying her head on his shoulder, her own body shaking with the effort to hold back her tears.

  His arms held her, but there was little warmth in them until she managed the words to tell him how the absence of children plagued her… how she had failed him… how useless she felt. The broken words poured out and the chasm was crossed. Loving arms enfolded her. His head bowed low as he placed his own wind-hardened cheek next to hers and waited for her to spill out the cause of her sadness.

  As she shared her grief, Rides the Wind’s heart was made glad. He interrupted the torrent of words. “This is nothing, Walks the Fire. My anger came when you would not speak of your sadness. I thought you longed for the whites, that you cared nothing for us, that you feared telling me. To have many sons would be a wonderful thing. I cannot lie about that. But if having many sons means I must take another woman, then I would choose no sons and keep Walks the Fire in my tepee. Your heart cries out for children… my heart cries out only for you, best-beloved.”

  The vastness of the prairie and the wide expanse of sky had been reminders of her emptiness, but she was no longer empty. God had filled the emptiness with his love poured out through Rides the Wind. In the days that followed God began to heal the wound. Jesse still prayed for a child, but the desperation was gone. She began to find fulfillment in Two Mothers, in her friends, in her husband. Something approaching contentment grew within, and the smile that Rides the Wind had longed to see returned to the face of Walks the Fire.

  Fifteen

  Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall: But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.—Isaiah 40:30-31

  When Two Mothers turned eight, Rides the Wind presented him with an elk horn bow. The boy had watched his father fashion it with glowing eyes, not daring to presume that he would merit such a fine bow. The horn was boiled until soft and then split into shape, the pieces joined together at notches. Wet sinew was wound about the joint of the bow. It contained a natural glue, and when it dried, it glued itself in place. Joined in this way, the joint was stronger even than if the nails used by the whites held the pieces together. When Rides the Wind had finished the bow, he strung it with a fresh buffalo sinew and presented it to his son without ceremony.

  Two Mothers was barely able to contain his excitement. He stammered his thanks and prepared to rush outside to show the gift to his friends. But Rides the Wind stopped him. “There will be time to boast when you bring home your first deer… let us make new arrows before we hunt. Let us see how you have grown since the last moon.”

  Rides the Wind measured his son’s arm. The distance from the elbow joint to the tip of the middle finger and then back to the wrist would be the length of Two Mothers’ arrows. Together they searched for suitable feathers, fastening them to the arrows with sinew. Two Mothers looked longingly at the turkey feathers that adorned his father’s arrows, but turkey feathers were scarce. He would have to be content with the offerings from the duck and the prairie chicken.

  Early the morning after the new bow and arrows were finished, Rides the Wind announced, “My son and I are ready to try out the new bow.” With great ceremony they prepared for their hunting trip, for with the presentation of the bow, Rides the Wind had announced that he would begin training his son in earnest, sharing his secrets so that the tribe could gain another fine hunter.

  “God has given each animal a manner of living, my son. You must learn to watch these ways and to respect them. By watching the animals, you will learn much that will help you in the hunt.” They stopped along a familiar trail, and Rides the Wind pointed to deer tracks. “Is this a recent track or an old one? Was the deer running or walking? If the deer was running, then we must look for other tracks. Perhaps there is an enemy nearby who is hunting. These are all things we must know to be good hunters.”

  A familiar cry caused them to look up from the tracks. Soaring high above were a pair of eagles. Father and son watched for many minutes before Two Mothers ventured, “My father, you have your eagle feathers… could I not make preparation and hunt for mine?”

  Rides the Wind pondered the request before replying, “The taking of an eagle is a serious and dangerous thing, my son. Three men were required when I captured the eagle. Today there are only two.” He was careful not to call Two Mothers a child.

  The son gazed longingly up at the soaring birds. He bargained for time. “Perhaps we could follow these two. You could teach me the way of the eagle. Then, when my time has come, I will be ready.”

  It was a reasonable argument, and Rides the Wind nodded his assent. “By the way they circle, I would say that they have a nest, and they are trying to get the young one to fly with them. I have seen the mother sometimes push her young one out of the nest and over the edge of the cliff to make it fly. Sometimes, the young does not know how, and it flaps its wings, but it falls toward the earth. The mother bird flies beneath her child and catches it and takes it on her back to the nest, to safety.”

  Two Mothers listened, fascinated. “And then what happens, my father?”

  “Again, the young one is pushed off the cliff. This time it flies better, but if it still cannot fly away, the mother catches it again and again until it learns and flies back to the nest on its own.”

  “Perhaps we could find the eagles’ nest,” interjected the boy. “Just to see if the young ones are fully feathered.” His heart yearned to return from his first hunt with the most prized of all prey.

  Rides the Wind smiled patiently. “Never among our tribe has a boy of your age succeeded in bringing home eagle feathers from his first hunt.” At the downcast expression on his son’s face, Rides the Wind was urged to speak some comfort. “But perhaps God has saved his best eagle for Two Mothers and Rides the Wind.”

  The downcast expression changed instantly, and the young boy nodded his head emphatically. He thrust out his chest and blurted out, “Yes, I will be the first… and the people will sing my praises.”

  Rides the Wind smiled and studied Wind’s mane as the pony stood motionless. Seeming intent upon arranging each hair of the mane until it flowed perfectly, he recited from the book, “There be three things which are too wonderful for me, yea, four which I know not…”

  “Do you remember what the first is my son?”

  Two Mothers answered, “The way of an eagle in the air.”

  “It is always good, my son, to remember that God is the one who decides the way of the eagle and the ways of men. Let us ask him to help us find your eagle… if he agrees. We should never boast of what we can do, for he may not agree, and then we will seem to be fools.”

  Two Mothers’ shoulders slumped a bit and he blushed. “I only meant…”

  “You meant that your heart is bursting with the desire to hunt these eagles. I understand. There is no wrong in the desire.” Rides the Wind picked up the reins to his pony and urged him forward as he finished the thought. “Just remember that we must always make our desires one with those of the heavenly Father.”

  The two climbed steadily, their ponies scrambling over rocks, their eyes ever watchful of the eagles. Finally, after what seemed like hours, they reached the top of the cliff where Rides the Wind dismounted and advanced to the edge, peering over. He motioned for Two Mothers to follow.

  Perhaps twenty feet below them was the eagles’ nest. In it, side by side, sat two fully feathered eaglets. The temptation was too much. It took only a few moments for him to decide what must be done.

  “We will kill a deer and return here. We can cut the hide into strips
to make a rope. I will lower you to the ledge, and you will capture one of the eaglets.”

  “But, Father, the lodge, the sacrifice to the Great Mystery.”

  “All my life, I have served the Great Mystery, my son. Long ago, when my leg was broken and wrapped by the man of God, I learned that the Great Mystery had a name and that he cared for all people; that he came to this earth to show his caring. Since Walks the Fire has come to our tepee, we have heard the words of God. He does not require sacrifice before he gives to his children, and he will be pleased if we thank him for his help when you have gained your prize. We will pray for his help. I do not think that the ceremony is important.”

  Two Mothers accepted the answer in respectful silence. Still, his mind was filled with doubt. It did not seem wise to so quickly change the ways of the people.

  It was not long before they spotted the tracks of an elk, and Rides the Wind returned to the role of teacher as he and Two Mothers tracked their prey. Clouds had begun to gather in the western sky, and it was late afternoon before they succeeded in bringing down the huge buck. They worked quickly to skin the animal and pile the meat onto Two Mothers’ pony. Rides the Wind plucked two teeth from the elk’s mouth and tucked them into the pouch at his side. He had been saving elk’s teeth for months, and these two would furnish exactly the number needed.

  The wind blew harder as they headed back to the edge of the cliff, and black clouds scudded across the sky. The two eagles were no longer in sight, but as Rides the Wind and Two Mothers peered over the edge of the cliff, they saw that the eaglets had huddled down into the nest in preparation for the storm. As they watched, one grown eagle soared over their heads and lighted on the edge of the nest. Spreading her wings over her young, the female settled onto the nest and awaited the storm.

  Two Mothers’ heart sank. With the storm coming, they would have little time to capture their prey. Rides the Wind, however, had become determined to have his son succeed. Quickly he slashed the elk’s hide into thin strips, tying them together to form a rope just long enough to reach the ledge below.

  “You must move very slowly. Speak to the eagles as a friend. Tell them what you are doing. Do not thrash about and frighten them. If you do this right, they will watch you and allow you to join them on the ledge. Then you must sit down—slowly—and wait. They will watch you carefully. Still, you must wait. If you make no move toward the young ones, she will settle down. The storm will come, and still, you must wait. I do not think it will last long. When it has passed, they will go to hunt, or they will push one of the eaglets out of the nest and begin to teach it to fly. Either way, you will have your chance to capture one of them. Reach slowly, like this.”

  Rides the Wind demonstrated his own movements from years ago, grasping an imaginary leg just above the claw, then tightening his hold on the leg and sliding the hand slowly up the feather-line on the thigh. “He will not struggle. But then, you must bring your other hand up and break his neck. When you have done this, climb slowly back up to me. If the old ones return, I will throw stones to keep them away while you escape.”

  It sounded simple, but as they talked, the storm moved closer. Thunder rolled on the clouds and lightning flashed. No moisture had poured from the clouds. “Perhaps it will go over us,” Rides the Wind muttered hopefully. “If not, you will have to wait through the storm down there on the ledge. Are you certain you wish to do this today, my son?”

  Two Mothers bristled at the idea that he might not be brave enough to earn his eagle feathers. His answer was unspoken as he tossed the elk-skin rope over the edge of the cliff and prepared to slide down it. Rides the Wind nodded his approval but stopped the boy with a reminder. “This is a dangerous thing that you are doing, my son. You are brave, and that is good. But do not be foolish. In a few years this can be done, when you are stronger, and when there is no storm. No one needs to know that we even thought of this today.”

  Two Mothers’ dark eyes flashed as he took up the challenge. “Everyone will know, my father, for we are riding back to the village with our ponies adorned with eagle feathers!”

  With that, he pushed himself over the edge of the cliff and started his descent. Rides the Wind had been correct about the behavior of the eagles. They lowered their heads and watched carefully, but showed no signs of alarm. Two Mothers moved slowly and deliberately—until the fresh elk-skin rope broke and he landed with a thump at the side of the nest

  Rides the Wind watched, his heart pounding. The storm was approaching quickly, and the eagles lashed out to protect their young from the intruder. Fierce talons ripped at the young flesh, powerful wings beat the air and the beaks began to work furiously as the two grown eagles tore at Two Mothers in fury.

  Rides the Wind acted immediately. Lowering himself as far as he could on the remaining portion of the rope, he dropped to the ledge beside his son. Two Mothers had done his best to fight, but two enraged adult eagles were too much. Deep gashes bled freely along his back. One talon had ripped into his left cheek.

  Rides the Wind stood over his crouching son. The storm broke, pouring rain and blowing fierce gusts against the side of the hill. Lightning illuminated the side of the cliff, but Rides the Wind noticed nothing as he slashed at the eagles with all his might. One blow plunged his knife into the breast of the male bird, but the female seemed to be everywhere at once, slashing and beating, impervious to the weather. The eaglets joined in, but were thankfully less skillful in their own defense.

  The female ended the battle. One great talon found the neck of the fierce warrior. Held in her grasp, Rides the Wind saw her breast stained with his own blood and knew that he was gravely wounded. He grabbed one of her legs with his left hand, trying to free himself with his knife.

  The cloudburst passed, and Rides the Wind staggered back, no longer able to protect his son. The flow of his own blood was telling, and he realized that he was losing the battle. Just as he began to lose consciousness, he was aware of a loud cry—was it his own?—and then the terrible pain at his neck seemed to stop. He reached again for where the eagle’s talons had been holding him but felt only air. As he fell to his knees he realized that Two Mothers had dealt the death blow and was now battling the eaglets. At his feet lay the bodies of the adult birds. It was a valiant fight, but Rides the Wind realized as he fell against the cliff wall that it was useless. Too much blood had been spilled.

  The sky was suddenly a brilliant blue. The storm had left a great rainbow in its wake. It arched from one end of the prairie below to the other, and all things sparkled. Back in camp, Jesse looked up at the rainbow and smiled, wondering where her two men had sat out the storm. She stirred up the fire and began the ritual of preparing for the evening meal, wondering if they would return that night, hoping that on his first hunt, Two Mothers would not be disappointed. Please, Father, if it pleases you, let him return home with meat for the family. It would make him so happy.

  But at the moment Walks the Fire was praying for her son, he was in the fight of his young life. The eaglets turned on him with all their fury, and as they beat upon him with their wings, Two Mothers realized that they must be very near the day of leaving the nest. One glance behind him told him that he was in a desperate situation. Above him, too far away to be of any help, were Wind and Stormy Day, the latter loaded with meat. They had been tethered to a tree. They would undoubtedly break loose and return to the village, but not before it was too late for Rides the Wind. The dark stain on the ground was growing with every passing moment.

  Two Mothers did a foolish thing. It should have plunged him to his death. Miraculously, it did not. If you are truly there, God of my mother… if you are truly the maker of all things… then help me, now. My father lays dying. Help me down from this place or let me die now!

  Somehow, he managed to grasp the legs of each frenzied bird and totter to the edge of the cliff. As they went over the edge, Two Mothers cried aloud, “God of my mother, help me!” His heart seemed to stop beating. Squeezing his
eyes shut, he held his breath and waited to plunge to his death. A great gust of wind rushed up from the earth. The young eagles spread their wings and beat the air in an attempt to escape. Down, down, they spiraled, beating their wings and screeching at the thing that held them to let go. He would not. Down, down, they went, into a deep pool of water formed by a spring at the base of the cliff. The birds had not borne him up, as did the eagles in the legend he had heard so many times, but they had broken his fall.

  As he sank below the surface of the water, Two Mothers felt the muscles in the legs of the two birds go limp. He let go, and came up, gasping for breath. The two drowned birds floated on the surface of the water. Two Mothers swam to the edge and dragged himself into the grass, panting. He looked down, unbelievingly, at the deep gashes on his arms. When he touched his cheek, his fingers were covered with blood.

  But Two Mothers had no thought for himself, now. He must get help for his father, and quickly. The dark stain in the earth about his father’s unconscious body… was it still growing?

  Two Mothers staggered to his feet and began the run of his life. How far did we come? He knew the direction to run, but had no idea how far they had come as they watched the eagles earlier in the day. Climbing the cliff again to reach the ponies was out of the question. I am swift. God of my mother, came the plea, make me swifter.