Badlands Bride

by Cheryl St. John

  He emitted a sharp note. Hallie jumped. The sound turned into a nasal monotone song. She emitted a little laugh and relaxed.

  A beat began, and she searched out the man with the drum sitting on the other side of the fire.

  She flashed a look at Cooper, and he made the sign for sit. She did so. He lowered himself beside her, Yellow Eagle eagerly squeezing in between her and Runs Again.

  Runs Again gathered up a few dried sprigs and rubbed them between his bony hands. The sharp smell of sage met Hallie's nostrils. He took a long, dismantled pipe from a bag, spit on the stem and put it together. Still singing his eerie incantation, he reached into the bag for a pinch of leaves and swirled them in the bowl.

  He uttered a rapid prayer, as if he'd done it hundreds of times and the words were a recital. Each phrase started on an abnormally high pitch, his voice cascading down and ending with the same indistinguishable words.

  He quieted all at once. The drums stopped.

  A baby whined and a soft woman's voice shushed. Sec­onds later the baby quieted, the cry replaced by loud sucking sounds. Hallie wouldn't look.

  Runs Again spoke to her.

  "The stone," Cooper whispered.

  Delving into her deep skirt pocket, she withdrew the smooth rock and handed it to the Yuwipi man.

  His eyes widened at first glance. He examined it closely, his tongue coming out and flicking the surface a few times. He reached for her hand and Hallie suppressed a cry of surprise.

  Turning her palm up, the old man placed the stone in her hand and studied it. He turned it over once, curled her fin­gers around it and opened them back up. Hallie sat perfectly still while he held it to her forehead and looked into her eyes.

  He turned, and something unspoken passed between him and Cooper. Hallie looked from one man to the other, mys­tified by their actions. Apparently satisfied, Runs Again placed the stone on a bed of sage, lit the pipe and passed it to her. Yellow Eagle watched the process with wistful black eyes.

  Hesitantly, Hallie accepted the pipe. "What do I do?" she asked Cooper out the side of her mouth.

  "Puff once or twice," he replied softly. "Don't inhale."

  She turned the long stem and did as he instructed. Hot, acrid smoke bit her tongue and she breathed in, snorting in spite of herself. Cooper took the pipe from her hands and she tried not to cough. Beside her, he puffed solemnly and passed it to the man on his other side.

  The drums rumbled and Runs Again repeated the doleful song. A shiver ran up Hallie's spine. The pipe came around again and she managed not to choke. A dizzy sensation filled her head. By the time the pipe returned to Runs Again, he had finished the prayer. He tapped the remaining tobacco from the bowl onto the pile of sage and blew on the embers until they ignited. The fire burned out quickly; Runs Again smothered the fire in the center of the tepee by tossing dirt on it.

  Hallie trembled in the total darkness and unfamiliar sur­roundings. Her head buzzed. She scooted closer to Cooper until their arms and thighs touched.

  The baby sucked.

  Someone coughed.

  "What's going on?" Hallie whispered, leaning sideways and bumping her nose into Cooper's jaw.

  "The spirits are placing the stone in the pouch," he re­plied. "You'll get it back at the end."

  They sat for several more minutes, sounds of the other occupants loud in the darkness. Finally a spark ignited and Runs Again instructed the men to build the fire.

  "Now an offering," Cooper whispered.

  She relaxed and observed the myriad faces in the flick­ering orange light, each absorbed with the ceremony, and experienced the sensation of going back hundreds of years in time. These faces could have been the faces of men and women who lived long ago. The traditions and beliefs had been passed down from generation to generation. Their lives had not changed until the whites intruded.

  Runs Again placed a fist-size roll of what looked like weeds in the fire. A strong tobaccolike odor permeated the interior of the tepee. The drum beat again. Hallie slanted a glance at Cooper. In the eerie light he didn't seem any dif­ferent from the others seated around the fire. This enlight­ening glimpse into his spirituality showed her that the inner man went much deeper than she'd understood.

  Everyone needed someone or something higher and more powerful than themselves to believe in. These people were faithful to and respectful of the gods they knew. Who had a right to label them heathens?

  Runs Again finished singing and sat back.

  The men and women rose and left, talking among them­selves. Runs Again handed Hallie a small leather pouch on a thong and she understood, at last, the importance of the stone.

  "Thank you," she said, rising unsteadily.

  Beside her Yellow Eagle beamed.

  Cooper exchanged a few words with the Yuwipi man, then turned and escorted Hallie from the tent. In the fresh air her clothes and hair reeked of smoke and tobacco. "Do you suppose I can take a bath and wash my hair when we get home?"

  "Tomorrow," he replied.

  She stopped.

  "We can't travel in the dark. We'll head out at first light."

  That made sense. "Where will I sleep?"

  "In my father's lodge." He said something to Chumani, then turned back to Hallie. "Chumani will show you where to…attend to…whatever you need to attend to."

  He pushed aside the flap and entered his father's tent. When the women returned, he had furs and blankets rolled out. Chumani lay beside her son and pointed for Hallie to sleep nearby.

  Surreptitiously, she stole a glance at the tent's other oc­cupants. Running Elk and his wife nestled together in a heap of animal skins. Sitting on another pallet, Cooper removed his boots. They would all be sleeping here together?

  Self-consciously, she lowered herself onto the soft furs, removed her boots and stretched out. Yellow Eagle reached across and adjusted the blanket up over her shoulder. "Now you can pray to the spirits, Hallie," he said.

  Had the spirit stone been Yellow Eagle's olive branch? Perhaps he really had come to appreciate her instruction. Reading and writing was something anyone with an ele­mentary education could have taught him. Simply some twist of fate had made her the one.

  She touched the stone lying heavily against her chest. "Thank you for the gift, Yellow Eagle."

  He lay back down.

  Hallie's gaze drifted. Several feet from her, but close enough to make out his blue eyes through the wavering heat across the fire, Cooper watched her. A slow, steady thrum started in her heart and worked its way down to her belly. A riveting cadence like that of the drums pounded in her veins. Beneath her fingers the stone had a warmth and a life all its own.

  Weariness washed over her and her eyes drifted shut. Sometime later she awoke. She imagined that the stone, which had slid to her shoulder, pulsed with a comforting warmth. The fire had dwindled to a glowing pile of embers. Across it, their gazes locked. He turned both his palms up­ward near his face, one higher than the other.

  What was he doing? Almost instantly she recognized the sign for sleep. Hallie closed her eyes and obeyed.

  The sky had barely turned light when the smell of cook­ing woke her. She pulled on her boots, noting that the others were gone. All but Miya. She knelt behind Hallie and pa­tiently worked a comb through her hair.

  Hallie sat still beneath the attention and, rather than of­fend her, didn't object when the woman plaited her tresses into two long braids and secured them with beaded strips of leather. Miya brought a tightly woven basket and placed it in Hallie's hands.

  "What would you like me to do?" Hallie asked. "Get something for you?"

  Miya brought one palm up in a sign Hallie didn't rec­ognize. She repeated it and added a sign with two fingers up.

  "Friend," Hallie said.

  Miya signed again and included both hands cupped be­hind her ears.

  Hallie murmured, "Bear."

  She waited in uncertainty until the others showed up to eat. Noticing her hair, Cooper raised
his brows, but she didn't give him a chance to comment. "Cooper, please tell me what Miya said about this basket."

  He listened and obliged. "It's a gift in return for the bear meat."

  Hallie gave Miya a warm smile and lowered both flat­tened hands to say thank-you. After they ate, Cooper and his father bid one another a solemn farewell.

  Hallie waved goodbye and left the tent with Chumani and Yellow Eagle. Several Indians intercepted them on their way to the wagon, pressing headbands, beads, wooden bowls and utensils carved from bone into Hallie's arms.

  Behind them Cooper, too, was showered with gifts. The items filled several of the empty crates in the back of the wagon. Yellow Eagle and Chumani wished their friends and family goodbye.

  Seated in the wagon bed, her coat snugly wrapped around her, Hallie waved. The unforgettable faces of the men and women who returned the gesture ranged from young to old and she remembered their faces around the fire the night before. Leaving them brought a sinking sensation to her stomach. They were a proud and spiritual people. No longer were they allowed to live where they pleased or able to hunt and trap as they had for centuries. Their lives had been vindictively changed forever by men who believed they had the duty to civilize the West regardless of the circumstances.

  More clearly than ever, she understood Cooper's dedi­cation to them, and his wariness toward whites. She under­stood Yellow Eagle's initial distrust…and maybe…maybe she even understood Last Horse's hatred. He knew his way of life was doomed, but unlike Cooper, who had the means to do something about it, Last Horse still fought.

  Hallie's blurred gaze turned from the Oglala to Yellow Eagle on the seat above her and then to his mother. Chumani waved to her people, who grew smaller in the distance. Turning back, her black eyes sized up Hallie's hair. She reached into one of the crates and pulled out a headband. Holding it between both hands, she gestured.

  Hallie's attention slid from the beaded band to the silver bracelet on Chumani's wrist. The delicate filigree, out of place with leather and quills, caught the morning sunlight. Without thought, Hallie reached for her hand and turned it over for a better look.

  A flat signet bore engraved initials. A small slanted H and a C with a large curly W between. Hallie's heart thrust against her breast.

  Her initials. Her bracelet.

  Chapter Thirteen

  "Where did you get this?"

  Chumani's black eyes widened. She said something and tried to pull away.

  "Where did you get this?" Hallie insisted.

  Pulling her wrist free, Chumani shook her head.

  "Something wrong?" Cooper asked over his shoulder.

  Confusion governed Hallie's thinking. "No."

  He turned back.

  Chumani gave Hallie a wary look and settled onto the furs piled beneath them. Hallie worked at making sense of the situation. Chumani had in her possession the silver bracelet that had been stolen from Hallie during the stage holdup. There could be any number of reasons she'd ended up with it. Whoever had stolen it could have traded it at a post somewhere or even bartered directly with an Indian. Someone at the reservation had ended up with the piece of jewelry and given it to Chumani. Cynically Hallie wondered how much it had been worth for trade.

  Where were her other things? Who had spent her money? She mulled over the questions on the way home. Everyone grew tired, but there were chores to tend to once they ar­rived. By supper there wasn't much conversation.

  Hallie ran Yellow Eagle and Cooper through their per­functory lessons and afterward took herself off to bed still contemplating the bracelet.

  In the morning a fine layer of dusty snow covered the earth. The wind picked up and it snowed for days.

  A week later the wind still howled at the door. "Will we be snowed in?" she asked one evening.

  "It doesn't pile up much," Cooper explained. "Except right against the buildings. The blowing is what's bad. It's not safe to go out when it's snowing because you can't see where you're going or find any landmarks."

  Yellow Eagle piped up from his place before the fire. "That's why we gotta have that rope to the privy and the soddy and the other buildings."

  The windows had been shuttered, but even so, the fine blend of snow and dust blew between the cracks. Hallie swept it up once or twice a day.

  "The evenings seem so long," she said, thinking out loud.

  Aware of her restlessness, Cooper studied her profile. She'd behaved strangely for the past week or so—ever since she'd received her sicun. Had the naming ceremony both­ered her? Did she think him more of a savage than ever?

  He would have to find things for her to do—chores more stimulating than sweeping the floor. What could possibly entertain her for the winter? "What does your family do on winter evenings?" he asked.

  Her unusual eyes showed her surprise at his question. "My father works," she replied. "Sometimes he and my brothers attend business functions. Occasionally he takes my mother to something that requires her presence, and they entertain often."

  "What about you?"

  "I write. Once in a while I go out."

  "With men?"

  "Sometimes."

  He avoided her eyes, hating himself for the thread of jealousy that wove itself into his soul. "But they don't in­terest you."

  "Only as friends," she agreed.

  A loud knock startled them. Cooper picked up his rifle and answered the door. "Kincaid!"

  Grainy snow gusted in with Wiley's arrival, and Cooper put his rifle away. Hallie hung Wiley's coat on the back of a chair before the fire and laid his gloves on the hearth. "Take off your boots before you catch cold," she insisted. "Our maid used to dry ours out on the oven rack."

  Wiley struggled out of his boots, and Hallie carried them away. Chumani brought the man a cup of coffee and ges­tured for him to sit near the fire. He signed his thanks.

  Cooper could tell Hallie was more nervous around Kin­caid than he was around her. He spoke comfortably with Cooper and ate cinnamon-and-sugar twists of pastry crust that the women had baked that afternoon.

  Chumani refilled his cup and he smiled at her. That smile caught Cooper off guard. He regarded Chumani's reaction, noting her dark skin held a noticeable flush. Hallie, too, glanced between the two of them, and her dark winged brows elevated to the middle of her forehead. She seated herself by Yellow Eagle, but her attention wasn't on the book he read aloud.

  Listening to the conversation, she occasionally peeped up at Wiley or Chumani. A scorching smell wafted to Cooper. He sniffed the air and sized up the area surrounding the fireplace, seeing nothing amiss. "Something burning?"

  "Oh, my, no!" Hallie shot up as if she'd been jerked with an invisible string and ran to the other end of the room. The others stood and followed. Grabbing a length of folded burlap, she pulled a skillet from the oven.

  Black curls of smoke rose from Wiley's shriveled boots. Hallie's mortified expression turned from the smoking foot­wear to the others' faces.

  "I'm so sorry," she said in a tight voice, placing the skillet on the stove and staring at the ruined boots.

  Cooper exchanged a look with Kincaid. The side of the man's mouth twitched, dislodging Cooper's restraint. The hilarity of the situation bubbled up inside and a laugh burst forth.

  "Are you making fun of me, DeWitt?" she snapped. "If you are, you can go straight to hell!"

  At her unladylike language, Cooper guffawed. Kincaid joined him, followed by Yellow Eagle. Chumani covered her mouth with both hands and giggled. Red faced, Hallie gaped at them.

  They laughed until tears ran down their cheeks. Hallie's expression softened and seconds later a chuckle tumbled out. Finally she was laughing as hard as they were, a hand pressed to her midriff.

  "I have some boots you can wear home," Cooper offered once their laughter died down.

  Hallie opened the door and tossed the reeking leather out into the cold. "I'll buy you a new pair," she said, meeting Cooper's eyes. "I have the pay I've earned at the f
reight company. I don't know how long they'll take to get here, though."

  "Don't worry about it," Wiley said. "They were old."

  "Well, even so, I feel responsible."

  Wiley dismissed her worry with a wave of his hand. Hal­lie took her place beside Yellow Eagle and he finished his book.

  When Wiley prepared to leave, Cooper brought him a pair of fur-lined boots. Wiley bundled up and took his leave. Chumani and Yellow Eagle left shortly after.

  "I'll get wood for the night," Cooper said. He returned with a sling full of logs, placed one on the fire and carried the rest into the other room.

  Hallie had efficiently started a fire, and sat on her heels before it. Cooper crouched next to her and watched the fire take hold before adding one of the logs. He turned and stud­ied her expression, the light playing over her delicate fea­tures. "Are you lonely?"

  She appeared to think a minute. "No. Not at all."

  "Missing your family?"

  She tilted her head. "A little. More than they're missing me, I'm sure."

  Though they spent numerous hours with one another, be­ing in this room where she slept somehow made being alone together more intimate. Her hair looked softer, more invit­ing, her skin radiated the warm glow of the fire. "I know you're bored," he said.

  She sat back and hugged her knees beneath her skirt. "Maybe just a little."

  The wind buffeted the shutters and created a gust of sparks in the chimney. Cooper glanced at the wide stone hearth he'd built to insure against such a gust causing a fire.

  Hallie looked around, too, spotting something behind her and turning quickly forward again. Cooper recognized her bearskin beneath the bed. "You're not using it?" he asked.

  "For what?"

  "For a rug. Or a blanket?"

  She moved her head in a tight little negative shake.

  "Why not?"

  "Well, I—uh, frankly, it makes me nervous."

  "Nervous?"

  She nodded.

  "How?"

  "Those teeth and—oh, I don't know. Why did Wiley leave the head and paws on it? Ugh! I couldn't look at it every time I walk in here." She shuddered.

  Cooper couldn't help grinning. "That's the way it's done."