The talk between the men would not include the seventeen-wintersold War Eagle; he was present only to listen and learn. The younger man knew and accepted the fact that his older brother was the one being reared and trained to become their next leader. Their family had a tight bond and were fiercely loyal to each other, their kin, their band, and their nation. As was their custom, the children and relatives of a chief were the band's most important members, and leadership) ourneyed through his bloodline, passing from father to the oldest son unless there was a reason to ignore that practice. War Eagle was certain his beloved brother would never do anything to dishonor himself, his family, and his people. He was proud of Wind Dancer, and no jealousy or envy lived in his body against him; to become their next chief was Wind Dancer's birthright, destiny, and duty. True to his name, Waci Tate "danced with the wind" as he lived and rode in pride and freedom, heeded to the "four virtues," honored the land and animals and Great Spirit, challenged the powers and perils of the enemy, and soared upon Father Sky's currents as a man above other men.
"Speak, Wise One," Rising Bear said, "tell us what Wakantanka revealed to you in your vision."
Nahemana nodded and began his enlightenment. "In the directions from which the sun rises and the winter winds are born, I saw our enemies gathering as storm clouds to attack and destroy us, to claim our hunting grounds as their own. The Great Spirit was angry. He sent the Thunderbird to flap its great wings to scare them away, but they did not hear its message. He sent fiery lances into their presence, but they did not see His message. He sent Spirit Warriors to challenge them; they did not flee; they only retreated to grow stronger to try again. The Great Spirit sent a powerful wind war-dancing across the sky; it swooped down and gathered dewdrops from the face of Mother Earth and returned to the sky. Together they challenged our enemies and frightened them away. A glorious rainbow appeared. The sun blazed in joy. Victory was ours. That powerful force and duty lies in the hands of he who dances with the wind, your oldest son and our next chief. He must get Dewdrops, live and ride with her, and let her heal his heart; only then will the Red Shields know peace."
Respectful children and wives remained silent as Rising Bear asked questions that came quickly to his mind: "We have not heard of such magic and big medicine. Those who lived before us did not pass along such words to us, and that story is not painted upon our tribal buffalo hide. Where will my son find the sacred Dewdrops, Wise One?"
"In the camp of the Brule White Shields," Nahemana answered. "She must become his mate. That union will make him even stronger, wiser, and more generous."
The baffled chief glanced at his oldest son before asking Nahemana, "Dewdrops is a woman? He must take a Brule as his wife?"
"I know the names of the children of most Lakota chiefs; Tall Elk's are Fire Walker and Dewdrops. Wakantanka showed us many things separately, and together they tell us what must be done. We must ride to Tall Elk's camp and ask for an alliance, and for his daughter to bond it to ours.
"Why the White Shield Band, Wise One?" Rising Bear asked. "We have never allied with them in the past?"
"The Brules are members of the Seven Council Fires of the Lakotas. Though the seven major tribes are divided into many bands and all live and ride separately, we meet for seasonal trading fairs and unite for big wars. But in the past when we allied with other bands from the Oglalas or other tribes, we did not ride and work as one war party. Each side wished to show superiority and to gather the most coups and prizes; it cannot be so in our next conflicts with the Crow and Whites." Nahemana breathed deeply before continuing. "I see and speak with many chiefs and their warriors when we meet to talk or trade; it does not appear the White Shield Brules think and ride as our past allies did. But there is another reason: In his vision, Wind Dancer was told to make a new shield to carry in the challenges before him; it was painted white. Upon its surface he saw a yellow dewdrop and a large bird."
"The eagle, the ruler of the sky?" Rising Bear ventured.
"No, the hawk, a new spirit helper for his tasks ahead."
"What are those tasks, Wise One?"
"I do not know, for they have not been revealed to us. First, my grandson must take another mate, one who will become his companion in the challenges ahead. Wakantanka has chosen the daughter of Chief Tall Elk to join with him and ride with him. If we are to obey the Great Spirit's command and if we are to survive and become stronger, it must be so."
As he heard the interpretation of his and his grandfather's visions, Wind Dancer was troubled. What if this Dewdrops was unappealing, barren, dull-witted, or already taken? But surely she could not be any of those things or she would not have been chosen for him. But why did Wakantanka select his next wife? Why could he not pick the woman-one he desired and who had the skills to help him meet and defeat his challenges? A woman like Morning Mist, his near defiant heart whispered, if she were flesh and bone. Even if the Great Spirit's choice was a female warrior, how would a mere woman become his successful companion in the face of such danger ahead? What, he wondered, could only two people do to obtain glorious victory? But, Wakantanka had spoken in the visions, so they must be obeyed.
Wind Dancer sat alone on a flat top boulder of black rock. Items to be used for his task set nearby. Three suns had passed since his visionquest began and he saw Morning Mist for the second and final time, one sun since his grandfather had interpreted the visions to him and his family. It was time to prepare for his coming journey. First, he must make a new shield to carry with him and to use during his imminent challenge, one such as both he and his grandfather had seen during their spiritual quests.
As a sign of his virtue of generosity, he had given his old shield to a warrior who had lost his own during a conflict with the Crow. At the end of the last buffalo season, he had made a new hoop from a supple sapling-as that shape showed that all things traveled in an unending circle. From the sturdy hump section of six buffalos, he had tanned and stretched those hides over the frame, then put it away until the Great Spirit told him what symbols to place upon it. He would use paints obtained from rocks, dirt, plants, and animals which lived upon Mother Earth to show his eternal connection to and dependency upon Her. The yellow came from buffalo gallstones and from ocher, as did red and orange. Blue was from the wanhu and pokeberries. Other red came from vermilion; black, from charcoal; green, from grasses; and many more colors from clays and flowers. Sometimes the extracts and particles were mixed with water, and other times, with grease or oil from animals or plant stems. Usually those gathering and mixing chores were done by females; his, by his mother and sister Hanmani, whose name meant "To-walk-in-the-night."
As this was a reverent occasion, he had sought privacy away from his friends and people. He lifted his gaze skyward and prayed, "Sun, Moon, and All You Above Ones, listen and watch me as I work. This shield I am making, give it of your sacred power so it will keep its owner safe in his encounters with the enemy who is seeking to destroy Your People. Give its owner the skills and courage and wisdom to carry out the will of Wakantanka. Charge it with strong medicine. Bless it and the warrior who sits before You."
First, he painted the entire surface white, as if it were a cloud. Around its edges he painted black grizzly paws from which strength and courage were drawn, and black deer tracks to draw from the speed and agility of that animal, and red tracks of the buffalo upon which their survival depended. He attached a fox tail to the lower right side to inspire cunning and stealth. Four eagle feathers were added near the leather shoulder band, the ruler of the sky where the wind danced, one for each of the directions from which it blew. He secured a tiny bundle of red stones on the lower left to show his forever-ties to his ancestors. Another small bundle, which held blue flax and green sage to represent the earth and sky, was attached to the lower right side. He painted on a yellow lightning bolt and several blue hailstones across the lower half to gather their power and speed.
Wind Dancer rested for a short time before finishing with the t
wo sacred signs from the visions, symbols painted across the top half, one in yellow and one in brown. Two, his mind echoed, that number having a calming-yet stimulating-effect on him this time. He gazed at the completed, still wet shield and smiled. Yes, the Great Spirit would make his dreams come true and would show him how to defeat the threats against his people.
He returned to the camp and hung the shield upon his three-legged huyamni to dry. The wooden legs of the stand allowed the renewing power of the earth to travel into his possessions. It stood outside so his belongings could soak up the warmth and light of the sun, the shining power of the Great Mystery above. His gaze passed over his other weapons suspended there: his decorated bow, a beaded quiver filled with arrows and painted with his markings, a wrist guard, a war club, war lance, coup stick, and sheathed knife with an elk antler grip. His personal pipe rested in a beaded bag and his medicine bundle was suspended as well; from it dangled several grizzly claws and it contained special stones, bones, feathers, and good-luck charms.
In an elated mood, the oldest son of the Red Shield chief headed to tend his three horses before night blanketed the land. One was used only for carrying items, for riding during journeys, and for hunting. Another was a buffalo horse, which was agile, swift, and trained to race with the great dark beast while avoiding its sharp and lethal horns. The last was his war horse, upon which a warrior's survival and success depended, and Wind Dancer's favorite mount, who he had trained and ridden for eight spans of the seasons. That would be the animal he rode to face his coming challenges. When the next sun rose, he would paint his victory and medicine symbols upon its hide and journey with a chosen party to carry out the first step along his destiny trail.
Nahemana joined his grandson shortly after dawn on what he expected and prayed would be a momentous time in their lives. His gaze roamed the white-and-black horse with its numerous markings which exposed Wind Dancer's high rank and glorious exploits. The shaman's gaze drifted to the war shield in his grandson's grasp and read the meanings for its many colorful symbols, including two new ones: signs of his spirit helpers from the sacred vision.
"It is good, micinksi, "the old man said. "You will enter their camp as the great warrior and future chief you are. Are the joining and friendship gifts ready?"
"Yes, Grandfather; War Eagle and Red Feather will bring them to us. They will come soon; they gather supplies for our journey and task. Father is preparing himself to leave with us."
"Are you ready and willing to face the tasks before you, micinksi?"
"Yes, Grandfather." Wind Dancer prayed he would not fail in his duty, once it was revealed. He had vowed to do his best in those impending challenges, to sacrifice his life if necessary. And he had vowed to never again think of or crave another woman in his future wife's place. The symbols of his two new spirit helpers were painted upon his shield, and he hoped they gave him the strength and courage to do what he must, including forget Morning Mist, if she was real. He must not go chasing a foolish dream, a woman out of his reach.
"Do you think they will hear our vision words and believe them, Grandfather?" he asked. "Will they agree to our plan?"
"They must, micinksi, for they are the will and commands of Wakantanka. He will open their eyes, ears, hearts, and minds to the truth. Now it is time to go; your destiny awaits you and your chosen one."
Wind Dancer saw his father, brother, and best friend heading toward them with five choice horses trailing behind them and with many gifts secured atop their backs. He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. Farewell forever, my beautiful Morning Mist, for our paths must never cross again, he thought in great sadness. If they do, I must resist your powerful pull, for I will soon be joined to another for the rest of my suns and moons on Mother Earth.
Chumani left the forest and approached her parents' tepee with a bundle of wood resting across her back. As she did so, she noticed the group of horses tethered outside their lodging and surmised they had visitors. She paused to study one animal in particular, a large black-and-white creature with alert eyes and a sleek hide. It was not his beauty and size which captured her attention, however; rather, its markings and decorations were so startling, they drew her astonished gaze and caused her to walk around the horse several times to read their meanings. A yellow life-circle was painted on its left shoulder. Many white coup slashes were on its forelegs, and red ones were across its broad nose. Wide yellow circles enclosed the animal's eyes to aid its vision. Four red handprints upon its chest indicated four enemies had been slain in weaponless fighting with bare hands, telling her the man whose horse it was possessed great prowess and courage. A black square revealed its owner had been a past war leader in at least one battle, so he was highly respected and admired. Many upside-down black tracks told her the man had been on successful horse raids. Also included in the markings were blue dots of hailstone from which the animal and rider sought its power to rain a terrifying force upon his enemies. A lightning bolt to summon that element's speed and power seemingly flashed across its left hindquarter in brilliant yellow, and blue lines on the right one said he was a member of a warrior society. Attached to both sides of the thong which passed through the animal's mouth were two eagle feathers to total four in all, and beaded strips for other coups and decoration, and the same decorated the creature's dark tail and mane.
Chumani had seen many horses painted with their owner's medicine signs and accomplishments, but never one with so many. It was evident to her that its owner was an important man, a warrior of enormous prowess. Her curiosity was piqued about him and his reason for being there.
She hurried to the tepee entrance to gather information and to serve refreshments to their visitors, as her mother was still in the forest gathering wood and spring plants. Since the flap was thrown aside, it was acceptable for her to enter without asking permission first, as was the custom if the flap was down to indicate a desire for privacy. In the center of the large tepee, five men sat facing her father, their backs to her. From the flowing bonnet upon his head, one was obviously a chief. Another was older, from his white hair and bent shoulders. The other three were young males, all with dark hair cascading down their backs and with feathers attached to gathered strands.
The warrior who sat between the elderly man and chief wore a Wicasta Itancan shirt with a blue top and yellow bottom, fringed in tiny hairlocks. In his raven-black mane were three eagle feathers and one hawk feather dangling down the back of his head. One had three dots on it to indicate he had slain three enemies in a single battle. Two others had red, blue, black, and yellow hands on their shafts to reveal how many enemies in all he had slain, which were numerous. The fourth, a hawk's, she assumed was to signify his spirit helper. No doubt, Chumani reasoned, he was the owner of the much-decorated blackand-white horse.
Tall Elk, chief of the Brule Lakotas, noticed his daughter's arrival when he looked up from some of the gift items across his lap, a pile of sleek and shiny pelts from various creatures. He nodded and smiled at her.
"Do you wish me to serve water and food to our guests, Father?" Chumani saw the Shirt Wearer stiffened his back when she spoke, but did not turn toward her as the other men did as she finished her query. Yet, that was unnecessary in order for her to guess his identity when she gazed upon the faces of Chief Mato Kikta, Nahemana, Wanbli, and Wiyaka Lute of the Red Shield Band of Oglala Lakotas. What, her panicked mind shouted, was Waci Tate doing there? What would he do after he recognized her? Perhaps her voice had already exposed her identity, the reason for his odd reaction to it. Would he betray her past mischievous exploits? Should she apologize for them or remain quiet and hope he did, too?
Tall Elk rose as he said, "I must speak with my daughter alone. Stay and rest and we will return soon to seal our bond of alliance with the pipe „
`Alliance?" Chumani's mind echoed in dread. The last thing she needed or wanted was to have Wind Dancer around in the suns ahead when she must forget his tempting existence, when an undesirable joining
to another man loomed before her like a dark cloud, and she had a great and unknown challenge to meet and conquer! As she turned to depart, her gaze was snared by a war shield amidst other weapons near the entrance; it widened as she sighted the yellow dewdrop and brown hawk painted upon a cloud-white surface. Somehow she knew to whom it belonged, and its symbols caused apprehension within her. Without even glancing back at the men, she sensed their keen gazes upon her as she followed her father, her heart drumming in panic and her mouth suddenly gone dry.
Before reaching the forest, they encountered her mother, and Tall Elk told her to see to their important guests while he talked with their daughter.
Magaju nodded, confused by the strange occurrence, as it was unlike him to leave visitors alone. Magaju could not help but wonder if Chumani had committed some terrible misdeed, but prayed she had not. Their child was not intentionally disobedient or overly headstrong, but Chumani had changed since being compelled to join to a man she did not love and especially since the loss of her baby. Following that awful sun, her daughter had not wanted to join to another mate or bear another child, in fear of enduring their losses. All Chumani had concentrated on was obtaining warrior-hunter skills and honing them to perfection with the hope of finding and slaying the Crow who had caused her such grief. Magaju said another prayer that someone and something would come along to change her daughter's mind, and Sees-Through-Mist had vowed that would happen.
In the edge of the treeline, Tall Elk halted and leaned against a pine. He watched his daughter's eyes widen and stare at him as he revealed the reason why the Red Shields had come to their camp. He finished his task by saying, "The number of our warriors was lessened by the Crow attacks two winters past and following the buffalo hunt last season, and with the white man's evil sickness. We must unite with the Red Shields, my child, as the Bird People and white-eyes are many and strong, stronger if they form a truce and ride against us. That bond will be scaled with a joining between the children of Tall Elk and Rising Bear. You must do this for our people."
Lakota Winds (Zebra Historical Romance) Page 5
