Lakota Winds (Zebra Historical Romance)

by Janelle Taylor

  "Do you not agree?" he asked when she remained silent and watchful.

  "Yes, mihigna, that is true."

  Wind Dancer smiled and caressed her cheek before he removed the blanket, drew fresh air into his lungs, and lay down.

  Chumani glanced at the low fire to be sure it was all right, then took her place beside him. She closed her eyes, and before she slept, imagined what it would have been like if they had not halted their actions.

  "I go to bathe and pray. I will return soon," he said, upon arising.

  "Your shirt hangs on the rack outside. It is dry by now," she told him as she prepared to do the same before starting their morning meal.

  Wind Dancer left to fetch the garment but returned shortly and said in a somber tone, "I cannot put on a shirt that is not clean. I will wear the other one again this sun."

  Chumani took the shirt and stared at the dirt and stains upon it. She grimaced. "I do not understand," she explained. "I washed it well on the last sun. It was clean when I hung it there."

  Wind Dancer was certain she spoke the truth. "Perhaps the evil spirit sneaked into our camp while we slept."

  "Perhaps, but I will wash it again for you, for I should not have left it there with an evil-doer working amongst us. It will not happen again."

  Wind Dancer heard the frustration and anger which bubbled within her. He knew it must make her uneasy and unhappy to know she was the target of someone's-or something's-spiteful mischief. He felt those same reactions and emotions simmering within him. He did not want this wicked game to cause problems between them, to make her wish she had never come to live in his camp and tepee. "Do not worry, mitawin, "he tried to assure her, "I will find a safe way to uncover the guilty one and halt these mean tricks."

  "That will be good, Waci Tate, for it is wrong for me to have to guard our food and possessions in the camp and tepee of a great warrior and the future Red Shield chief. Now I go to bathe and pray. I will return soon and serve your meal." After she ducked and left the dwelling, she looked at her hawk on his post and said, "Guard, Cetan, for an enemy stalks me."

  Wind Dancer winced at hearing her parting words. He reminded himself Dewdrops had called him by his name rather than by the endearment she had used since arriving in his camp. He had to solve this mystery fast, as damage was being done daily to his bond with her. How could she accept and respect him as the family protector when she was being attacked so many times by mischief, and in his camp?

  When he returned from his solitary ritual, Wind Dancer found his meal ready, which told him she had rushed her tasks and communion with the Great Spirit so their dwelling would not remain vulnerable for very long.

  She looked at him and said, "My words and mood were bad and I ask you to forgive me for them. I do not blame you for the workings of a trickster or evil spirit. I know you are a man of great honor."

  "That pleases me, mitawin, and things will be good for you soon."

  Yes, for I will make certain of it, she vowed silently. I have been challenged to a battle, and I will find and defeat that enemy soon.

  Later at the river as she knelt to rewash her husband's shirt, Chumani was joined by Wastemna and her mother. She stole a sideways glance at the pretty young woman who knelt nearby to do the same task for her father. She could not forget her encounter with the war chief's daughter in the forest during her welcome feast. She wondered if Wastemna desired Wind Dancer and was the one behind the malicious episodes. If so, did the woman hope to make her miserable enough to drive her away from him? Had Wastemna forgotten about the sacred vision and impending quest? Did she not fear the wrath of Wakantanka for her misdeeds? What if it was another woman? Or a real evil spirit? Or her husband for some reason?

  Wastemna looked at the garment Chumani was scrubbing between her folded fingers. She smiled and said, "This will do better work, Dewdrops; it is called `soap' and comes from the white man's world. Rub it on the dirty spots and they will come clean quickly and easily."

  Chumani forced herself to return the woman's smile. "You are generous to share such magic with me. These dirt and stains do not wish to leave."

  "Give it to me, Dewdrops, and I will work on them for a time. Your hands are red and must hurt from your difficult task."

  "You are kind, but I will do it," Chumani said as she flexed her fingers.

  Wastemna laughed as she quickly seized the fringed shirt from the rock and rubbed a large square of soap upon the spots. "You must not be too proud to accept the help of another, one who is a new friend."

  After those words, spoken in a gentle tone, Chumani felt it would be rude to yank her husband's garment away from the smiling woman, especially with Wastemna's mother watching and praising her daughter's skills. She watched Wastemna scrub the shirt, but noticed nothing in her manner to imply she received any pleasure from handling Wind Dancer's garment. When the woman held up the rinsed shirt, Chumani was delighted to observe it had come clean.

  "See, the white man's soap has much magic and power. You may keep this one, as I have several more in our tepee. You must not refuse a gift."

  "I thank you for the gift and your help, Wastemna."

  While Chumani was busy with other chores, Wind Dancer, who had witnessed the river scene, sneaked a walk with his sister in the forest. After swearing her to secrecy and revealing the recent occurrences, he asked, "Did you remain near my tepee on the last sun while we were gone?"

  A dismayed Hanmani shook her head. "No, my brother, but I was away for only a short time. I left to fetch more beads from our tepee and to excuse myself in the forest. While I was near your lodge, no one approached her cookfire. I am sorry I did not keep my word and aided the trickster's or evil spirit's mischief. It will not happen again."

  "Do not feel bad, my sister. You did not know of the problem. If it did not exist, leaving for a short time would not have mattered. But do not forget to keep your promise of silence. I do not want to offend others with my suspicions or alert the evildoer to my watch for him, or her."

  "I will keep my ears and eyes open in search of the wicked person."

  "That is good, my sister, but be careful and silent as you do so."

  That afternoon, Wind Dancer looked at his wife as she smeared a coneflower and plant oil substance on her hands. He noticed the many scratches upon her fingers. "What injured you, mitawin?" he asked.

  Chumani was startled by the sound of his voice, as she had not heard him approach. "I quilled a new garment this sun and was careless while I worked. I have tended my wounds and they will heal soon."

  "What so distracted you, mitawin?" he asked, dreading to learn of another, perhaps more serious, incident.

  As she put aside the small wooden bowl in which she had mixed the plant oil and wildflowers, she shrugged and said, "Women's thoughts."

  That evasive answer worried him, as did the aura of sadness which surrounded her. "Things you would not speak of to your husband?"

  She looked at him and forced a smile. "That is so. Do you not also think things you wish to keep private?"

  "That is true," he said, matching her smile. "Now I go to shoot arrows with Red Feather to practice for the great hunt. We will be at the end of the camp if you need me," he told her before his departure with his bow and filled quiver.

  What I need, you cannot give to me, her troubled mind retorted, I need to leave on the sacred quest to be gone from my enemy's reach. I need to see my family and best friend, to speak with Zitkala about the secrets in my heart. I need to be convinced the vision was real and from Wakantanka.

  What you need to know most is if he can truly come to love, trust, and accept you, her heart refuted. I must discover if this is my true destiny or if it is only another trick by an evil-doer.

  "Grant me the answers I need, Great Spirit," she whispered, "and help us to find each other amidst the shadows which surround us."

  That night, Chumani was worried when Wind Dancer did not ask to practice their kissing and touching. She wondered if h
er prayers of that afternoon had been answered and she was being shown he did not love and desire her as she did him. Yes, she admitted to herself, she loved him and wanted him as she had no other man. Little could make her happier than for him to feel the same way about her.

  Wind Dancer lay curled on his left side, his back to her. He sensed her sad mood and assumed she wanted to be left alone. She seemed to be battling doubts and fears, and experiencing loneliness for her loved ones. He had ridden into her life as a whirlwind, and changed her existence forever. He had drawn her into a perilous quest against awesome forces. He had thrust her into a situation which stole her joy and serenity, and forced her to retreat from him just as he was breaking down the last few barriers to total surrender to him and their new destiny. No matter how much he wanted to hold, kiss, and comfort her, he restrained himself. He knew from past experiences that a person had to depend solely on himself for strength and on Wakantanka for guidance and solace. He also knew that love filled his heart for her and soon she would know it, too.

  The next day as he was returning from tending his horses in a nearby canyon, Wind Dancer encountered the war chief's daughter as she left the forest with a sling of firewood. When she halted to speak, so did he.

  "How is Dewdrops on this gift of a beautiful and warm day?"

  "She is fine. She works on beading at our tepee."

  "Perhaps I should visit with her, as she seems sad and in need of a friend. Perhaps that is because ..."

  Wind Dancer studied the woman's face. "Why did you halt your words, Wastemna?" he asked. "Perhaps it is wrong of me to speak them about your wife."

  "Speak them," he encouraged.

  "It seems she has trouble with her chores. Perhaps that is because she lived more as a hunter-warrior than a woman in her camp. I saw the wild campfire she made, but I did not come to help with it for fear it would shame and anger her. I also saw her bury her soup in the forest. Her hands had many wounds from quills when she fetched water this morning. I would help her learn such tasks better but I fear an offer would insult her. I helped her rewash your shirt on the past sun and gave her the white man's magic soap to make that task easier next time. Does she not like our camp and people?"

  He wondered if the female truly had only witnessed those three strange incidents or had instigated them. If it was the latter, why? "What do your last words mean?" he coaxed.

  "When many women work together, she holds herself apart and does not smile and talk with us. When she thinks no one is watching her, she eyes us with suspicion, as if we are the enemy and she is only a captive here. Will it help her to accept us if I try harder to become her friend and teach her the things she does not know well?"

  Wind Dancer was intrigued by the woman's words, for they contradicted what his mother and sister and others had told him. Was the female lying or was she only mistaken? Was she trying to be helpful or hurtful? "I did not know such things, Wastemna, for she is happy around me. If you speak to her of friendship and help, do so out of the hearing of others. It is unkind to do so while others are nearby."

  "Your words are wise, Waci Tate, and I will obey them."

  After Chumani halted her exit and remained concealed inside her tepee, she observed the encounter between Wind Dancer and Wastemna. She could not overhear their words at that distance, but she took note of their expressions and body movements. She had made friends with some of the Red Shield women, with Wind Dancer's mother, sister, grandmother, others in their extended family circles, and Hanmani's best friend Macha. Yet, no one could take the place of Zitkala in her heart or could share the confidences and companionship they had. She suspected Wastemna was only pretending to become a friend, as she had glimpsed how the woman watched her slyly. She also saw how Wastemna grabbed every chance she could to be around Wind Dancer, who appeared to be flattered by the woman's attention. Nibbles of jealousy and insecurity flooded her, but she could never reveal those feelings to anyone there, especially to him. She could not help but think that if she were his wife in all ways, she would not experience such foolish worries and his eye would not be roving in another woman's direction. Yet, she did not want to be the one to suggest they mate, or to do so only to obtain his allegiance.

  She retrieved her wood sling and untethered her hawk. "Come, Cetan, I have work to do and you must hunt for food." If Wind Dancer or Wastemna noticed her departure, she did not know, as she refused to even glance in their direction.

  Upon his wife's return with a load of wood, Wind Dancer summoned her inside and asked, "Did you move my weapons?" Had she, he worried, seen him with Wastemna and become angry and jealous?

  Chumani stared at him in confusion and disbelief. It also pinched her heart for him to even ask her such a doubting question. "No, I did not touch them; that is forbidden."

  "They are not as I left them, not as they are always positioned on the huyamni outside where they soak up the powers of Mother Earth and Father Sun. Did you bump against them as you did your chores? Do not fear to speak the truth, mitawin. "

  "If someone touched them, mihigna, it was not me. Perhaps an enemy, evil spirit, playing children, or the trickster is to blame."

  He tried to keep his voice gentle and his expression tender as he reasoned, "Red Shield children are taught from their first steps not to go near another's tepee or a warrior's weapons, and little ones are never left alone to get into trouble or danger. If it was a cunning foe, he would have stolen them. If it was an evil spirit, he would have broken them or tossed them to the ground. If it was not you, the trickster must create more mischief for us."

  It appeared to her as if he doubted her honesty when he uttered the words, "If it was not you." "I did not touch them either on purpose or by accident, mihigna; that I swear is true." Anger and disappointment surged within her.

  Wind Dancer grasped her negative reaction to his words, but he had been compelled to ask her, as the weapons would need purifying if they had been touched by a female. As a strong gust of wind suddenly and wildly flapped the entrance cover and tugged at the buffalo hides covering the cluster of poles, he said, "Perhaps the wind shook them loose, for it blows hard this sun. Now I go to hunt with Red Feather and my brother. I will bring you meat for your kettle and a hide for a new garment."

  "That is good, mihigna, "she said, taking those words as an apology for his near accusation. Even so, his doubts of her honesty lingered in her mind for the remainder of the day.

  That night when Wind Dancer asked if she wanted to kiss and touch, she told him, "I am tired and need sleep to tan the lovely hide you brought to me, mihigna; we will do so on the next moon."

  On the eighth sun since joining to Wind Dancer, Chumani worked outside her tepee to tan the hide of the deer he had slain on the past one.

  She knew the procedure well. A hide or pelt was either pegged fur side down or was stretched taut and secured to a wooden frame. Fat and bits of meat were scraped off with a sharp tool. Afterward, it was rubbed with animal grease and brains to soften and condition it. Tanning was done with sumac and with buffalo brains, liver, and fat. Then it was stretched out to dry as snugly as possible so it would not curl at the edges or pucker along its surface. Last, it was twisted, pulled, and rubbed for a lengthy time to soften it even more.

  It was late afternoon when she went to fetch water and wash up at the river. As she did so, she glanced skyward to see if she sighted Cetan who had been released to hunt fresh prey because she was there to guard her dwelling, and he had learned the area from many past hunts.

  Chumani entered her lodge to find Wastemna preparing to leave it. As both women halted in midstep, Chumani noticed how nervous the intruder was. "Do you sneak into my tepee to cause mischief again?" Chumani raged. "Were the other tricks not enough to appease your bad feelings for me?"

  Through the open flap, Wastemna saw Wind Dancer approach and stop nearby. "I did not come to cause trouble for you, Dewdrops. Your words are cold and cruel, and your heart is not kind. I came to bring fruit bread
and a wanapin I beaded for you with your name symbol as a show of friendship. I do not understand your hostile words and feelings for me and my people."

  Chumani glanced at a place near the campfire and saw the items the woman had mentioned, the bread and necklace with a yellow dewdrop in its center. "Why did you not leave your gifts outside, as it is not the custom to enter another's tepee when they are gone or the flap is closed?"

  "I wanted to surprise and please you, to show you I accept you into our band and wish to become your friend. Why do you treat me so badly? What have I said or done to offend you?"

  "If I spoke in haste and wronged you, Wastemna, I ask your forgiveness and understanding. A trickster or evil spirit has done wicked things to me," Chumani said more kindly, then detailed the four evil actions.

  "You think I am to blame for such mean things?" Wastemna asked when Chumani concluded her explanation.

  Chumani observed her look of astonishment, but believed it was faked. "I did not know why you entered my tepee without permission, so I thought you might have come to do more mischief while I was gone."

  "I have not done such wicked things, Dewdrops, and I would not do such things, for you are the wife of our next chief and you are the vision woman. Since our tepee is nearby, I will keep alert for the one who is to blame. Can we not bury the knife between us and become friends? I will tell no one of your bad words to me, for I understand why you spoke them, and they would cause trouble for you with others."

  Since the female had a logical excuse for her presence, Chumani felt it unwise to call her a liar. She decided it was best to pretend she believed her. "Your words please me and your heart is kind. We will become friends. And I thank you for your gifts and generosity."