by Jenna Kernan
* * *
The women followed the hunters, using horses to turn the great carcasses from one side to the other. Skinning knives flashed in the sun and hides were gathered with the meat. Women tugged arrows from the bodies, each shaft assigning the prize to the hunter who had made the kill. Skinning the huge beasts was hot, sticky, messy work—women’s work.
They labored late into the afternoon. At sunset they carried away what they could and left the rest for the scavengers. By firelight they cut the glistening red muscle into thin strips of meat. The persistent wind and dry air would draw away the moisture and leave the leathery meat that would last all winter as jerky or be pounded into powder for pemmican.
The next morning Raven’s muscles were sore and her back ached, but she rose and gathered water before Spotted Fawn and Laughing Moon were even awake.
Tonight the tribe would feast. Tonight the Crow women would flee.
As she crossed the village she found the Sioux women already lighting cooking fires. In the center of the village sat the large open area where a pile of dry cottonwood awaited lighting this evening for the great central fire.
When she returned it was to find Iron Bear coughing so hard he turned purple. Turtle Rattler was summoned and gave their chief a tea to ease his raspy breathing. As always, the oldest captive, Frog, accompanied him. While the men, Spotted Fawn and Laughing Moon were occupied, Frog pulled Raven aside.
“You go tonight?” she asked.
Raven glanced toward Laughing Moon, who was lifting her husband so Spotted Fawn could pour the tea into his mouth. Then Raven spoke to Frog.
“Yes. Tonight,” whispered Raven.
“I will stay here.”
“What? No,” she whispered.
“I have made a life here,” said Frog. “And Turtle Rattler needs me.”
“He has not married you.”
“He has.”
“Not to his people.”
“In his heart and in mine. It is enough.”
Raven blinked in astonishment, then gathered her wits. “When we go, they may take it out on you.”
Frog lifted her chin a notch toward the shaman, who chanted over the old chief.
“He will protect me.”
Raven glanced from Frog’s confident expression to the shaman.
“If you change your mind, we will be gathering during the buffalo dance.”
“I will not change my mind. Good luck to you,” said Frog, and then returned to Turtle Rattler, kneeling at his side.
A Crow marrying a Sioux—their shaman. She could hardly believe such things were possible.
Chapter Fifteen
Raven passed the afternoon working with the buffalo skins. It was a tedious process, and she hated this work.
By the time the light faded and the drums began to pound, her back ached and her fingers were raw. Still, she washed in the river below the place where the Sioux women bathed. The captives exchanged looks but did not speak of their plans. There was no need. All were alert, anxious and focused.
The drums called the people to the gathering ground for feasting and dance. Raven’s skin prickled with anticipation. Would they make it home?
She tried to rein in her nervous energy as twilight crept over the tribe, making the fire bright. There was so much meat that even the captives had their fill. The others watched her, and she ate a good meal, but less than she could hold. Little Deer, Snake, Wren and Mouse all did the same.
The Sioux women made a circle, without the captives, of course, and began a slow circle dance, their moccasins pounding the grass flat. Snow Raven inched farther from the central fire. There were smaller fires everywhere tonight. She watched the others gradually move to the shadows.
“There you are.”
She startled to hear Running Wolf’s voice. She forced a smile.
“Congratulations on a successful hunt. You have brought much meat.”
“More than the women will be able to hang, I fear. Did you see my kills?”
She had, and congratulated him on his prowess.
She let her eyes devour him. He was safe.
“Did any fall?” she asked.
“No, but Red Hawk planted his lance in a mound of earth. I wonder if his eyes are bad. Also one of the young warriors, Little Feather, lost a horse to a bull’s horns. Overall it was a good hunt.”
He clasped her hand and tugged her away from the dancers, past the near lodges that ringed the central open ground.
“I have missed you,” he said, and dragged her into his arms, his breath leaving him in a rush.
She closed her eyes and savored the sweetness of his embrace. What would it be like to stay with him, the way that Frog stayed with Turtle Rattler?
But the shaman had made Frog his woman, claimed her, married her.
“I have a plan,” he said.
She knew she could not turn back. Without her, the others would have no chance. But still she grasped at his words like a hawk hungry for a mouse.
“What plan?”
“Spotted Fawn once had a sister.”
Raven drew back, confused.
“I do not understand.”
“Her sister died. She has lost a sister. That means she could adopt you, make you the daughter of a chief once more. Then as the sister of my wife, I could marry you, as well.”
Her heart ached. This was his solution, to keep all he had—his position, power, status—and add her as a second wife.
She drew back and rested her forehead on his chest. “It is a very good solution.”
The joy brightened his voice. “Do you think so?”
“Any captive would jump at such a good offer.” But not her.
“It is the only way that I can keep you safe and have you as a wife.”
“Yes. I see.”
He pulled her back and studied her face. Did he see the sorrow that tore her heart to pieces?
“Oh, Raven. I am sorry. I know you want a man to choose you above all. But I am a war chief of the Sioux.”
“Yes. A good warrior must protect his tribe first.”
Could she have found a better solution? No.
Her answer was to leave the man she loved. And she was now preparing to do just as he planned to do, choosing her people above him. She could not blame him for doing the same.
She stared up into his handsome face. She could not have him, no more than she could follow her mother across the sky.
“No matter what happens,” she said, “I will dream of you and a place where you and I are not enemies and can live together in peace,” she whispered.
“We will live together. I will convince Spotted Fawn.”
The girl was young, but she was not a fool, and only a fool would take a captive as sister at her husband’s request. Did he not see that?
“I am lucky to have a war chief’s protection, and know his love.”
He stroked her cheek and smiled. “It is just the beginning for us.”
“Yes. A good start.”
Then she tilted back her head and leaned forward until her aching breasts met with the hard pressure of his chest, and still it was not enough. He touched her face, kissed her mouth and held her as if he would never let her go.
He threaded his fingers in her hair and fisted his hands, tugging tight so that a shiver of delight raced down her spine. She reveled in the look of need shimmering in his eyes and knew that her eyes were like mirrors brought by the white traders, reflecting back his passion.
She could not say goodbye to this man. But later, after they were gone, he would recall her words and know this for what it was: a parting.
The drums ceased and they paused to listen. The warriors gave a great cry and the drums began
again.
“The buffalo dance,” he said, his face animated, full of anticipation. “Come and watch me dance.”
Chapter Sixteen
He pulled her along until they passed the lodges, and then his hand slipped from hers. Raven had to stop herself from calling him back for one last kiss.
He turned to her, grinning, as he entered the circle of men for the buffalo dance.
Raven looked past Running Wolf and found each captive staring back, faces drawn with worry. She nodded and retreated back into the shadows. One by one they would slip away. She thought of the bridles the women had made of their hair. They would not be strong enough. She must get strong bridles and saddles if possible.
She gradually moved back until she sat behind the chief, out of his vision. Then, when the men began to dance, she stood and walked away from the circle, carrying a horn cup as an excuse for her departure. She saw no one as they moved through the shadowy outline of lodges.
She knew exactly where Running Wolf and Iron Bear kept their bridles, so she took those. Then she took a good portion of the dried buffalo, Running Wolf’s bow and quiver and all the arrows from the chief’s quiver. She also stole the chief’s knife. Finally she took both Running Wolf’s hunting saddle and his war-saddle frame and what skins and rope she could carry. Laden with all this, there could be no other explanation of her purpose than her real one, so she skirted the lodges, moving in the darkness with a swift step.
The moon had not yet appeared, but she needed time to cut six horses from the rest. They needed only five, since Frog was staying behind. But it was wise to have an extra.
The boys who had the unlucky duty of watching the horses were all at the inner edge of the herd so they could hear and sometimes see the dancers. They whooped and sang in their own small circle, making such a ruckus that she could have been beating a drum and she doubted they would have heard her.
She began with Song, slipping a noose over her head and then bridling her within the herd. Her horse gave a soft nicker at her mistress’s nocturnal visit. Raven set the small section of buffalo skin down upon Song’s back as a pad and tied it beneath the horse’s barrel. She did not place the saddle on her mount, as she thought the women who were inexperienced would need it more than she did, for they could grip the pommel for support. Mouse and Little Deer were small and could ride double tonight. She could not take any of the fast, smart buffalo horses because the warriors had all wisely picketed them before their lodges for safety from raids. She selected five more horses, saddling and bridling two and putting a lead on the final two.
She had the horses tied in a line when Mouse appeared with Little Deer and Wren. Wren carried several skins rolled and tied for travel. Each brought something for the journey.
“We brought robes against the cold,” said Mouse.
“Four,” said Snake, lifting the bundle in her strong arms.
“Frog is not coming,” said Raven.
Mouse lifted her hands in a gesture of shock, and one of the horses shied. Raven settled the mare and tried to decide if she had time to change her out with a less jumpy horse. But already Snake came creeping along, a skin over her back so she looked like a horse until one realized that she carried a cradle board against her body. Seeing that cradle board and the anxious looks in the faces of the women made Raven realize the risk she took with all their lives.
They all stood shifting nervously from side to side, anxious to begin. Beyond the herd, the drums continued to pound and the voices of the men reassured her that they were not yet discovered.
Snake helped Mouse up into the saddle of the second horse as Raven held Song’s head and kept her still. Next Snake climbed awkwardly up onto the third horse and looped her infant boy’s cradle board over the pommel of the saddle. Little Deer sprang up on the second horse behind Mouse, and Wren took the pinto at the back that also wore only a saddle pad of buffalo hide. With all mounted, Raven jumped across Song’s withers.
All the women lay low over the horses’ necks so as not to stand out among the herd. Raven guided the string of ponies through the others until she saw nothing before her but the open prairie and the waving grasses. The rising of the moon cast little light and the dark clouds swept across the sky. She hoped it would not rain again but then perhaps it would shield their escape.
She moved at a walk until they had crested a rise and settled down the other side of the hill. Once out of sight of the Sioux, she told them to hold on and began a trot that eased into a lope. She listened for a fall, but all the women clung like ticks on the ears of a buffalo.
It was a gamble. For the warriors would pursue them the moment they discovered their escape, and unless they found safety among their people, Raven had no doubts that they would catch them.
The race had begun. Would she find her people before the warriors of the Sioux found them?
She tracked their progress by the light of the moon and the racing clouds. The others were silent. The only sound came from the horses’ hooves and the wind that blew from the north.
She headed southwest, knowing that her people would also be following the herds of buffalo that blanketed the grassy plains, as they did every year. The skins were necessary for food, clothing and shelter. Without them, her people could not survive the harsh winter. She wondered how her tribe’s warriors would manage the hunt without their horses. She also wondered if she could find any of the Crow tribes before the Sioux overtook them, and then they would be saved.
The moon moved across the night sky and the women moved across the prairie. To the east came the first wisps of dawn fighting the storm clouds to break the day.
They had stopped only once, briefly, and then Snow Raven had made them walk their tired horses along in the darkness. She could see only a few feet before her and they stumbled along over the uneven ground, making a trail so wide that even a white trapper could follow it. All were thirsty, as they had carried no water. Foolish, perhaps, but the extra weight would slow them, and if they did not find help today they would be taken by the Sioux in any case.
Little Deer trotted up beside Raven to tell her that Mouse had fallen and refused to rise. Raven called a halt and found Mouse folded in a heap with the others gathered about her.
“Do you still bleed?”
“Only a little. But my thirst is great and my legs will not carry me.”
“I will help you back onto your horse,” said Raven, and then motioned to Little Deer. Together they managed to lift her to her feet. Seated Mouse clutched the horse’s mane, and looked down at them.
“You should leave me here.”
“No,” said Raven.
She glanced out at the waving grass and the storm-filled skies. “Sometimes in the wind I hear the calling of my little boy. I know my husband has guided him to the Spirit World and that they wait for me there.”
“That’s enough of that talk. We go,” said Wren. “They will be coming for us now.”
The women looked back, but instead of the warriors in pursuit they saw low black clouds sweeping across the plain in their direction.
“Rain?” said Snake.
Wren shook her head and drew her baby, still bound in his cradle board, even closer. “That does not look like rain.”
“Snow?” asked Snake.
Wren nodded. “Perhaps it will cover our trail.”
“Everyone up. We ride,” said Raven. But she knew it was hopeless. The storm was too big and too fast. Soon she felt the sting of hail pound down upon them.
The hail grew to the size of her thumbnail. When it reached the size of a thrush’s egg, she called another halt. They picketed the horses in a circle and the women all crouched on the ground beneath the buffalo robes for protection. The hail beat down upon them. From the edge of the robe Raven could see the white hailstones bouncing upon the ground and pi
ling up upon one another.
When the hail finally slowed, they threw back the robe to find themselves surrounded by a Sioux raiding party. Little Deer screamed and Snake wept. Mouse turned to Raven and asked for her knife.
“Better to die here than there,” she said, but Raven did not give it to her.
“Perhaps they will only return us to their village,” said Wren.
“And perhaps they will only cut off our feet,” said Mouse.
“Or send us all to the common women’s lodge,” said Wren. “Oh, I should have stayed with Pretty Cloud.”
The men moved quickly. Raven knew their faces, but was surprised not to see any of the warriors she knew. These were the younger men, anxious to count coup and earn the rights associated. Did they not even warrant the attention of the senior men?
No, she knew those men had feasted and danced after their victory against her people. They would not go chasing after a few missing women.
Raven did not run, but waited with the others as their wrists were tied before them and they were placed on the horses they had stolen. The ride back to the tribe took less time than their outward journey. Raven was ashamed to see that she had carved a half circle, instead of the straight line she had intended.
The warriors announced them with cries of triumph echoed by the boys who shook their fists as they passed. What would happen now?
It was not until they reached the council tent that they were cut down and the horses led away. They were left outside the council tent in the mud to await their fate.
They watched the warriors come and go from the council tent. She watched Running Wolf exit the tent. He stopped and stared at her for a long time. Was that disappointment or fury? She could not tell from his grim countenance. But she recalled his warning on that star-filled night. If she ran, he could not protect her. The council now held their fate. Running Wolf turned and walked away.
“I will see my husband soon,” said Mouse.
“Yes,” said Raven. “Perhaps.”
