Full Circle

by Rosanne Bittner

  “Big Belly is lazy. He sends his children so that someone else will look after them! He has no pride, and his only friend is a bottle of firewater!”

  “Red Foot Woman is respected by your people. Talk to her. She will tell you I have not tried to change He-Who-Hunts. I have not cut his hair or asked him to dress differently. And there are others now. More have come because they are beginning to trust me. Falling Eagle sends his son and daughter, Fast Arrow and Laughing Girl. Many Hands sends all three of his sons, Tall Buffalo, Prairie Runner, and Flying Horse. I call them by their Sioux names because I respect the names given them by their loved ones. I know that they have also been given Christian names, but I use only their Sioux names. Why would I do this, and why would I have studied for years to learn the Sioux tongue if I did not truly care about your culture and respect your ways?”

  Black Hawk found himself both admiring this woman for her courage in talking right back to him, in his own language; and hating her for that same courage, which made her speak boldly to a warrior, with a truthful look in those blue eyes that made him look and feel foolish. It only made him more determined to be right, more determined to convince himself she was lying, like all whites had lied to his people from the first time they set foot on Indian lands and drew up their first treaty. Little Fox rode up beside him, and he put out his hand. “Stay back from this woman!” he ordered the boy. He grasped hold of Evelyn’s forearm, squeezing just enough so that he knew it hurt. “Leave now,” he sneered. “You do not belong here!”

  Evelyn refused to show that he had brought her pain. “I will leave, but not out of fear or because you order it!” she answered firmly. “I will leave only because I respect your reasons for wanting me to go, because you feel this is too sacred a moment for one such as I to share! You do not frighten me, Black Hawk,” she lied. “It is you who fears me! You fear I might take something precious from you, but you will learn that you are wrong! And there is something more. There is something we must both settle between us, but neither of us knows yet what it is. This is not the last time we will meet. You feel it, and I feel it!”

  She yanked her arm away and rode off, her heart pounding, feeling on fire in a way she had never before experienced longing to stay and talk to the mysterious man who had kept her awake nights, and the sight of whom sent desire rushing through her like a waterfall. Her blood still felt hot from his touch, and she was sure now that Black Hawk was the reason she was here, the powerful force that had drawn her away from a settled life of comfort and peace back in Wisconsin. She shivered with the eerie sensation the sight of him had given her. She knew she had to find a way to get close to him again.

  Anita rode up beside her, laughing lightly. “You surprised Black Hawk by standing up to him, Evy,” she told her. “He tried to be mean to you, but I could tell he was greatly impressed by you! You have given him much to think about. I have never seen anyone face him so boldly! What did you mean about him fearing you, and that you will meet again? Have you had a vision about Black Hawk? You must talk to Night Hunter if this is so!”

  Evelyn, more shaken than she wanted Anita to know, slowed her horse and turned it to see Black Hawk still watching her. “It’s very personal, Anita. I don’t know yet just what I’m going to do, but come hell or high water, I am going to see Little Fox in our school!” She turned and rode off, and Anita looked back at Black Hawk. “You have met your match, Black Hawk,” she said quietly, and with a smile. “And it is not another warrior or a soldier. It is a small white woman with eyes like the sky.”

  Evelyn rode at a near gallop, her mind whirling with confusion. For the moment she just wanted to get as far away from Black Hawk’s discerning eyes as possible. Her arm still hurt where he had grabbed it, and she did not doubt his painful hold would leave bruises. She was amazed at her own courage when talking back to him, but now she felt like a fool for some of the things she had said, not only because they had been almost intimate, but because Anita had heard her.

  She headed toward her now-finished cabin, glad she had a place to go where she could be alone. She hardly noticed the group of five soldiers that came toward her from her right until they were close by and hailing her to slow down. She pulled on the reins of her horse, not realizing until the men surrounded her that one of them was Jubal Desmond.

  “Where you headed in such a hurry, Miss Gibbons?” the man asked. “Something wrong?”

  Evelyn began to perspire in the midday heat. The hard ride had shaken loose some of the hair she had bound into a loose bun at the top of her head. She knew she must look a mess, and she was embarrassed, as well as irritated that Jubal Desmond thought he had a right to stop and question her. “I just wanted to feel some wind in my face,” she told him. “It’s so very hot. If you will please go on with whatever you’re doing out here, I will be on my way.” She started to continue on, but Desmond grasped her horse’s bridle.

  “You look upset, ma’am,” he said with a cocky grin. He glanced in the direction from which she had come. “Couldn’t be you went to that celebration Black Hawk’s family and friends are having for his sister, could it? What’d they do, chase you off?” He chuckled. “I could have told you not to go there. You’re lucky Black Hawk himself didn’t send you running.”

  “Please let go of my horse, Sergeant Desmond.”

  Desmond released the animal. “Long as I’ve got you here, I’d like to ask you to a dance, Miss Gibbons, next Saturday at the fort. Will you do me the honors?”

  Evelyn scrambled to think of a way out. She hardly knew Desmond, but she detested him just the same. Still, she suspected it was best not to cross him, or to embarrass him in front of his men. “I am very flattered, Sergeant, but I am afraid I don’t dance. It is against my religion,” she lied. She loved to dance, although her father had always preached that it was sinful. “I hope you can understand.”

  The man shrugged. “You don’t have to dance, if you don’t want. There will be plenty of food. You can just eat and keep me company and watch everybody else dance.”

  “Besides, the sergeant don’t dance too good anyway,” one of the other men spoke up. The rest of them laughed lightly, and Desmond scowled at the one who had made the remark.

  “Shut up, Henley! Go on with the rest and get over to that shindig they’re having. Make sure nobody starts trouble. Black Hawk could come along and rally them together. He’s been feeling his oats lately.”

  Evelyn watched them all ride off, and she worried for Black Hawk. “It’s just a puberty celebration, Sergeant. Everyone there is quite peaceful.”

  The man rubbed his chin. “Maybe so. We’re supposed to keep an eye out just in case. And if everything is so smooth over there, how come you were riding hell-bent out of there a minute ago?”

  Evelyn prayed she would be forgiven for her continued lies. “I told you, I just wanted to feel the air in my face because of the heat. Most of them were in a tipi when I left. There was nothing to watch, so I decided to go home.”

  “Well, whatever the reason, I’m glad I caught you. Will you go to the dance with me?”

  The man’s gaze raked over her hungrily, and Evelyn shivered. She thought how strange it was that Black Hawk’s grabbing her wrist and trying to threaten her had not made her nearly as apprehensive as merely being around Jubal Desmond did. “Perhaps another time, Sergeant. I am so busy, what with just moving into my own cabin, more children coming to the school every day and all. I truly appreciate the invitation. Why don’t you let me think about it for the next couple of days? It’s so warm, I just can’t think straight right now. I would like to get to my cabin and change my clothes.” To her relief, Anita rode up beside her.

  “I decided to catch up with you, Evy,” she told her. “I was going to stay, but I was worried about you riding back alone.” Her horse shuddered and was beginning to lather. “You rode off so fast, I could barely catch up!”

  “I’m just fine, Anita.” Evelyn noticed the way Desmo
nd looked at the Indian woman, as though she were nothing but a bit of trash, something to be ogled but not respected. “Check with me in a couple of days,” she told the man, putting on a smile for him. “And thank you for the thought, Sergeant.”

  The man nodded. Evelyn could not be sure if he was upset or not. “You be careful now,” he told her. “And if I were you, I’d stay away from those Indian ceremonies. It’s no place for a lady like you.” He tipped his hat and rode out after his men. Evelyn breathed a sigh of relief.

  Anita watched after him with a frown. “I do not like that person one bit. When I saw him and his men surround you, I rode faster to get here. I thought perhaps they were giving you a bad time.”

  Evelyn urged her horse into a slower trot. “He asked me to a dance Saturday night. I told him maybe, only because I didn’t want to embarrass him in front of his men, but I have no intentions of going with him.”

  Anita rode beside her. “It is best that you don’t, but I fear he is someone who does not like to be crossed. He has a reputation among my people as a bully and a man not to be respected.”

  “I can handle the sergeant, Anita.”

  The woman grinned. “Like you handled Black Hawk?”

  Evelyn cast her a scowl. “I hope you don’t go telling Janine or the reverend about what happened, Anita. It’s a personal thing. If I feel there is something they should know, I’ll tell them myself.”

  “I will not say a word.”

  Evelyn looked back at the sergeant, who was headed for the site of the puberty ritual. “He won’t make trouble for Black Hawk, will he?”

  Anita shrugged. “I do not know. The soldiers are only to stay back and watch. They cannot get close.”

  Evelyn prayed there would be no trouble, but she knew she had more than that to pray about. This restless stirring in her soul and the unanswered questions she had about her dream were going to make it difficult to sleep. She had to see Black Hawk again, find a way to get closer to him. It irritated her that she had to think of a way to turn down Sergeant Desmond. There were so many other things to think about right now, including considering Anita’s suggestion that she talk to Night Hunter. Now that she had met Black Hawk and was convinced he was the man in her dream, she needed some answers that only an Indian holy man could give her.

  Black Hawk flexed his hand, thinking how slender and breakable the white woman’s arm had felt in his grip. He did not want to like or admire her, yet touching her had sent a tingle through his body, and her boldness had left an impression. Her blue eyes were true. He sensed that she did not lie, yet to trust a wicasa ska, man or woman, went against all that he was sworn to accept about his enemy, especially a white teacher.

  Why had the woman said they would see each other again? What was this strange familiarity with someone on whom he had never set his gaze before? It was a puzzle, as was the attraction he felt to her. The woman in his vision had been faceless, yet he knew she had been white, with hair like yellow grass.

  His thoughts were interrupted when his lovely young sister came out from the sacred tipi, wearing a white tunic, her forehead painted red. He smiled at how pretty she was, and a feeling of protectiveness came over him. She was marriageable now, but he would make sure she went only to a fitting warrior who would provide well for her, as well as could be expected now that they were forced to stay within the confines of the reservation.

  How he longed to live the old way, the way he remembered as a boy, free and wild, migrating with the seasons. The white man had ended all of that, had taken away his wife and another son. “Go and join in the celebrations,” he told Little Fox. Both had dismounted and tied their mounts. Little Fox ran down the hill to take part in the feast that had been prepared. Everyone had contributed something, and in that precious moment Black Hawk saw a few happy faces. He remembered how it was after a buffalo hunt, when those who downed the most animals shared their meat and the byproducts with those who were not so lucky in the hunt. A grand feast was always to be had those first few days while the women cleaned the hides and smoked more meat for winter and made pemmican. Nearly everything they needed had come from the buffalo: clothing, utensils, water bags, blankets, tipi hides, sacred rattles, war shields, jewelry, hair ornaments, moccasins. When the buffalo ran as thick as grass, they were able to live off the animals and the land. They did not need the white man’s handouts.

  Now all of that was gone. He seldom even spotted a buffalo anymore, and sometimes he wondered if perhaps soon there would be none left at all.

  “Aren’t you going to join your sister and the others, Black Hawk?”

  Black Hawk turned to see Jubal Desmond and four other men sitting on horses behind him. His own eyes turned to slivers of hatred. Desmond was one of those who made him want to keep fighting, a soldier he would gladly run his knife through if he could get away with it. The lieutenant had been at Wounded Knee, and Black Hawk had himself witnessed the man shoot down several unarmed Indians. Never would he forget the sight of Desmond sitting on his horse near Turtle Woman when he found her shot in the head Small Bear lying bloody and dead beside her. Desmond had hounded him ever since, trying to find reasons to arrest him. Black Hawk suspected it was because he had a guilty conscience. Perhaps Desmond was afraid of him, afraid he would seek revenge. He could sleep better if he knew Black Hawk was behind bars in one of those terrible prison camps in the South.

  Desmond was part of the reason Black Hawk often liked to ride near the fort or the agency at night and give out war cries. He wanted the sergeant to feel a chill down his spine, wanted him to be nervous. “I will go and wish my sister well soon,” he answered Desmond in English. “You and your men need not be here. This is a celebration, not a war dance.”

  Desmond grinned nervously. “That’s what your people said about the Ghost Dance, and look what that led to.”

  Black Hawk studied the man intently. “Yes,” he answered. “I well know what it led to, and all because of the stupidity and cowardliness of the soldiers who were there and did not understand. You were so ready to shoot us down before you tried to understand what had happened. Go away, Sergeant! You do not belong here!”

  Desmond rode closer. “Don’t let me catch you making trouble, Black Hawk. Word is, somebody has been stealin’ cattle and horses from white folks up north of here. You’d have a hard time provin’ your whereabouts if you got blamed. And another thing, me and my men found a whiskey wagon all busted up a few weeks ago, whiskey bottles spilled out all over the place. You have anything to do with that?”

  Black Hawk shrugged. “I do not know of this.”

  “I’ll just bet you don’t,” Desmond sneered. “You stay out of soldier business, Black Hawk, or you just might stir up more trouble than you can handle!”

  Black Hawk did not flinch. He gave Desmond a look that he could see was making the man shake in his boots. “When the soldiers start taking care of their business the way that they should, protecting my people from the whiskey traders and those who would steal their land from them, then I will not have to do the soldiers’ business for them!”

  Desmond leaned over in his saddle. “You watch yourself, Black Hawk. You’re looking to go to prison, and then there won’t be anybody around to protect that boy of yours.”

  Black Hawk just grinned. “You are a brave man when you are surrounded with others who would help you, and when your opponent is not armed.” He reached up and quickly yanked Desmond’s hat down over his eyes. “You watch yourself,” he said. He quickly turned and walked away, taking pleasure in the sound of laughter from the other men as he headed toward the celebrations.

  “Black Hawk, you sonofabitch!” Desmond shouted. “Come back here, you red-skinned bastard!”

  Black Hawk heard more laughter, then cussing from Desmond, and orders for his men to shut up. “Someday I will repay you for Wounded Knee,” Black Hawk muttered. He did not fear that Desmond would try anything here, not with so many Sioux around, and n
ot without just cause. The peace between the Indians and the soldiers on the reservation was always a tentative thing, and any time he could put fear in the heart of Jubal Desmond, or insult the man in front of others, he would take advantage of the moment.

  He turned to see Desmond and the others riding away. “Until we meet again, my friend,” he sneered. He thought again about the white woman whom he had chased away… or had he? Perhaps she really had left out of respect and not out of fear. She was a woman of great mystery, and he decided that if they truly were destined to meet again, he would not really mind; but he would not let her know that.

  Eight

  Lucille brushed her long dark hair as she studied herself in the mirror. It was always a blessed relief to her when Seth went off alone. Each time he did so, she daydreamed about something happening to him and that he would never come back. Since he had been gone all night, probably playing poker with some of the soldiers, he would probably show up any time now. She was finished with morning chores, and if she was lucky, Seth would be tired and want to sleep the rest of the day, leaving her and Katy a free afternoon.

  She leaned forward, cocking her head one way and another. Was she pretty? She grasped some of her hair and twisted it up on top of her head realizing it made her look older, much more a woman. A woman… Tears stung her eyes when she realized Seth had not even allowed her to be a child, and now that she was nearing an age when most young women married, who would want her? Would Seth even allow her to marry? Was it her place to tell a man she was not clean and pure, that her own adoptive father had stolen what should belong to a new husband?

  She let her hair down and shook it behind her shoulders. Seth liked her hair this way, brushed out long. She gulped back a sob and grabbed the dark tresses angrily, twisting them into a simple bun at the nape of her neck. Why had she even bothered to wash her hair, or to wonder if she was pretty or what it might be like to have a real husband who loved her? She probably couldn’t even have babies, and thanks to Seth no man would want her anyway. She rose from the wooden chair she had pulled up in front of the sagging dressing table with its faded, foggy mirror, thinking how that mirror reflected the true Lucille, faded and distorted, not clean and bright and new.