Full Circle

by Rosanne Bittner

  Black Hawk told Little Fox to sit down, beside her, and he took his own place on her other side. “You have studied our culture?” he asked.

  “Yes. For instance, I know that the walls of this lodge are built to a peak to symbolize the sky. The round shape of a tipi represents the sacred life circle, with no beginning and no end. For special ceremonies, this area, the Catku, is where you would build your sacred altar and burn sweet grass to keep away evil spirits.”

  He frowned in surprise. “And what do you know of the sacred life circle?”

  A chill moved through her as she thought again about how she sometimes felt as if the spirit of Wild Horse lived in Black Hawk. They were so much alike. It was as though God was showing her that there really was an endless circle of life. “I know that it is never-ending: birth, life, death, a new birth. The circle of life has no true beginning and no true end.”

  Their eyes held, each realizing the other was thinking much deeper thoughts than they dared admit. “This is true,” he answered, “but now I fear the circle will be broken. It is already broken for many other Indians in the land of the rising sun, whose tribes no longer exist because they vanished when white men took their lands. Their circle of life is no more. I do not want to see that happen to my people. I fear that if they turn fully to the white man’s ways, they will lose themselves, and the circle of life for the Sioux will be no more.”

  “That doesn’t have to happen, Black Hawk. There are ways to adjust to this new life without losing all that you are. What you are doing here today is one way of doing that. You made a very wise choice.”

  He straightened, a proud look on his face. “We shall see. Before we begin, you must tell me why you have learned so much about my people. I have never known another white person, missionary, teacher, trader, none who learned our language and culture and who truly cared about these things. Why would a small white woman from a place in the East care about my people? There are many things you do not tell me.”

  Evelyn was surprised and touched by his keen insight. “Yes, there are, Black Hawk. Some of them are things I cannot tell you until I know you better. But I can tell you that I lived on a Cheyenne reservation down in Indian Territory. My father was a preacher, and my mother insisted that the only way for him to reach the Indians was to learn their ways first, understand their own religion and culture.” She looked away from him, disturbed by his compelling, dark eyes. She picked up a reading book and pretended to be looking at it as she continued. “Things happened there that I never forgot, Black Hawk. I learned many things about the Indians, and until my mother died she instilled in me the importance of being tolerant of the beliefs and cultures of others. She often spoke of how she felt there was much yet to do, was always concerned about helping the Indians adjust to the changes in their lives our people brought upon them.”

  “And why did she care?”

  Because she fell in love with a Cheyenne man. “I… I guess because once she went there with my father, she made many friends among the Cheyenne. She learned to love them and wanted to help them. That love and desire to help carried over to me, I guess. That’s why I am here. I feel it’s my duty, that God expects me to be here.” I am here because of a dream, Black Hawk, a dream that involves you. She held up the book for both of them to see. “We really should get started. We don’t have a lot of time.” She wanted dearly to change the subject. She could not tell him the whole truth… not yet.

  She began pointing to the letters of the alphabet, printed boldly in the book, with words and pictures that started with each letter beside them. “This is an A,” she said. “There are different sounds this letter makes, sometimes long, like in Ape, or short, like in Apple. You will learn which way to pronounce the A by the way—”

  Black Hawk touched her wrist. “Ape? What is Ape?”

  She smiled softly. “Ape is an animal, a monkey. See the picture? It’s a furry animal that lives mostly in South America and Africa, where there are deep forests called jungles. They use their tails to swing from tree to tree.”

  Black Hawk and Little Fox both frowned and stared at the picture. “It has a face almost like a man,” Little Fox commented.

  “Yes.” She thought about telling them that some believed men were the descendants of apes, but she decided that would be too much for either of them to consider for the moment.

  “I do not like that animal.” Black Hawk frowned. “I think they are the spirits of evil men, who have been forbidden to go to the promised land and find peace after death. Instead, they are put into this strange animal and never allowed to be free again.”

  Evelyn smiled at the idea. “Well, you can see monkeys for yourself in about five weeks. The government is sending a circus to Standing Rock.”

  “Circus? What is that?”

  Evelyn lowered the book to her lap. “A circus is a show, kind of like when your people get together and race horses and have other contests and dress in their fanciest paint and feathers to dance. You know that Buffalo Bill Cody was an entertainer, that your own Sitting Bull traveled with him. They put on Wild West shows to entertain people.”

  He frowned. “I did not like what he did. I think sometimes it made us look bad.” He suddenly smiled. “And sometimes, Sitting Bull told us, he would speak to the crowd in our tongue. He would insult them and call them liars and fools, and they did not even know what he was saying. They would clap and cheer.”

  Evelyn laughed lightly. “Very clever.” She turned to Little Fox. “Well, a circus is a great show for entertainment, much like what Buffalo Bill did. There will be animals from other lands, very unusual animals you have never seen before; and there will be clowns with painted faces, and people will perform wonderful stunts, like swinging from a high trapeze, juggling balls. You really should both come and see for yourselves.”

  Little Fox’s eyes lit up, but Black Hawk frowned again. “I will think about this, but I do not want to look upon the face of one of those apes. I believe it is bad luck to look into the eyes of an animal that might carry a man’s lost soul.”

  Evelyn decided not to press the issue. “Let’s just study the letters for now and learn how to sound them.” She glanced at one of the paintings again, still overwhelmed by the talent shown. Black Hawk already had a way of entering the white man’s world without losing his own, and he did not even know it. She continued with the lesson, pleased at how easily both Black Hawk and his son learned the first five letters of the alphabet. She would have preferred that they come to the school, but as the day progressed, she was glad to have the chance to come here instead. What she thought would be a tiring, uncomfortable experience became refreshingly relaxing, even though she was teaching.

  This place was private and peaceful, a beautiful little world of its own. Time passed quickly, and in the early afternoon Black Hawk cooked rabbit over a fire outside near the bubbling creek. They discussed Sioux culture compared to the white man’s.

  “We give no thought to time,” he told her as he turned the spit. Fat dripped from the rabbit onto the hot coals, making little hissing sounds. “The white man does everything by the clock, getting up, eating, working, going to bed. If the clock says it is time to eat, he eats, even if he is not hungry. If he is hungry, but the clock says it is not time to eat, he stays hungry. I do not understand this. I also do not understand working for other men, being paid in useless paper that is traded for food. Why not just go out and hunt your own food and not have to work for it? Or why not trade something you already have, like robes or beads or a weapon? We have lived for many lifetimes just by doing our own hunting and trading. We have never needed white man’s work or white man’s money to survive. Our life was good, so why does the white man think it was so terrible that we must change it? We were happy and free and our bellies were full. It is the white man who is not wise in how to live off the land. He kills animals and cuts down trees as though there is a never-ending supply. Now the buffalo are nearly gone, an
d hills once forested are bare. The white man is foolish, yet he thinks he is so smart and educated.”

  Evelyn smiled, then picked up a stick and poked the coals to stir them. “I completely agree with you, Black Hawk. We are smart in book learning, but ignorant in the ways of nature and survival. I believe that some day perhaps we will have to turn to the Indian and ask for his help because we have destroyed all that we need to live on, but I think we can learn from each other. It does not have to be all one way or the other.”

  He smiled sadly, meeting her eyes. “Most of your people do not think as you do.” He watched a piece of her hair drift in a soft breeze. She wore it pulled back at her neck with a pretty hair ornament. She had left it in a long tail, and he was impressed with how thick and wavy and long it was. He could not help picturing it draped over bare shoulders, hiding firm breasts. She was unlike any woman he had ever known, Indian or white: educated but wise, intelligent but caring. He was more sure than ever that she was the woman in his vision, and he knew he must talk to Night Hunter about her.

  The three of them ate, then washed their hands in the creek. Evelyn reviewed the morning lesson, pleased to see that both father and son remembered the sounds of the letters they had learned that day, as well as most of the words that went with them. She left them each a reading book to study and promised to return the next day.

  “No,” Black Hawk spoke up, surprising her.

  “Why? Is something wrong, Black Hawk?”

  “Nothing is wrong. You taught us well today, enough to study until the next time you come, next Saturday. I was just testing you. I thought you would not even come today. Now I know that you would come again tomorrow as promised, but you should have your own day of rest, and the freedom to practice your own religion. I know that tomorrow is the day white people worship their God in their church. You will want to do the same. Leave us the books and we will study them until you return the next Saturday.”

  How could she tell him that she would actually rather come here, where it was so peaceful and scenic… where she could be close to him? It would seem much too bold. “Thank you, Black Hawk,” she answered. “And thank you for the gift you left when you visited me at the school. I will try braiding it into my hair the next time I come.”

  He smiled, thinking how pretty the colors of the hairpiece he had left her would look in her golden hair. “I will get your horse ready and lead you back,” he told her, walking off to where the horses were tied.

  Evelyn actually felt a little depressed at having to go. She retied her bonnet, hating the thought of riding back into the heat… and into her own world. She had enjoyed teaching Little Fox, who was a warm, intelligent boy, friendly and eager to learn. The love between father and son was touching. It was obvious Little Fox meant everything to Black Hawk. He was all the man had left of his family and his old life.

  Black Hawk brought her horse, and their eyes held as he lifted her up to the sidesaddle. She had so much more to tell him, wondered just how much she should tell him. Black Hawk moved onto his horse in one swift motion, instructing Little Fox to stay close to the tipi until he returned. He rode away from the little garden spot and back into the hot, dry canyon. Evelyn followed, feeling as though she had only dreamed about the place and the special time she had spent with this rebellious Sioux man who everyone thought was so cunning and dangerous.

  As they made their way along the twisting pathway, neither of them noticed a figure quickly duck behind a rock near the place where they rode up the steep bank to the open area that led back to the twin hills. It was Otter Woman, who watched stealthily, her suspicions a reality now. Black Hawk had told her to stay away today and tomorrow, and now she knew why. The white woman! He had brought her to his hidden camp. Why! What was this spell the white teacher woman had over Black Hawk? Had they made love? A raging jealousy burned in her heart. She did not mind being replaced by a younger Sioux woman Black Hawk might want to take for a wife… but a white woman! She spit on the rock in front of her, wishing it was the teacher woman with the light hair and blue eyes. Otter Woman hated her. She had to find a way to get rid of this white bitch who had probably already taken her place in Black Hawk’s bed, before the woman destroyed Black Hawk by turning him to the white man’s ways!

  Eleven

  Jubal Desmond rode up to the dilapidated frame home of Seth Bridges, wondering if the man ever did a lick of work of his own. It seemed that every time he rode by here, the younger girl, Katy, was out hacking away at trying to keep down the grass and weeds, and Lucille was scrubbing clothes and hanging them, or out in the fields picking corn and beans. The house was in disrepair, and the farm as a whole was run-down.

  Desmond had never actually stopped here before. His dealings with Seth had always been at the fort or at a secret meeting place with Seth and whiskey traders. This was different. This was a need greater than whiskey or a good card game, a need that could only be satisfied by coming here to see Lucille.

  He nodded to Katy as he dismounted. She only frowned and kept whacking away with the scythe. “Someday…” he muttered under his breath. He tied his horse. This was his day off, and he was free to go wherever he chose. He hoped no one saw him come here, but if so, he could always say he was just paying a formal thank you visit to Miss Lucille for the good time he’d had two weeks ago.

  He did not see Lucille anywhere around as he walked up onto the sagging porch and knocked on the door. He was in uniform, but he had unbuttoned his shirt because of the heat. He could hear Seth grumbling as he came to the door. “Who the hell is it?” he growled.

  “It’s Sergeant Desmond.”

  Seth opened the door and peered out at him with bloodshot eyes that still had sleep in them. “C’mon in. What the hell you doin’ here at the house?”

  Jubal stepped inside and closed the door. “I want to talk to you about Lucille.”

  Seth scratched his head. He turned and led Jubal into what Jubal figured was supposed to be a parlor, although it was littered with an assortment of furniture covered with another assortment of trash—clothes, newspapers, ashtrays, dirty glasses. “Find yourself a place to sit,” Seth told Jubal. “Just shove somethin’ aside if you need to. That damn Lucille is always runnin’ around tryin’ to make the place clean, but I’ve always told her to stay out of this room. This is my room, and I like things comfortable.”

  “Where is she now?” Jubal asked.

  Seth shrugged. “Out sloppin’ the hogs, I think.” He sat down with a grunt in a broken-down, stuffed chair that was torn and soiled. From the body imprint in the chair, it was obvious to Jubal that this was where Seth Bridges sat when he was not doing anything else, and he figured that was probably most of the day, every day.

  Jubal himself turned and shoved aside some clothes and papers from what might have once been an attractive silk loveseat, but which was now faded and ripped. He sat down in it and faced Seth.

  “So? What the hell do you want with Lucille, as if I didn’t know?” Seth asked him. He reached over and picked up a smoldering cigar.

  Jubal grinned. “You were willing to give her over to pay a gambling debt. I’m wondering if you’re willing to sell her favors for whiskey—whatever else you’d want. I have a couple of friends I might tell about her. I know they’d be quiet about it, and they’d give a month’s pay for a night with her.”

  Seth rubbed at his bristly chin. “I don’t know—”

  “Don’t go pretending you give a damn about her,” Jubal said. “I already know what you do with her—quite the loving father, aren’t you?”

  Both men chuckled, and Seth leaned back in his chair. “Her pretty little ass got to you, did it? Once a man gets in somethin’ like that, it’s hard not to want more,” Seth said with a grin. “Trouble is, she don’t come cheap. For one thing, she ain’t gonna like the idea. My only hold on her is threatenin’ to turn on her sister. Long as she thinks doin’ what I tell her will keep Katy safe, she’ll do i
t. The reason the price is high is because you’re takin’ away my own pleasure.” He puffed on the cigar a minute, then pulled it out of his mouth and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Here’s how it is, Jubal. You and your men start humpin’ on Lucy, and that leaves me with used goods. I can’t turn to her sister on account of once I do, I ain’t got no more hold over Lucy. She’ll run off on me, and I’m out of whiskey and income. I’ll let it go for a while, but just you, not your friends. You can have her any time you can come by, long as you keep me in whiskey. I know that goddamn Black Hawk run off them last traders ’cause I seen it with my own eyes, but I know more will come, and I’m countin’ on you to let them by.”

  Jubal straightened. “You saw Black Hawk roust out the last ones? Is he the one who destroyed their wagon and all those cases of whiskey?”

  Seth nodded.

  Jubal rose. “I knew it! I knew it was Black Hawk!” He paced for a moment. “The sonofabitch knows he can get away with it because you don’t dare report it. Even I can’t, because I’d have to say who told me, and that would get you in trouble. Besides, it would make me look bad—a damn Indian doing what I’m supposed to be doing. Damn him!”

  “Point is, you’ve got to see about lettin’ more through. I know you’ve got contacts—know some of the suppliers. Whatever you have to do—do it. I’m runnin’ low. After awhile there’s somethin’ else I’ll be wantin’ in payment.”

  Jubal sat back down. “What’s that?”

  Seth puffed on the cigar again for a moment. “A fresh woman,” he answered, keeping the cigar between his teeth. “I’m gettin’ tired of Lucy, and once you and your friends start sharin’ her, there won’t be much left for me. Like I say, I can’t take up with Katy yet, or I won’t have no control over Lucy. I’m gonna be wantin’ somethin’ fresh.”