Cedar Woman

by Debra Shiveley Welch

  Chapter Six

  Earth, Teach Me

  Earth teach me quiet – as the grasses are still with new light. Earth teach me suffering – as old stones suffer with memory.

  Earth teach me humility – as blossoms are humble with beginning.

  Earth teach me caring – as mothers nurture their young. Earth teach me courage – as the tree that stands alone.

  Earth teach me limitation – as the ant that crawls on the ground. Earth teach me freedom – as the eagle that soars in the sky.

  Earth teach me acceptance – as the leaves that die each fall.

  Earth teach me renewal – as the seed that rises in the spring. Earth teach me to forget myself – as melted snow forgets its life. Earth teach me to remember kindness – as dry fields weep with rain.

  A Ute Prayer

  Lena stood before the restaurant and tried to screw up the courage to enter. The sign in the window, “Help Wanted,” seemed to draw her to the entrance while pushing her back at the same time. At age 14, she wasn’t sure if she could convince the owner that she was qualified, but she was determined to do so.

  The advancement of an older woman, a look of purpose upon her face, propelled Lena through the doors. If there was to be competition, she needed to plead her case first.

  She saw the woman pass the entrance, and felt a little foolish, until she realized that she was finally in the restaurant, and was the only person there. She relaxed for a minute, walked to a small table, and sat down. Taking a deep breath, she looked around, calming her nerves as she prepared to convince the owner that she was just the right person for the job.

  Lena first noticed the establishment when she decided to go on a small adventure. She quickly coaxed her friend Nickie Greene to walk to the downtown area with her as a way to spend a sunny Saturday. Nickie’s one objection was the two-plus mile walk from the south end of Columbus, but Lena won out, and Nickie admitted that she had actually enjoyed their walk.

  Lena wanted to see the City Center, which opened recently. Stories of the many stores and restaurants, the glass elevator, which transported patrons from the first, the second and third floors, intrigued the young girl.

  Lena particularly enjoyed walking through the restaurants, which populated the gargantuan complex. Quietly asking permission, she

  strolled through each space, taking note of fabrics, layout, seating and ambiance. There was a quickening within her young breast, a feeling of excitement. How exhilarating it would be to own such a place, prepare good food, and present it to the public.

  It was upon leaving the center, and beginning their walk back to the south end, that Lena noticed the sign in the window of Vicki’s, a small eatery on the west side of High Street and just south of Town Street.

  Lena suggested that they enter, and Nickie, always ready for a snack, readily agreed.

  The room was narrow with an eight-stool counter running along the north wall. Cracked linoleum lined the floor in a black and white checked pattern. Tables for four were scattered throughout the space,

  their varnished wooden tops scarred from many years of use.

  A four-burner stove butted against a griddle, which sizzled beneath a large black board upon which, scratched in chalk, the specials for the day were presented, the standard foods offered each week, and the prices.

  The restaurant was old, but it was spotless.

  Lena studied the menu. The blackboard listed several drinks – the usual: Coke, Sprite, Iced Tea and coffee. A chalked line down the middle separated the beverages from the foods available for that day.

  Hot dogs and hamburgers, egg sandwiches and various soups were available. Lena sniffed the air and made the quick assumption that the soups were canned and not freshly prepared. Her interest peaked.

  She decided that she would return on Monday and apply for the job.

  Vicki Compton moved to Columbus upon her marriage to her husband, T.J. Theirs was a happy union until his death a few years back. She decided to keep the restaurant. The house was too empty without her husband, and the extended hours, from providing just lunch, to lunch and dinner, gave her something to do.

  Standing at 5’4”, and weighing 120 pounds, the dark-haired, childless widow made the restaurant her child. It was her baby, and she loved it immensely. Here she worked side-by-side with her husband

  until the afternoon he collapsed upon its cracked, linoleum floor.

  Vicki’s earned a small profit, enough to keep the business going and her personal bills paid. She was content.

  Preparing for the lunch crowd, and prepping the griddle for the first rush, Vicki did not notice Lena’s arrival at first. Turning to wipe down the counter, she was startled to see the young girl waiting patiently at one

  of her tables.

  “I’m sorry, Sweetheart. I didn’t see you. What would you like?” “I’d like a job, please.”

  Lena placed her key into the front door lock, and slowly entered the living room of the first story apartment where she, her father, mother and grandmother lived. She entered the small, three room dwelling, and gently closed the door. Seeing that her father was not in the living area, she assumed that he was taking a nap, and did not want to wake him.

  It had been a grueling two years since his tractor accident. The hospital in Peebles transferred Peter to the medical center at OSU in Columbus. Mary accompanied him with only a small bag, in which was packed only the barest necessities. Lena stayed with the Countrymans until her unci,26 Reva, arrived at the Columbus Greyhound Bus Station on Town Street, and proceeded to the small apartment, located on Front Street, which Dean and Nellie rented for them.

  Uncle Dean, as Lena called the devoted farmer, drove her to the apartment, arriving just as her grandmother stepped out of the Yellow Cab she had rented at the station. Dean entered the apartment and was satisfied. He and his brother worked together, and made sure that the refrigerator was stocked, the few pieces of furniture from the May Hill home were delivered and arranged, and all of the basics such as towels, sheets, soaps, dishes and pots and pans were in place.

  Dean’s brother Gary owned the apartment building, and moved by the story of the little family, and swayed by his brother’s love for the Catchers, cut the rent to the bare minimum, including utilities and a phone. It was a gift of love from complete strangers that captivated Lena’s heart with its generosity.

  Placing her purse on the counter, which separated the living room from the kitchenette, Lena opened the refrigerator door and pulled out the

  ingredients for the evening meal. Tonight it would be Three Sisters

  Soup.

  Ate! Lena ran to the huddled form of her father as he emerged from the largest bedroom, shared by him and Mary. Partially paralyzed on his left side, Peter sometimes struggled to remain upright in his wheelchair when tired or newly awakened.

  “Ate!” Lena repeated, and leaned forward to kiss her father on his cheek. Straightening, she smiled at her grandmother.

  “Unci, I’ve started our supper. Why don’t you and Ate come into the kitchen area and talk while I cook?”

  Reva smiled at her fourteen-year-old granddaughter. Wambli is definitely her totem, she thought. She is strong. Also, the turtle, which

  26 Unchee - grandmother

  urges her to nurture. A fine, young woman, Reva Two Strikes assured herself.

  It had been a difficult time for Reva. Her only child, her strong son, had been cut down in an horrific accident. It hurt to see him reduced to a wheelchair for most of the day. Hurt her to see his left hand curled into a

  claw, caused by spasticity, a common symptom of a brain injury. Hurt

  her to see him stumble for words. Peter Spotted Eagle, once so strong and handsome, was now reduced to being cared for by his women, a deep blow to a man of his cultural upbringing, or any upbringing for that matter.

  Reva nodded, and wheeled Peter to the doorway of the kitchenette. Hiking herself upon a stool, and leaning her elbows on the counter, s
he said,

  “So, what have you been up to today?”

  The opening of the door interrupted Lena’s rehearsed reply. Mary, just home from her job at a nearby German bakery, entered slowly. She looked tired, worn out in fact.

  Mary One Feather was a tireless advocate for her beloved. She seldom left his side, and was indefatigable in his physical therapy exercises. Returning from work, tired and stressed, she would walk directly to Peter, kiss him, and only after she knew that he had eaten a good meal, would she allow herself the sole luxury of a hot bath. That finished, Peter’s exercises would begin and continue for an hour at least.

  It didn’t matter that Peter’s mother had given Peter his therapy a few times during the day. Mary was his wife, and it was her duty to make sure that all of his needs were taken care of.

  More in love with her husband than ever, Mary was deeply grateful to Wakan Tanka for Peter’s return, and was determined to bring him back as close to his former self as possible.

  Walking slowly into the room, Mary placed her purse upon the coffee table and walked to her husband. “Mihinga27” she murmured lovingly, placing a lingering kiss upon his forehead. Peter attempted a smile, and with his right hand, touched her still unlined cheek. “Mitawin,”28 he murmured in return, forming the word slowly.

  Mary was still a beautiful woman. At 50, she retained her youthful, willowy figure. The only change was the look of fatigue in her still glowing eyes, and the numerous strands of silver, which wove their way through her shimmering, dark locks.

  27 Mee-heen-gha – Husband

  28 Mee-tah-ween – Wife

  Lena gazed in wonder. Was she the only one who saw the phenomenon whenever her parents’ hearts seemed to fill with love for each other? Was she the only one who saw the floating hair, the nimbus of light, which encircled her parents? Was she the only one who heard two hearts beating in unison?

  Lena did not have the chance to share her news. Actually, she was glad, because she needed to formulate a plan in which she could make her announcement in such a way as to guarantee permission to take the job.

  She cleaned the kitchen after supper, and claiming homework, went to the smaller bedroom which she and Reva shared. Lying down upon the double bed, she closed her eyes and reviewed the past two years of

  her young life…

  Lena filled the hours until she was reunited with her family with prayers and frenzied preparations. Uncle Dean looked puzzled when she asked if he had a piece of rawhide he could spare. Luckily, he remembered a good-sized piece stored in the barn, and handed it to his spiritually adopted niece. His heart constricted at the site of her childish face – so purposeful, her lips pressed together in determination. She accepted the gift of the rawhide with her left hand, the hand closest to her heart, and murmured,

  “Wopila, Uncle Dean.”

  Dean drove her to May Hill, and entered the small house with Lena. She didn’t waste time. Walking purposefully to the kitchen, she picked up her father’s jadeite coffee cup, and placed it in a basket she’d brought

  with her to the house. Entering the bedroom, she located the eagle plume

  Mary tied to Peter’s hair during their wedding ceremony. A pipe, given him on Christmas by the Countryman’s (one of his favorite possessions), and a whittling knife she gave to him for his birthday, went into the basket as well.

  Finally, she selected a picture of herself, her mother, and the three of them together, and added them to the collection. These items, so plain and seemingly of little value, would go into the medicine bundle that Zitka Mine commanded she make.

  Later that evening, Lena went to the upstairs bedroom of the Countryman’s house. She called it “the red room” because everything was red. Papered in red roses, the room boasted an airy atmosphere, not

  unlike you would feel in a rose garden. A dresser, painted in indian red,

  upon which sat a pitcher cradled within a matching bowl, an iron bed and a wardrobe painted in the same rich shade, were the only furnishings.

  Pictures of ancestors graced the walls, and Lena was positive that one of them was a woman of the Cheyenne.

  Lena loved this room, and enjoyed playing in it on the occasions when the Countrymans offered to baby sit, but she was not up here to play today. Today she had important work to do.

  Lena cut the rawhide to the size she needed, leaving enough to act

  as a tie. Placing the objects she’d selected into the middle, she wrapped it carefully, and tied it with the reserved rawhide. The medicine bundle was ready. Lena sat upon the floor, the bundle in her lap, and prayed to Creator:

  “Creator, this is Cedar Woman. I ask that you have pity on me, as I am pitiful and small and weak,” she intoned, remembering her mother’s prayer in the sweat lodge.

  “I come to you in humility, and ask for the life of my father.”

  The ride to Columbus was interminable. She was leaving her beloved May Hill, her loving Uncle Dean and Aunt Nellie, and the friends she’d made in her twelve years on this earth. But, she was anxious to be reunited with her family, and to find out how her ate was. She prayed most of the way, silent, gazing out the windows, as farm land and standing corn soon turned to rows of houses, industrious towns, and finally, the tall buildings of downtown Columbus, Ohio.

  Dean exited off of US 23, and drove the short distance to the Front Street apartment, breathing a prayer of gratitude at the sight of Reva Catcher stepping out of a brightly painted Yellow Cab.

  Dean walked up to Reva Two Strikes Catcher, hand extended in welcome.

  “Mrs. Catcher,” he murmured. “I wish we could have met under better circumstances, but I am still glad to finally make your

  acquaintance.”

  Reva gazed at the sun-bronzed farmer and smiled gently.

  “Creator has decided that we meet, and so we have. Thank you for taking such good care of my son and his family.”

  As Reva spoke, she reached out to Lena, smoothing her glossy hair gently, finally placing her left hand upon her only grandchild’s shoulder.

  “Wakan Tanka has chosen a great friend for my son. I am

  grateful.”

  Dean blushed, not an easy accomplishment under his permanent farmer’s sun-bronzed tan, and thanked her.

  “Now,” he offered, clearing his throat from the emotion-inspired tears which filled it, “let’s get your bags into the apartment, and I will take you to Peter.

  Lena sat in the corner of her father’s small room in the medical center. The door was closed, and Mary had requested that they be undisturbed until the door was opened. The nurse to whom she’d spoken looked a bit concerned, but she trusted Mary’s judgment, even though she’d only known her for a week, and decided to give her some time. She knew that Mary was performing something called a healing ceremony, and held deep respect, as well as a certain awe, and a lot of curiosity, for Native American practices. She wished she could be included so that she could see what a healing ceremony was all about. She hoped that Mary would give her an Indian name, so she acquiesced, and looked longingly toward the door the entire time.

  Beside Mary was Tell Wolf Catcher, Peter’s cousin, who drove from Iowa to help with the healing ceremony which Mary was about to begin.

  Mary first smudged the room, bringing all spirits into harmony. They had not been able to perform a sweat lodge ceremony, so Tell Wolf requested the use of the sweat lodge of his brother, Joe Red Bear, before leaving Iowa.

  Mary placed the medicine bundle Lena made in the bed beside her husband. Waving her prayer feather above him, she prayed to Tankasilus29 to make her husband whole, and to make her whole again. She prayed that Peter’s taku skan skan30 be returned to its shell. Tell Wolf held the canumpa31 above Peter and prayed as well, as Mary continued to wave her prayer feather above her husband’s body, waving, waving, entreating his taku skan skan to return to its shell.

  Lena observed her mother solemnly. Again she was enthralled with her mother’s floating hair, which began t
o turn gray the day of the accident. It floated upon the air like a wisp of smoke, not unlike the transparent ribbons that rose from the bowl when her mother smudged. A shimmering light surrounded her, but her father’s form remained dark.

  An half hour passed, and then another. Still her mother and Tell Wolf prayed, sometimes chanting, sometimes silent, their mouths moving with their entreaties. Slowly, slowly, her father’s body began to glow. Their heart beats separated, but continued to beat in unison. Lena leapt to her feet! Her father was alive!