The Spirit Path

by Madeline Baker

  He was about to face toward the front again when he saw a familiar face. He blinked hard, wondering if he was seeing things, but the face didn’t change and it didn’t go away.

  Reining his horse out of the column, Shadow Hawk nodded to Maggie as she rode by, and then grinned broadly as Bobby Proud Eagle drew up beside him.

  “Hi, Hawk,” Bobby said, laughter bubbling in his throat. “I bet you never thought you’d see me here, did you?”

  “Bobby, what are you doing here?” Maggie asked. “How did you get here? I can’t believe it.”

  “Look at you,” Bobby said, his eyes wide. “You’re standing. Walking. How…?”

  “I guess the doctors were right. I just had to want it badly enough.” She shook her head. “When Hawk left…I couldn’t let him go. And here I am. Now, come on, tell me about you. How did you get here?”

  “I came through the Sacred Cave. I remembered all the things you told me, and I did it! Finding you was just a lucky coincidence. I ran into the hunting party and Buffalo Heart picked me up.”

  “But why have you come?”

  “Do you remember I once told you I felt I’d been born in the wrong time? Well, the more you taught me about our people and the old ways, the stronger that feeling got. But that’s not the reason I came.”

  Bobby ran his hand through his hair, then smiled. “Hawk, when you and Maggie disappeared, I went up to the Sacred Cave. While I was inside, I heard a voice saying, ‘Proud Eagle, you must follow the Hawk,’ and I remembered hearing the same words during my vision. At the time, I thought it meant what you said it did, that I would become a doctor and be the next Lakota medicine man back on the reservation. But when I went to the Sacred Cave, I knew it meant I was to follow you here, to your time. That I was supposed to find you.”

  “And so you have,” Shadow Hawk exclaimed, pleased beyond measure at seeing the young man again. “Come, let us catch up with the others. We will talk more this evening.”

  An hour before dusk, the Indians made camp. Later, when they were settled for the night, Bobby came to visit.

  Maggie threw her arms around Bobby and hugged him tight. It was so good to see a familiar face, so good to see someone from home.

  “Bobby, what are you doing here?” she asked “How did you get here? I can’t believe it.”

  Sitting beside the fire Bobby retold his story. Winona listened quietly, politely.

  Maggie could hardly sit still as Bobby told his tale. Bobby’s eyes fairly glowed as he told of going to the Sacred Cave, emerging to find everything that was familiar gone. His voice rang with excitement as he told of climbing to the top of the rise and seeing the Lakota battling with the Pawnee.

  “So,” Maggie said excitedly, wondering at the pensive look on Hawk’s face. “You’re going with us to Canada! That’s wonderful.”

  Bobby grinned. “I’m looking forward to it. Oh, and Miss St. Claire, don’t worry about your house. Veronica’s boys are looking after things.” Bobby frowned. “They said they’d stay until I got back…” Bobby’s voice trailed off. He wasn’t going back. “Maybe you should worry.”

  Her house. Maggie shook her head. She hadn’t even thought of her house. Or the book she’d left unfinished. What must Sheila be thinking!

  “Did my editor call?”

  “Yeah, several times. She sounded real mad, especially since I couldn’t tell her where you were.”

  “No, I guess you couldn’t,” Maggie agreed. She looked at Hawk and smiled. She’d always wanted to live in the past, to be swept off her feet by a handsome warrior and it had happened. “Well,” she said with a laugh, “there goes my career.”

  Later that night, lying in the warmth of Hawk’s arms, Maggie thought about Bobby and wondered what it all meant. Had he truly been born in the wrong time? Had she?

  Drawing back a little, she looked at the man sleeping peacefully beside her. Her husband. She had never known it was possible to love another human being so much. Just looking at Hawk made her heart swell with tenderness. He was everything to her: father, brother, friend, confidant. He had exorcised her guilt over Susie’s death, made her feel feminine and desirable, given her a reason to walk again, shown her how beautiful love could be.

  They made their permanent winter camp four days later along the banks of a wide shallow river lined with cottonwoods.

  Maggie helped Winona set up their lodge, marveling anew at how quickly and efficiently the Lakota women set up housekeeping. By midafternoon, it looked as if the village had been there for weeks instead of hours.

  While Bobby and Hawk sat in the pale sunlight talking with Red Arrow and Buffalo Heart, Maggie walked along the riverbank looking for firewood. She nodded and smiled at the other women she met, glad for their friendliness toward her. She was, after all, a stranger, a white woman, but most of them treated her with courtesy and respect.

  Still, there were a few who treated her rudely, ignoring her overtures of friendship. They called her names, their eyes dark with distrust and loathing. Maggie didn’t blame them for their feelings. White men had killed their husbands, their sons. Perhaps, if she’d lost a loved one in battle, she’d feel the same.

  When she returned to their lodge, she saw that Winona had a fire going. The family altar was in place in the rear of the lodge, a pot of venison stew was cooking over the fire, filling the air with warmth and savory smells.

  A short time later, the men came inside and Winona handed them bowls of fragrant stew.

  Maggie sat in the back of the lodge behind Hawk, her gaze never leaving her husband, her eyes drinking in the sight of his broad back and shoulders, the easy way he moved. Her heart warmed to the sound of his laughter, her fingers ached to reach out and caress the black waterfall of his hair. She wished they were alone in the lodge, wished he would take her in his arms and hold her close and promise her that everything would be all right.

  Maggie learned a lot about being a Lakota woman in the course of the next few days. She learned that young girls were to be reserved and retiring in the presence of both men and older women. A proper Lakota girl was loving, industrious, and generous, kind to all people and all animals. A woman did not eat with the men. She kept to the left side of the lodge. She was to sit in a way that was modest and becoming. She spoke the female language. For instance, a man would say Tokiya la hwo? Where are you going? But a woman would say Tokiya la he?

  Very young girls were expected to wash dishes, gather wood, pick berries and keep the lodge tidy. In this, Maggie thought, Indian girls were not so different from their white sisters. As a girl grew older, she learned to cook and to tan a hide. Quilling and beading were also considered things a Lakota woman should excel at. If a girl had a younger brother or sister, much of its care fell to her.

  The next few days passed tranquilly. The men repaired their weapons or fashioned new ones while the women put the finishing touches on new winter moccasins, shirts, and robes and the boys began making sleds out of buffalo ribs in anticipation of the coming snow.

  And then, overnight, winter was upon them in a howl of wind and a roar of thunder. Rain fell in great icy sheets, but inside the lodge it was warm and cozy. Grass had been stuffed between the tipi liner and the outer cover, providing insulation. A trench had been dug around the perimeter of the lodge to keep the rain out.

  That night, Bobby, Hawk and Maggie sat around the fire while Winona told the story of how the crow came to be black.

  “In days long past,” Winona began, “when the earth was young and the people were new, all crows were white. In those ancient days, the people had neither horses nor guns. Like the people of today, they depended on the buffalo hunt to survive.

  “The crows made things difficult for Lakota hunters because they were friends to the buffalo. Flying high above the prairie, they would cry, ‘Caw, caw, look out, cousins,’ to warn the buffalo that hunters were coming.

  “The people held a council to decide what to do. There was among the crows an especially l
arge one who was the leader, and the chief of the people decided they must capture the big crow and teach him a lesson he would not forget.

  “The chief found a large buffalo robe, with the head and tail still attached, and put it on the back of a brave young warrior. ‘Cousin, you must hide among the buffalo. They will think you are one of them, and then you can capture the big white crow.’

  “Disguised as a buffalo, the young man did as he had been told and just as the chief had said, the buffalo thought he was one of them. When the young warrior was in place, the hunters came out of hiding. As they approached the herd, the crows began to call their warning and all the buffalo ran away, all but the young warrior who pretended to go on grazing on the lush green grass.

  “Confused, the big white crow landed on the hunter’s shoulders. Flapping its wings, it said, ‘Brother, why do you not run away? The hunters are nearby. Run and save yourself.’

  “Just then, the hunter reached out from under the buffalo robe and grabbed the crow by the neck. With a piece of rawhide, he tied the crow’s legs together and carried it back to camp.

  “Once again, the people sat in council to decide the fate of the crow.

  “‘I will burn him up,’ one of the warriors declared, and before anybody could stop him, he grabbed the crow from the hunter’s hands and tossed it into the council fire.

  “The string that tied the crow’s legs together burned through right away and the big crow managed to fly out of the fire, but many of his feathers were singed and though he was still big, he was no longer white as the snow.

  “Quickly, he flew away, promising that he would never again warn the buffalo. And so he escaped, but ever since that time, all crows have been black.”

  It was a wonderful tale, Maggie thought, and clapped her hands in delight, while Bobby begged for another story.

  “Just one,” Winona said, and began the tale of the end of the world.

  “There is a place where the prairie and the Badlands meet and at that place there is a hidden cave. No one has been able to find it for many winters.

  “In the cave lives a woman who is as old as the earth. She is dressed in deerskin. She has been sitting in the cave since the earth was young, working on a blanket strip for a buffalo robe. She is making the strip out of porcupine quills. Resting beside her is a big black dog named Shunka Sapa. The dog’s eyes never leave the old woman.

  “A fire burns a few steps from where the old woman is working. She lit the fire when the earth was young and has kept it burning ever since. Over the fire hangs a big earthen pot, the kind the people used before the white man came with kettles of iron. Inside the pot, wojapi is boiling. The soup, made of sweet berries, has been boiling ever since the fire was lit.

  “Every now and then the old woman gets up to stir the soup. Because she is so old and frail, it takes her a long time to make the trip to the soup pot. As soon as her back is turned, Shunka Sapa starts pulling the porcupine quills out of her blanket strip. Because of this, the old woman never makes any progress on her quill work and her blanket remains forever unfinished.”

  Winona paused, her dark eyes intent on Bobby’s face.

  “And do you know what would happen if Shunka Sapa stopped pulling the porcupine quills from her blanket?” she asked, her voice hushed.

  Mesmerized by the tale, Bobby shook his head.

  Winona nodded slowly, her gaze moving over the faces of her audience. “Should that old woman ever sew the last porcupine quill into place and finish the design, the world will come to an end.”

  Winona said the words with such conviction that Maggie shivered.

  Bobby laughed out loud, delighted with the tale. In the few short days that he had been among the Lakota, he had come to love and respect their way of life, their stories. This was where he belonged, this was the life he had been born to live. These were truly his people. He felt at home here as nowhere else.

  He bid Hawk and Maggie good night, embraced Winona affectionately, and left the lodge. The rain had stopped and he stood outside, his face turned up to the leaden sky. And then he walked resolutely toward Buffalo Heart’s tipi, because Buffalo Heart had a daughter named Star-on-the-Wind who was the most beautiful, graceful, delightful creature Bobby had ever seen.

  He had met her the day they arrived at Sitting Bull’s camp, and he had seen her every day since. Buffalo Heart didn’t seem to mind that Bobby came calling and had, in passing, remarked that Star-on-the-Wind had refused to see any other young man since Proud Eagle arrived in the village.

  Thinking of that now put a spring in Bobby’s step and he hurried across the camp, oblivious to everything else.

  Star-on-the-Wind stood near the door of her lodge, a heavy red blanket wrapped around her head and shoulders, her gaze constantly straying toward Shadow Hawk’s tipi. Had Proud Eagle forgotten her? Only this morning he had promised to come courting.

  Disappointment perched on her shoulder, black as the clouds overhead. Though she had known Proud Eagle only a few days, she knew he was the man she wanted to marry. He was so tall and handsome, just looking at him made her heart flutter like cottonwood leaves in a high wind.

  It was growing late. Soon, her mother would call her to come inside. Star-on-the-Wind sighed. She was about to go into the lodge when she saw Proud Eagle hurrying toward her.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Proud Eagle said. He smiled into Star’s midnight black eyes, felt his heart thump as she smiled back at him.

  “I was afraid you had changed your mind.”

  Proud Eagle shook his head vigorously. “No. Winona was telling stories and I…” he shrugged. “I’m sorry.”

  Star-on-the-Wind lowered her lashes shyly as she opened the blanket, allowing Proud Eagle to share it with her. For a time, they didn’t say anything, just stood there in the sheltering folds of the big red blanket.

  Proud Eagle took a deep breath, then slid his arm around Star’s waist, wondering if she would rebuff him, wondering if he was moving too fast. But she didn’t push him away; instead, she sidled closer to him until they were touching at shoulder, hip and thigh.

  “I’ve never gone courting before,” Proud Eagle remarked, keeping his voice low so passersby couldn’t hear him.

  Star-on-the-Wind placed her hand over his and gave it a squeeze, pleased beyond words that he’d never been serious about another woman. “You are doing fine,” she murmured.

  “Must I court you for a long while?”

  “Some courtships last several years,” Star-on-the-Wind replied. Her tone was somber and thoughtful, though her eyes were filled with merriment.

  “Several years!” Proud Eagle exclaimed.

  “We have not known each other very long.”

  “I feel as though I’ve know you all my life.”

  She smiled up at him, her dark eyes luminous. “For me it is the same. Perhaps in the spring you could bring horses to my father’s lodge. My mother and father think very highly of you. I do not think they will make us wait too long.”

  “Another day will be too long,” Proud Eagle murmured, but he knew he would wait months, years, if necessary, so long as he could have Star-on-the-Wind for his wife.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Within a few days, everyone in the village knew Proud Eagle was courting Star-on-the-Wind. He tried to be discreet, but his gaze followed her whenever she was in sight. Somehow, he managed to be at the river each morning when she went for water. He was always nearby when she gathered firewood in the afternoon.

  Just as everyone knew Proud Eagle and Star were courting, they knew that Buffalo Heart and his wife approved the match, and that when Proud Eagle sent someone to speak for him, Star-on-the-Wind’s parents would give them their blessing.

  Proud Eagle took a lot of good-natured teasing from Shadow Hawk and Winona, but it rolled off his back like water from a duck. He was happy, happier than he’d ever been in his life. Two weeks after his courtship began, he went to one of the Buffalo Dreamers for a Big Tw
isted Flute. All flutes were considered Wakan, or holy, and as such they were always crafted by men who had dreamed of the buffalo.

  Big Twisted Flutes however were only effective when accompanied by the music of love which the shaman received in a dream. They were made of cedar wood and carved with the likeness of a horse, the most ardent of all animal lovers. Men placed great faith in the power of these flutes, and in the music of love composed by the Buffalo Dreamer. Some believed that the melody of the flute was so powerful that a girl would leave her lodge to follow the music. Some flutes were believed to have such magic that a man had only to touch a woman with it and she would follow him anywhere.

  But Proud Eagle didn’t want to enchant Star-on-the-Wind, he wanted only to express his love for her. And so on the first snowy night after everyone had gone to bed he went to her lodge and played his flute hoping the soulful notes would tell her of his love and devotion.

  Inside their lodge Maggie rolled closer to Shadow Hawk smiling as she heard the faint trilling song of the flute. It did indeed have a magical sound, she thought, and wished for a moment that she was a Lakota girl and that Shadow Hawk had courted her beneath a big red courting blanket, that he had sat in the snow behind her lodge and poured out his love in the notes of a Big Twisted Flute.

  Shadow Hawk drew Maggie close, his hand caressing her cheek, the curve of her breast, before settling on the slight swell of her belly. He listened to the music of the flute for a moment before he turned on his side and pulled Maggie more fully against him, letting her feel his rising desire as he kissed her eyes, her lips.

  With a soft sigh, Maggie began to caress him in return, her fingertips sliding over his hard-muscled arms and chest, slipping ever so slowly down his thigh. Pleasure washed through her as he groaned softly. It still amazed her that she had the power to arouse him; that their bodies fit together so well.

  His breath was warm as he nuzzled her breasts, his hands gently caressing her hip and thigh, the touch of skin against skin sending shivers of delight along her spine, making her blood flow hotly within her veins.