Dancing Fawn

by Ginger Simpson

  “What’s so special about today?”

  “This is the day we travel back to the mountains where I feel safest. For at least a few months, you and I will not feel pulled between the red and white races. Although moving is much work, our winter camp is well hidden and secure.”

  * * *

  Grace stepped closer then spanned the area with a suspicious glance. “You know,” she whispered, “with all the activity, this would be the perfect time for you to help me escape.”

  “Escape? I can do no such thing.” Green Eyes checked the bindings on the travois secured to her horse.

  “Why not? You know how I feel about the Sioux. All I need is a horse and a head start.”

  Green Eyes turned and crossed her arms. “Where would you go? Do you have family?”

  “No. None of which I know.” Grace hung her head.

  “You would not be safe all alone in the middle of the prairie. Would you even know which direction to take? Could you get to shelter before the snow starts?”

  Grace shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m not even sure where I am.”

  “Perhaps you should think about all of these things before you consider leaving the safety of our tribe. You may not be fond of the people, but is it not better to stay than face certain death?”

  “I suppose you’re right, but the time will come when I will escape. You’ll see.”

  * * *

  “I hate horseback riding. The inside of my legs are rubbed raw.”

  Grace’s constant complaints became annoying. Green Eyes began to think maybe she should have helped her escape.

  “Would you rather walk?”

  “Of course not. Then I’d have blisters on my feet again. Why do we have to move so far away?”

  “I explained already.” Green Eyes struggled to hide her irritation. “Winters on the prairie are unforgiving. There is no respite from the cold. The mountains are freezing, too, but at least our lodges do not scatter like seeds in the wind.”

  “Well, I’m tired.”

  “We are all tired, Grace.”

  “Not the same way. I’m tired of being here...with these…these smelly people. At least with my family, I rode in a wagon and had real food to eat. I’m sick of nothing but that awful leather-like stuff you call pemmican.” She leaned closer. “You could still help me escape. At least now I have a horse.”

  “I already told you I will not be party to helping you die. Surely, you can find something good in all of this. Black Crow has shown no interest in reclaiming you, so you should feel more secure. Does Little Elk treat you fairly?” Green Eyes cocked her head.

  “I suppose.”

  “Then speak to me no more about escaping. Try to think about positive things. Your negativity tires me.”

  Green Eyes kicked her horse and trotted forward and away from the constant whining.

  * * *

  After three days of travel and sleeping outside on the cold, hard ground, the tribe reached their destination. Elated to be back in the mountains, Green eyes dismounted and breathed in the fresh air. Even though the air held a biting sting, and overhead branches blocked the intermittent sunshine, she much preferred dealing with the approaching winter than fearing retaliations between the Indians and the whites.

  Despite continued complaints, Grace fared fairly well on the journey. Perhaps she would gradually accept there was no safe avenue of escape. She hadn’t mentioned leaving since Green Eyes refused to help her. The girl just needed more time to adjust to Lakota ways. Despite believing Grace should have a choice over staying or leaving, living with the tribe had taught Green Eyes that women didn’t have say in matters involving captives, or much else.

  * * *

  With Lone Eagle and her son gone in search of game, Green Eyes strolled through the forest, enjoying the serenity. The fresh smell of pine filled her senses. At the base of a tree, she bent and cleared away the dead grass and spindly needles. She chuckled at her actions. “I guess Rain Woman taught me well. Here I am, looking for herbs to fill the medicine parfleches…but at the wrong time of the year.”

  Finding nothing usable, she straightened, brushed the dirt from her hands, and took another deep breath. She climbed up on a nearby large rock and sat, basking in sporadic warmth. Clouds drifted overhead and played a game of hide and seek with the sun. Soon, snow would cover the ground, but for the moment she relished the mild weather.

  The winter would be hard. The meager amount of salvaged buffalo meat barely made enough pemmican to last the season, and the heavy hides from previous hunts would have to see them through several more winters. Despite discouraging thoughts, this camp was her haven, and the wind, softly moving through the treetops, seemed to be whispering, “Welcome back.”

  * * *

  Chilled, Green Eyes started back to camp.

  Grace stepped into her path. “I’ve been looking for you.” She looked like a totally different person than the one dragged into the prairie camp.

  Her long blonde hair now hung in braids, and a doeskin dress nicely outlined her ripening body. When she walked, the fringe on her knee-high moccasins swayed in rhythm to her gait.

  “You are lovely, Grace. I like your new look…especially your hair.”

  She still claimed hatred for the Lakota, swore she had nothing else to wear and that the braids were a forced on her, but the smile on her face belied her spitefulness. She no sooner finished her tirade that she became pleasant again. What are you doing out here all alone?” she asked.

  “Getting some fresh air and enjoying the beauty of the mountains. Did you need something?”

  Grace shrugged “Little Elk went hunting and said I could visit with you while he was gone.”

  Green Eyes locked her arm through Grace’s. “He has become more trusting of you it seems. He really is a good person, you know?”

  Grace rolled her eyes. “Well, he is better to me than Black Crow. That man was absolutely horrible, and so was his family. I guess if I have to be here, I prefer to belong to Little Elk.”

  The warmth of the sunlight faded behind the pines. Grace shivered and rubbed the goose bumps dotting her bare arms. “I didn’t realize it was so cold out here. Can we go back to your lodge? You can tell me that story you promised.”

  “About?”

  “ How Little Elk’s mother died. Remember?”

  “I do. Come, sitting by a fire sounds good.”

  The warm air inside made Grace drowsy. She stretched out on Green Eyes’ sleeping mat, but her friend’s telling of the tale of Spotted Doe’s demise drew Grace’s full attention. She sat up, hugged her knees, and listened with wide eyes. When the story was finished, Grace’s mouth hung open. Her eyes widened. “She fell to her death?”

  “Yes. Lone Eagle tried to save her but could not reach her in time. Little Elk was only twelve at the time and too young to lose his mother.”

  “I do feel a tiny bit sorry for him. I know firsthand what it feels like to be without your family.”

  Green Eyes nodded. “Maybe that is why he likes having you around. What do you think?”

  “He has changed a lot. At first, he didn’t want anyone around me, and I couldn’t understand why. Remember how he acted the first time you came to see me?”

  “I still cannot figure out why he acted so suspicious of everyone.”

  * * *

  Grace absentmindedly traced a line in the dirt floor. “I think he was afraid Black Crow would decide he wanted me back and believed the less Black Crow saw of me, the better. Little Elk knew how Black Crow and his family abused me. I was hit and kicked constantly, and they yelled things at me I couldn’t understand. His mother beat me with a leather strap, and I did nothing to provoke her.”

  Green Eyes took a deep breath. “Then Little Elk was not the one?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The day at the river when I washed your hair... I saw the marks on your shoulders. I thought Little Elk…”

  Grace shook her h
ead. “No, he has never raised a hand to me.”

  “I am so relieved. I knew, or I hoped, he would never beat a woman. But, I still cannot believe he was even involved in taking you captive.”

  “When he’s around Black Crow, Little Elk is a different person—almost like he’s afraid. Black Crow is the one who really killed my family. My father managed to get off one shot before he killed him. He probably would have murdered me, too, if Little Elk hadn’t suggested taking me captive.” Her face softened. “In a way, I guess I owe him my life.”

  “I am very happy you were given to him, in fact, you should be thankful you were captured by this tribe.”

  Grace glared at her. “Why in the world would I be thankful? To be a prisoner, a slave?”

  “That is not exactly what I meant. You probably would not have fared as well elsewhere. Lone Eagle’s father, Broken Feather, was a peaceful man and raised his son to be the same. As long as Lone Eagle is Chief, you will never be mistreated again. True, he had no say in whether Black Crow kept you or not, but had he known of your abuse, he would have put a stop to it.”

  Grace lowered her eyes. “I hadn’t thought about that. I’ve been too busy hating, and I’m tired of being such a spiteful person. I’m very thankful you were here for me. I don’t know what I would have done otherwise.”

  “If I have helped you in any way, then I am glad,” Green Eyes patted her hand.

  The light inside the lodge grew dim, and Green Eyes uncoiled her legs, stood, and stretched her arms over head. “Our time for visiting must end, Grace. We have talked for quite a while, but Lone Eagle and my son will soon be home and wanting to eat.”

  She bent and added a new log to the fire.

  Grace stood and flicked a bit of dirt from her fingertip, then covered her mouth to hide a yawn. “I guess I should be going. Little Elk snared a rabbit yesterday, and I’m going to try my hand at making soup.”

  Green Eyes giggled as she held the flap open for Grace.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You just reminded me of a very amusing story. One day remind me to tell you about the first time I served soup to Lone Eagle.”

  “I will remind you. I enjoy your stories so much.” Grace ducked out and hurried across the campground.

  Green Eyes paused in the doorway to enjoy the colorful beauty of the descending sun. She inhaled deeply of the scented pines mixed with the wafting aromas of dinners cooking throughout the village. Still laughing at the memory of how horrible her first soup had been, she closed the flap and turned to prepare dinner.

  Chapter Eight

  Grace hunkered next to the fire ring and stirred the bubbling pot. The blended aroma of rabbit and herbs wafted up and made her stomach rumble. When Little Elk ducked under the lodge flap, he took a deep breath. He smiled and dropped cross-legged onto his mat and leaned against his willow-backrest. “Ah, something smells good.”

  “It’s stew. I’m not very practiced at cooking, so I hope it tastes good,” she said.

  He sniffed the air. “Well, if your soup tastes half as good as it smells, I will be happy.”

  “I’m not making any promises.” She handed him a bowl.

  Little Elk sipped the hot mixture. Grace watched and waited for his reaction. When he shoved a second bite into his mouth, she released her pent up breath. “How does it taste?”

  After several more bites, he glanced up and handed her an empty bowl. “Very good. More please.”

  A spreading smile replaced the tenseness of her jaw. “I’m pleased you like my stew.”

  Despite the turmoil that threw them together, she repressed her anger, and enjoyed the comfortable moment between them. Little Elk possessed a gentle side and treated her with respect and kindness...as long as Black Crow wasn’t around. Grace hid her feelings for her current captor behind an emotionless face, ladled more stew into his bowl and handed it back.

  “I will be happy,” he mumbled, between bites, “to make sure you get more practice cooking dinner.”

  Grace didn’t let on that she heard and hid her pleasure behind a stoic demeanor. She ladled a bowl for herself and sat quietly next to him and ate her own dinner. She agreed—the stew did taste good. A good blend of meat, turnips, and herbs that danced on her tongue.

  Little Elk finished his second bowl and set it aside. He patted his stomach then reached for the wooden circle he’d fashioned from willow. Her gaze fixed on his hands, she watched as he wrapped horsehair around and around the hoop until he covered it completely. Then he fastened it securely with a piece of sinew.

  She watched him work. “What are you making?”

  “A dream catcher.”

  “What is that?”

  He picked up feathers and wove them through the horsehair. “Long ago, Iktomi, a teacher of wisdom, appeared in the form of a spider to a spiritual leader of our people and spoke in a sacred language understood only by a holy person.” Little Elk told a story as he worked. “As the leader talked about the cycle of life, Iktomi took the holy man’s willow hoop and began to spin a web. From the willow’s outside to the inside, he wove his tale of life into a perfect circle, leaving a hole in the center.”

  Little Elk laid the dream catcher aside and stretched his arms over his head.

  Grace, sitting with bent knees supporting her elbows, rested her face in her palms and listened intently. “Go on. What did Iktomi say?”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “Iktomi told the elder there will be many dreams in life—some good, some bad. If you heed the good dreams, you will be steered in the right direction. The bad ones will lead you astray. From dreams come ideas and visions. He gave the willow web to the elder and told him to use it to guide his people.”

  “How?”

  Little Elk smiled. “I am pleased at your interest.”

  “What did Iktomi mean?” She pressed Little Elk to continue.

  “The web of life sifts our dreams. If you believe in the Great Spirit, Wakan Takan, the web will catch only good ones, and the bad ones will go through the hole.”

  “Oh! What a beautiful story.” She clapped her hands.

  “I hope to share many with you in the days to come.”

  Wavering beneath his intense gaze, Grace stood and cleaned the remnants of dinner while Little Elk resumed work on his project. Curious, she pointed to the dream catcher he held. “What will you do with this one when you finish?”

  * * *

  He glanced up at her, the fire reflecting in his ebony eyes. “I will hang it above your bed to capture only your good dreams.”

  * * *

  The morning sun filtered through the tall pines and etched their outline on the lodge walls. Still in bed, Grace watched the silhouetted trees sway in the morning breeze. Cold air crept along the floor, chilling the interior of the lodge. She pulled her covers tighter, wishing the fire would blossom on its own. On the other side of the stone ring, Little Elk’s even breathing sounds indicated he still slept. Grace rolled to her side and studied his handsome profile. He slept on his back with one arm above his head and the other resting on his stomach. His blanket had slipped to his waist, revealing his smooth, sun-kissed chest and flat stomach. His abdomen rose slightly with each inhalation. She had seen her brother without a shirt before, but this was different. Little Elk had not one hair on his body.

  Rolling back to her original position, she willed the butterflies in her stomach to go away. She couldn’t develop an attraction for her captor—she just couldn’t. Why was her body reacting this way?

  Little Elk didn’t move. Soft snores now fluttered his perfect lips. Grace sat and pulled on her moccasins. Stretching over the fire, she stirred the few flickering embers among the ashes and added more wood. She stood and donned the rabbit-skin coat Green Eyes had gifted her then ducked out into the nippy air.

  * * *

  Little Elk woke to the distant sounds of children laughing somewhere in camp. He stretched both hands over his head and glanced to the mat where
Grace normally slept. She wasn’t there. His heart thudding, he sat, pushed aside his covers, and rose. He was just preparing to search for her when she came through the door with fresh water.

  “Good morning. I got up before you for a change.” She hung the full buffalo bladder on the corner of the drying rack and took off her jacket. Combing her fingers through her hair, she slicked back the wayward blonde wisps that had worked lose from her braids. “I planned to wake you when I had the corn cakes ready.”

  He ran a hand through his own long locks. “I do not know why I slept so long. I should have been up with the sun. Did you put a sleeping herb in my stew?” He smiled.

  “I wouldn’t know one herb from another. Besides, you said you liked the dinner I prepared.”

  “I did. It was very good—so good, I was about to get my bow and hunt for another rabbit.” Waiting for a reaction to his compliment, he bent to feed another log to the waning fire.

  “I guess you really did like it. I’m pleased.” Her usual stoic mood faded, and a wide smile spread across her face.

  Little Elk straightened and realized they stood nose to nose. The eyes he peered into seemed softer than he recalled. Their pale blue reminded him of the crisp water in the lake just above the camp. He refused to let the white woman mesmerize him and jerked his gaze away.

  “I am ready to eat,” he said, breaking the awkward silence.

  Grace handed him a piece of pemmican. “Chew on this until the corn cakes are ready.”

  He dropped to his mat, bit off a huge hunk, and chewed vigorously. He swallowed hard. “I already grow tired of dried buffalo meat. How I wish for fresh berries.”