* * *
As predicted, Fawn was truly with child. The morning sickness was gone, there had been no visits to the women’s hut, and her stomach protruded ever so slightly as her baby grew. Too hurried to heat the water, she washed her face with cold. She had chores to finish and people who expected her.
She still tracked the months on the dirt floor of the lodge. January and February had come and gone, and the winter snow ceased with the beginning of March. Splotches of white dotted the ground here and there, but the deep drifts had melted away. The warmer weather caused fervor among the tribe, and the trek back to the prairie was already scheduled. She welcomed the sunlight peeking through the smoke opening but wasn’t sure she appreciated the idea of moving again.
Confinement during the cold months had given her time to make more friends. Along with learning about Sioux customs, she also listened to continuing talks of war. She caressed her belly and sighed. No one wanted to bring a child into a world laced with prejudice and hatred, but her child would be viewed that way by her own race. Would the Lakota even accept her child? Her only salvation from worrying was listening to Rain Woman’s captivating tales of legend and lore, so with her chores finished, Fawn crossed the compound toward the old woman’s lodge for more stories and a special occasion.
Today, the women gathered to celebrate the first moon time of a young Lakota woman. As Grace, the topic was never discussed publicly, let alone revered. A woman’s menstrual cycle was just one of many female things considered unmentionable. Fawn was excited to join in the tribal observance held in the girl’s honor.
In Rain Woman’s lodge, the festivities began with the saga of Buffalo Calf Woman. The old grandmother loved to share stories, and her aged eyes sparkled as the women leaned closer to listen. Fawn inched to the front and sat. She didn’t want to miss a word.
The wizened old grandmother, already seated, waited for a hush to fall. The room turned silent. “Two warriors hunted buffalo in the sacred Black Hills,” she began. “They saw something coming toward them that turned out to be a white buffalo calf. As the animal came closer, it transformed into a beautiful, young Indian maiden. Bad thoughts filled the mind of one of the warriors, so the young girl told him to step forward. When He did, a black cloud formed over his body, and when the dark mist dissipated, the warrior was left with no flesh and blood—only bones.”
For Fawns benefit, Rain Woman signed as she spoke, and when she drew an imaginary circle in the air, Fawn assumed it symbolized a cloud. She still had so much to learn…language, customs, and rituals. Still, from the words and hand motions Little Elk had taught her she understood bits and pieces enough to enjoy the tale.
“Frightened,” the old woman’s voice drew her attention back, “the other warrior dropped to his knees and began to pray. Seeing this, the young Indian woman told him to rise, return to his people, and tell them that in four days she would bring forth a sacred bundle and present it to them. The warrior returned to his tribe and gathered together his people. As they sat in the circle, the warrior delivered the message as he’d been told.”
Fawn hugged her knees to her chest and sat mesmerized. Rain Woman flashed a toothless grin at her and raised her boney arms over her head, preparing to accompany her words with sign language again.
“Just as the Indian maiden had promised, on the fourth day a white cloud floated down from the sky, and off stepped a white buffalo calf. Before the people’s eyes, the calf again transformed into the beautiful young woman the warrior had described. In her hand she carried the bundle. She walked into the circle of people and began to sing a sacred song.”
Rain Woman’s gaze drifted to Fawn. “Do you like my story?”
She bobbed a nod. “Oh yes, please continue.”
The withered one took a breath. “After another four days, the young woman had taught the people the meaning of the bundle and the seven sacred ceremonies: purification, naming, healing, adoption, marriage, vision quest, and the sun dance. Departing in the same manner in which she arrived, she left behind the sacred bundle containing the White Buffalo Calf pipe, but she vowed one day to return for it. She told the people to look for the birth of a white buffalo calf. It would signify her return to once again restore harmony to the earth.”
Fawn’s Lakota vocabulary increased every day and she understood the story’s meaning. The legend lent testimony to her new people, and she now knew why Green Eyes had developed such an attraction for the withered old grandmother. Although Rain Woman’s bones sounded brittle, and her mouth lacked a full set of teeth, her energy matched that of a child when she shared a tale.
While others chattered about the story and the upcoming move, Fawn’s mind strayed. Her memories of the prairie were not good ones. The death of her family and the recollections of Black Crow’s evil face overshadowed any thoughts of return. It wasn’t until the tribe moved to the mountains that she accepted her fate and learned that the Sioux were really no different from other people—just a different culture and way of life.
Rain Woman stuck her face in front of Fawn’s. “I said, of what do you dream?” She smelled of mint.
Fawn’s cheeks heated. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you.”
“Your mind is in another place, yes?”
Fawn nodded. “I was thinking about our move to the prairie.”
“I see worry in your face.”
“I am frightened. Learning to live with the people has taken time, and I feel accepted and happy. Now I carry a child that will be considered a half-breed and hated by my own people. I don’t want my life to change again. I like it the way it is right now.”
The old woman stroked her wrinkled chin. “It is true. People of your skin have great hatred in their hearts for the Lakota...for all Indian people…and you for having lived among us. There is nothing we can do to change that, but maybe your child will grow up knowing we are all made by the same creator and someday make others see us through more accepting eyes.”
“I hope you are right, Grandmother. I hope you are right.”
Chapter Fourteen
Fawn opened her eyes and stretched. Stiff from sleeping curled on her side, she straightened her legs and groaned. Today was the dreaded day of the move and the last thing she wanted to do. She rocked herself into a sitting position.
Little Elk knelt next to the fire ring and added kindling to spark a flame.
“Are you so eager to travel that you rose early?” Unintended sarcasm tinged her question.
“It is a good day for a move.” He stood and raised his hands over his head in a sweeping gesture. “The sun shines, and the sky is the color of your eyes.”
“It’s easy for you to be excited. You don’t have to take down the tepee or load the horses.” She thinned her lips.
“That is woman’s work,” he said with authority. “It would not be fitting for a warrior such as me to be seen doing such menial tasks.”
“Menial tasks?” she mocked, and then threw a parfleche at him.
He ducked. “I do not mean what I say. I know your work is hard, especially now that you carry my child.”
She rubbed her stomach. “Our child. This baby is part of me, too, you know.”
“Yes, it is our child, but you should get busy before I offer to sell you to the brave who offers the most ponies.” He laughed.
Fawn scrambled from beneath the covers and pulled on her moccasins. “All right, I’m up. I suppose you’re hungry? It seems you always are.” She had no control of her mood and the day ad only started.
Feeling sorry for Little Elk and the day to come, she prepared the morning meal.
* * *
With the help of Little Elk, Fawn finished tying the last of their belongings to a second of his horses. Trying to soothe a persistent aching, she pressed against the small of her back. A stray wisp of hair adhered to her lip. She brushed it away and turned to him. “Thank goodness that’s done. I’m thankful we don’t have anything else we need to take.”
“I thought your horses were.” She rolled her eyes.
“Only when we are on flat land. I do not look forward to getting them down the mountain. Each year the journey gets harder as our herd continues to grow.”
“How many horses do you have?” Fawn tried to temper her words.
“Ten, but the tribe has more than a hundred.”
She sat on a nearby log and played with a blade of newly sprouted grass. “Really? Where did you get ten horses?”
“Mostly from raids.” He grabbed the lead rope of the black horse. “But a few, like this one, I caught and tamed myself.” He patted the flat spot between the animal’s eyes.
Fawn cast a wary gaze at him. “Not long ago, you said something about trading me for ponies. Is that really where you got your horses? Getting rid of other women?” So much for being mellow.
He laughed despite the blazing stare she aimed at him. “No! One does not get horses for declaring he is done with his woman. It is customary to give them to the father of one’s intended wife.”
“Oh, I see. So you actually buy your women.” What was wrong with her? Was she being awful only because of an unwelcome trip?
“We do not give horses for that purpose. A brave presents horses to the father of the woman with whom he wishes to join to show he is capable of taking good care of her—that he will be a good provider.” He averted his gaze and splayed his fingers through the stallion’s mane. “I would have given all ten horses to your father if I could.”
His declaration plucked at her heart and she mellowed. Deep down she had hoped he had strong feelings for her, but to imagine he would give his total lot of horses just to make her his own was far more than she hoped for. She resisted the urge to fling herself into his arms, instead kept a suitable distance to avoid embarrassing him. She rose and stood next to him. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Thank you.”
The silence became awkward. She felt it; most likely he did, too. They still hadn’t mastered being comfortable with praise from one another. Luckily, the tribe started assembling for the journey. He noticed and squared his shoulders. “It is time to leave. We had better join the others.”
“Can I have one minute, please.”
He nodded.
Fawn walked a few feet away and took one last sweeping look at their winter camp. “Goodbye, beautiful mountains,” she muttered too low to be heard. “Thank you for your safe haven. I pray I’ll be back again but with a happy, healthy child.” She crossed back to where he waited and took a deep breath. “I’m ready now.”
Little Elk helped her mount then led her horse to where the others gathered. Positioning her animal next to those of Green Eyes and Little Cloud, he handed the lead rope to her.
“I’ll ride with the herd. If you need anything, ask Little Cloud to come find me.” He patted her hand. “Be careful, and take care of the child.”
She smiled down at him. “I will.”
At the head of the line, Lone Eagle commanded his people to move. She nudged her mount in the sides, following the others; the pack animal plodded along behind. Fawn took one last glance at the smoldering campfires—the only evidence that a tribe had once camped in the clearing.
* * *
So far, the steep trip down the mountain provided uneventful, though tiring. The tribe had ridden in single file, down the most treacherous part of the trail, for hours. Fawn had fingernail impressions in the palm of her hand from gripping the reins. Her every muscle throbbed from the constant jarring of being on horseback.
Her family had been too poor to own horses other than the wagon team, so riding astride was foreign to her, and she doubted she would ever develop a fondness for being a horsewoman. The trip to winter camp had been tiring enough, but now in her condition, the trek down proved even more exhausting. Being with child altered her thoughts, heightened her emotions, and sank her energy level. When they made camp, she planned a welcome respite from riding for so long. At least, work out some kinks.
Tonight, they would sleep on the prairie. Waving below, a sea of green grass welcomed them back to flat land. Fawn fought the scary thoughts running through her mind. What if they met a wagon train or encountered soldiers? Would she be punished or killed for living among Indians? She’d overheard talk about how white woman had been ruined by being among savages and not welcome to return home. In her case, guilty but definitely not ruined.
She rubbed her expanding belly and vowed to stay with her baby’s father, no matter what happened. Since coming to live with the Lakota, she had learned there were bad apples in every bunch. Judging the entire tribe by the actions of a few wouldn’t be fair. These people were her only family now. Only her heart could tell her where she belonged.
On level ground again, she relaxed her grip on the reins, and the blood flowed back into her fingertips with a tingling sensation. Her body moved in sync with the steady gait of her mount. After riding in the shadow of the mountain for most of the day, the sun provided a welcome relief, bathing her in warmth. She raised her face to the sky and breathed in the sweet smell of spring’s dewy grass.
Before her lay a portrait painted by Mother Nature—blue skies, a vast expanse soaked in emerald green, and a myriad of colorful flowers in bloom. No wonder the Lakota so cherished the land. “I’m going to teach you to love the earth just as your father and his people do,” she whispered to her stomach.
Her love of the landscape faded as the hours passed. The band elected to keep riding rather than stopping for noontime fare, and Fawn munched on a piece of pemmican to quiet her growling stomach. She looked back to see Little Elk riding amidst the herd. The sight of him sitting straight as an arrow with his ebony hair fluttering in the light breeze warmed her heart and made her feel safe…at least for the moment.
To pass time, she counted the number of animals skittering from the tall grass to escape the horses’ hooves, but soon grew bored. She looked forward just in time to see Lone Eagle hold up a halting hand. The band stopped in a welcoming spot next to the river, and Fawn couldn’t contain her glee. She slid to the ground.
“We’re home. We’re finally home,” she chanted while clapping her hands.
Green Eyes chuckled at Fawn’s childish antics. “Yes, we are home, and I can tell you are very glad.”
Fawn rubbed her sore behind. “You have no idea.”
They shared a quick laugh, but there was no time to rest. Only time to explore the new campsite and decide where to erect Little Elk’s lodge. Better, he should decide, but he still worked to settle the herd. A wealth of tall grass grew alongside the new campground, providing fodder for the horses, and already some grazed hungrily. Tales of the Crow, well known for stealing Lakota horses, abounded, so keeping the animals nearby provided much needed security. Truly, the harsh winter had left the prairie abundant with food and game. While she waited for Little Elk, she found a stump near the river and sat to ponder her future.
* * *
“Why did Lone Eagle pick this place for camp?” Fawn asked, as she held a lodge pole in place for Green Eyes.
* * *
“Because the land is not as flat and open as our previous prairie home. With all the talk of war, he is being even more cautious than usual.” Green Eyes gestured to the terrain. “The natural elevation of the surrounding land makes us less visible to those passing by, and that stand of trees along the riverbank provides sheltering shade.”
“I like it here,” Fawn said. “We can do our laundry beneath the trees and bathe in privacy in the cove downstream.”
Green Eyes craned her neck and peeked around the canvas at Fawn. “Still modest, I see.”
“Even more so now that my belly is growing.” Her stomach picked that moment to rumble. “I’m starved, and I’m sure Little Elk must be, too
. He’s already killed a nice fat prairie hen, and although I hate plucking feathers, my mouth waters for the taste of roasted meat. Anything besides pemmican. So since you no longer need me to finish, I will say goodnight, or Hanhepi waste.”
Her friend smiled. “Your Lakota gets better every day, and having you around has certainly helped renew my English. Hanhepi waste, little mother, and thank you for your help.”
Fawn crossed the new compound to the site Little Elk had selected for their new home. Smoke and pleasant cooking smells filled the air as some tribal members had already set their evening fires and prepared their dinner.
* * *
The delicious aroma of roasted hen lingered inside Little Elk’s lodge. He leaned back and relaxed after a hearty dinner. “My stomach smiles,” he said. “It is good to eat something other than dried buffalo meat, and even better to be home again.”
Fawn nodded as she dried the last of the dinner utensils. “I was just glad to get off that darned horse. My backside is still numb.”
“So will you stand forever?”
“No, silly.” She came and settled next to him. “I needed to finish my chores, so I can say I am finished with this day. I cannot recall ever being this tired.”
“There is something we need to discuss.” His demeanor turned serious.
Her heart pounded. “I’m listening.”
“I have been thinking the time has come for me to proclaim to all that you are my wife.”
She closed her gaping mouth. “Really?”
“It is true. What are your thoughts?”
Dancing Fawn Page 11
