“What are the boundaries for the Lakota territory, my brother, and what goods did the treaty promise to deliver?”
“From where Cantewakpa ends its journey at Muddy Waters, travel the Mnisose to Skamakawakpa where Fort Pierre Trading Post stands, cross the grasslands and sandhills to where Kampeskawakpa divides itself, take the branch toward the land where the sun goes to sleep and halt at Paha Luta. There, ride toward the land where winter is born and travel beyond the sacred Paha Sapa to where the Cante waters spring to life.”
Chase’s mind quickly translated those boundary sites and markers: along the Heart River to the Missouri, southward on it to the White River, overland to the Platte branch, westward along the North Platte fork to Red Butte, then northward west of the Black Hills to the Heart River mouth.
“We were to be given food, blankets, kettles, hatchets, knives, cloth, cows and horses, and tools to farm in Mother Earth. They did not bring such things to our camps; they told us to come to the fort and to…stand in line for them to be passed out amongst many people, as if we were…beggars. The Red Shields refused such demands; we accept no handouts from the Whites. To others, they give little and they take much. They slay the buffalo as a game or only for its hide. They slay females with calves and leave the young to die without a mother’s nourishment and protection; that practice will prevent the renewal of herds. We find many carcasses rotting beneath the sun, the creature’s life wasted. The stock they give out to others is weak and has little meat on its bones. The flour has tiny creatures in it. The blankets are thin and the cloth tears easily. They refused to give us weapons for hunting, for they feared we would use the firesticks to slay them. They enclose us in a territory where they destroy our food supply and demand we take so-called gifts from them to make us dependent upon them forever.”
“If we make a claim on the farming tools promised in the treaty, my brother,” Chase suggested, “I can teach our people how to plant seeds and grow food in Mother Earth before and after the great buffalo hunt each summer, for I was taught to farm by the Martins. Then, our people would have sufficient food and not become dependent on them. If they refuse, I can dress as a white man and buy tools and seeds at the trading post.”
“We not farmers, Cloud Chaser; we hunters,” War Eagle scoffed.
Chase looked at his younger half-brother when he spoke for the first time. There was a sharp edge to War Eagle’s tone and a chilly glare of insult in his expression. “Can you still be a hunter when the buffalo are gone or there is not enough of them to feed our people during the winter, the cold season?” Chase reasoned in English, having noticed that both of his brothers now spoke the language with great skill. Yet, when one was speaking to him, the other was translating for their father, who sat erect and with an impassive but alert expression.
“If bad sun rises, we hunt and eat deer, antelope, elk, moose, bear, beaver, fish, and many birds. We gather berries, nuts, and plants. Great Spirit is good provider. Red Shields need nothing from White enemy.”
“What of those creatures, War Eagle, when the white man traps them for their skins and many vanish from the streams, forests, and grasslands? Where will enough plants and berries and nuts grow when the white man clears lands for farms and ranches and homesteads? The Indian world has changed forever with the white man’s coming, and you must change with it or perish, for they can never be driven from your land for all time. Though you yearn for the Old Ways, you must learn new ones. The sun will rise when you must trade with the Whites for things you need for survival. Pride will not feed your people in the years ahead, War Eagle. You cannot make enough weapons or fire enough arrows to slay all Whites who enter your lands or cross them, for more will take their places, and soldiers will come to attack you for such deeds. I can help our people learn these new ways, for they were taught to me while I was gone. I can read the Long Meadows Treaty and see where and how you were tricked; I can read a new treaty to be certain it does not happen again.”
“We warriors, Cloud Chaser; we fear, slave to no enemy or force.”
“Even a brave and skilled warrior must know when to fight, War Eagle, and when to make truce or retreat. If your warriors are slain, who will feed and protect your women, children, and old ones? Where is the wisdom in fighting a battle you cannot win?”
“Where honor in not fighting for what ours?” War Eagle argued. “Man cannot live without honor. Lakota must live proud, free.”
“Even if keeping honor and pride means certain destruction?” When Chase realized War Eagle did not grasp his last word, he clarified it, “Even if keeping honor and pride means your death and loss of your land?”
Without hesitation, the young man vowed, “Good warrior do, sacrifice what he must. We not become slaves to Whites. We be free or we die.”
“If our father and people decide to fight, War Eagle, I will fight with them; and I will die with them if that is Wakantanka’s will.” He paused a moment before seeking an answer to a puzzling matter. “Tell me, how and when did my brothers learn the white man’s tongue so well?”
“My wife speaks it and taught us,” Wind Dancer said.
“You’re married now? I mean, you have taken a mate?”
“I joined to a Brule woman from the White Shield band three seasons past when Mother Earth renewed her face; she is called Chumani. We have a son, Tokapa, who is two winters old.”
So, he has a wife named Dewdrops and a son named Firstborn. A married man with a family should want peace for their survival…“That is good, my brother, and I am eager to meet them. What of you, War Eagle?”
“I have no mate. I live in this tepee. I am a Sacred Bow Carrier. My brother is a Strong Heart and Shirt Wearer.”
Chase remembered the two warrior societies, and the Shirt Wearers who carried out the orders of their chief and council, the Big Bellies. He knew the Strong Hearts were comprised of elite and brave warriors who were first to respond to any threat and who took care of those in need. The Sacred Bow Carriers were band leaders during battles and must touch an enemy during each fight, and were last to leave a battlefield, as they were responsible for the safe return of their party members. He noted that his brothers had done exceedingly well for themselves and had earned important and high ranks, for their relationship to Rising Bear had given them no advantage.
Before Chase could ask more personal questions, Wind Dancer said, “You must camp nearby, but away from our tepees, while we learn more about you and test you. You must not enter our camp until you are summoned.”
Chase looked directly at Rising Bear and asked, “Are you ashamed of me, Father? Sorry I was born? Sorry I have returned? Are you worried I will remind everyone of your one weakness long ago? If I was not meant to walk the face of Mother Earth and to return home, the Great Spirit would not have sent me to you twenty-two years ago and again today. I am as much a part of your Life-Circle as you are of mine. How can we deny or prevent what was meant to be before our births? How can we cut out a part of our Life-Circles and survive? Why do you look at me as a stranger when I am of your seed?”
As Rising Bear lowered his head, Wind Dancer grieved over his anguish. “Long ago, Father was forced to believe his eyes would never look upon your face again,” he said. “Now you return amidst grave times and he does not know what to think or believe. You must be patient, Cloud Chaser, while his feelings and thoughts are unclear. It would be painful and reckless of him to take back a lost son who might prove himself to be a fierce enemy. We have only your claim your words are true; we must learn the whole truth for ourselves. Until that sun rises, Father cannot embrace and accept you before others. You must camp nearby and not leave that area without permission. Do you agree to obey those commands?”
Chase realized he had no choice except to concede, though this was far from the happy homecoming he had desired. He no longer knew who and what he was or where he belonged. “I agree. Guide me to my campsite so our father can relax and sort his thoughts.”
Wind
Dancer stood at the same time Chase did and said, “Come.”
Chase took one final glance at his father, but his head was still lowered, as if the older man could not bear to look at him. Then he followed his brother outside, where many people halted their chores to study him again. He felt as if he were being inspected like an animal for sale, and that all were suspicious of his qualities. Would he be able to change their minds and feelings? So far it didn’t appear promising. He was glad they didn’t encounter Two Feathers, as he didn’t want to quarrel with his cousin again today. But they did pass two females, an older one whom he recognized as Winona—whose name meant Firstborn Daughter, and who was the shaman’s child—and a young one whom he assumed was his half-sister Hanmani, whose name meant To Walk in the Night. He realized Hanmani was the woman who had been standing with the enchanting beauty earlier, so he assumed they were friends, but the lovely female wasn’t in sight now; and he found that fact oddly disappointing.
Chase noticed how both women glanced at him, then hurriedly averted their gazes, as if they had been ordered to ignore him. Just as his own mother had reared Wind Dancer during Winona’s two-year captivity, Winona had tended him for a year following his mother’s death from “winter in the chest.” He had often—and still—wondered if his father’s wife hated and resented him for being born of her husband’s mating with their white slave, for the woman had never revealed or spoken of her feelings to him. It was apparent from the births of War Eagle and Hanmani after their reunion that Winona had not rejected Rising Bear for his one night of weakness.
They reached a grassy location near the river. It was shaded by trees and within sight of the village, one which would soon be dismantled so the band could head for the Plains for the buffalo hunt. In fact, if memory served him right, they should have left some time ago. “Why are you still in the winter camp, Wind Dancer?” he asked. “Why are you not on the grasslands?”
“Winter traveled far into the time for Mother Earth’s rebirth season,” he clarified. “The grass and buffalo returned late. We stayed here until She finished Her tasks before we can begin ours. We will leave after the next full moon.”
Chase figured that span of time to be a little less than three weeks. “Maybe I’ll be allowed to hunt with you. If summer’s a short season this year, you could use another hunter to bring in the meat and hides required for next winter. I would enjoy us riding and working together again, like when we were boys. Do you think that’s possible, my brother?”
Wind Dancer looked at Chase. “We will see what happens between this sun and the full moon. Now, remain here. I will send you food and wood, and water is nearby. Your horse will be kept with mine. Your other possessions will be brought to you for your use—all but your weapons.”
“Can I at least have my knife returned in case I need it for protection? A wild animal or an enemy might attack during the night.”
“I will send you the knife for protection. Do not leave this place.”
“I’ll be right here, Wind Dancer, but don’t forget about me,” Chase joked, but his brother did not smile, only nodded before departing. He sat down on a fallen tree trunk and stared into the river’s currents.
Why, Chase scolded himself, had he returned to face rejection and scorn? Hadn’t he endured enough of those unpleasant feelings many years ago? The strange dream had irresistibly summoned him back to the land of his birth. No, he refuted, from the moment his adoptive father had confessed his deception, he had conjured up beautiful images of a loving and happy reunion with his Lakota family; and as time passed, those daydreams had come more frequently and had been light and happy. But he had deluded himself, and reality was grim and dark.
Chase thought about the Martins and his life with them. He had been accepted as their son and had been treated well by their neighbors and friends and others with whom they had come into contact at stores, church, and the small school he had attended. He had liked not being viewed as an outsider. He had liked being loved and accepted. He had called them Mama and Papa. He had hunted, fished, and worked the land with Tom Martin. He had gathered wood and water, laughed, sang, read, and talked with Lucy Martin. In all ways except one—blood—he had been their son for twelve years; and he had grieved over their deaths, despite the false story they had told him years ago. He understood why they had done it and he’d forgiven them. What his heart and mind yearned for now was his own father’s love, respect, and acceptance. Would he ever earn them? He didn’t know. Did he deserve them? Yes, because it wasn’t his fault he had been born of mixed blood!
Yet, had he honestly expected them to welcome him back with open arms? Why shouldn’t they have qualms about his loyalty during future conflicts, questions about his motives for returning, doubts about his identity? After all, he half represented the people and fate they feared and battled most. Perhaps they all needed time to get used to him and to get reacquainted with each other.
Chase sent his warring mind down a different trail. He knew the Nebraska Territory, of which this area was included, had been formed on May 30 and the sites of Omaha and Nebraska City had been founded. More Whites would soon come to this region. America was marking off this huge land of hers from coast to coast, and from Mexico to Canada. The Nebraska Territory was bounded by those of Washington, Oregon, Utah, New Mexico, Kansas, Minnesota, and Iowa, and the country of Canada. How soon, Chase wondered, would it be before this new territory was divided into states like those east and south of there? Each of those measures of “progress” and “expansion” would alter the Indian world forever, and he didn’t know if the Red Shields could survive such actions if they refused to acknowledge and accede to them.
Now that he had lived on both sides of the conflict, he had learned a great deal about each. Oddly, both were alike in some ways: most wanted freedom, land, food, family, joy, respect, and a simple life. Both believed in one Creator of all things, a great flood which cleansed the Earth and gave rebirth to it, and that one should honor one’s family, and obey their people’s laws. Yet, the Indians and Whites had many differences, a major one being the nomadic nature of the Plains Indians in contrast with the Whites’ desire to settle and stay in one place— often in the direct path of the Indians’ wanderings and hunting grounds.
The Dream, Chase’s roaming mind hinted again, the dream which had beckoned him there. It was still as vivid inside his head as the night it had come to him: the beautiful maiden in a white doeskin dress, her dark hair flowing around her shoulders, her deep brown eyes sparkling with love and mischief, her mouth parted in a smile, her arms outstretched, and her musical voice whispering, “Come home, Cloud Chaser. Come home to me and where you belong. You must obey or we will all die. Come, my love.”
Had he been foolish to place so much importance on a mere dream? He was about as wanted here as the cholera plague which had struck three years ago! Rising Bear certainly didn’t want to be reminded of his sin with Margaret Phillips! And neither did his wife and people, which had to include his half-brothers and half-sister. Probably everyone had been glad when his mother had died and when he had vanished, removing all White signs and tainting from their village and their beloved chief!
Don’t do this, Chase! he scolded himself. You came to make peace, to find yourself. Don’t forget these people never mistreated your mother and they didn’t capture her; she was a gift from a Cheyenne chief. Don’t forget she loved your father, loved him as a man, something she kept hidden from everybody except you. And don’t forget Wind Dancer said Father did search for you. But for how long and how hard did you look, my father? Or did you only pretend to search? Did you lie to others and not look at all? Or did you give up too soon and too easily out of relief to have me gone? Am I nothing more than a shameful deed to you, one you want to forget? One you, hoped and prayed the Great Spirit had removed from your life forever? Or do you really love me but are afraid of what others will think if you accept me? Are you only afraid I’m not really your son, or that I’ll betr
ay you out of bitterness? How, when, and where can I find truthful answers to those tormenting questions?
Chase sought to calm himself. He had to keep his head clear and his emotions under control to obtain his objective. Surely there was some important reason why he had been born here, had been taken away, and had been summoned back. But what was it? When would it be revealed to him? What would he be forced to endure before it was? So much had changed here in twelve years. So many Whites had intruded on Indian lands, resulting in so much hatred and violence, which no doubt would worsen as time passed and more settlers and soldiers came. The territory assigned to the Lakotas was a large one, but there were many bands—from the Seven Council Fires of the major tribes—to share it and to live off its offerings for as long as those life-sustaining needs were available. Once those necessities were depleted, the Lakotas would not—could not—hold to their treaty promise or be contained in this area.
From what he had learned, it was evident the Whites didn’t comprehend the Indian way of life, and their demands were contradictory to those customs. The Dakota Nation had conquered the Northern Plains long ago and controlled it with the might of their great number and elite warrior skills. But the white man’s encroachment—which had begun and increased with the fur trade, California goldrush, and Far West settlement and all things which enabled those three realities to continue and expand—had thrust other large Indian Nations closer and into this vast domain; many of those tribes were fierce enemies of the Lakotas, such as the Crow and Pawnee.
Lakota Dawn Page 3
