“I am sorry, Yellow Neck,” he panted, squinting against the pain. “I was just sitting there. I did not follow them deliberately. I was already there when they came.”
“Then you should have left! You have brought yourself much shame, grandson of Blue Hawk. Your grandfather would be very angry with you! The men of the council will be very angry! You have lost much honor this day!”
Cale wanted very much to cry, but he didn’t dare. Nothing would bring him more shame than to go whimpering to the council and begging their pardon. Admitting to what he had done and asking for the proper punishment would be much more honorable. He would take what he had coming to him and hope that somehow he could still be accepted in the village.
Why had he not listened to the wise voices in his heart that told him to leave? What was the strange power that had made him do something so blatantly against the rules of the Cheyenne? How could he have been so stupid? He was surely more angry with himself at this moment than the Cheyenne would be. Somehow he had to make up for this, unless they killed him. His only saving grace might be that he was Blue Hawk’s grandson. And at the moment his first concern was that Yellow Neck would not pull every hair from his head before they reached the village. Standing bald before the council would be even more disgraceful. The only thing to be glad about at the moment was that his grandfather would not be there to witness his shame and disgrace.
The drums beat and Cale waited in the center of the circle of women. The decision had been made. The women would hand out Cale’s punishment, for it was the women who had been offended. Cale knew how vengeful Cheyenne women could be. The loose women of their own tribe were usually badly beaten and banished from the village. And he had seen an Arapaho man, who had forced himself upon a Cheyenne woman, beaten nearly to death by the rest of the women of the tribe.
He could not help wondering where Snowbird might be as the older women circled closer to him, waving their sticks and stones. His loyal friend and Snowbird’s brother, Buffalo Boy, had deliberately stayed away, realizing Cale’s shame would be great enough without his best friend watching the beating. But was Snowbird watching this belittling punishment? He didn’t dare look, for to scan the whole circle of women would make him appear cowardly, as though he might try to run away from what was coming.
Snowbird did watch, but from the shadows where Cale could not see her. Her lips puckered and tears came to her eyes as the women’s sticks came down on Cale. He put his arms around his head to ward off the stones the women threw at him, and Snowbird’s heart hurt for him. She didn’t care that Cale had looked at the women. Buffalo Boy had told her two other boys he knew had done the same thing, but they had not been caught. Surely it was just a part of boys becoming men, and somehow deep inside her innocent body there stirred pleasant flutters at the thought that Cale might even have seen her.
The thought made her face red, for surely she looked puny and childish next to the grown women. She couldn’t quite understand why she even cared what Cale would think. He was just a good friend. But lately her own mother had scowled on Snowbird’s speaking to the boy, and both Cale and Buffalo Boy were gone more than they were around, learning warrior ways, hunting, becoming men much faster than Snowbird was becoming a woman.
She watched Cale bravely take the blows from the women without running or crying out. She was proud of that, proud that before the council he had bravely admitted his guilt and had sworn that after taking his punishment he would prove he was brave and honorable by participating in the Sun Dance. The elders had told him he was too young, but Cale told them he was the grandson of Blue Hawk and eager to prove he carried the same courage and spiritual strength as his grandfather. After all, he wore the blue quill necklace given him by Blue Hawk. He wore it even now as the women, from the very young to the very old, vented their wrath on the young boy.
Snowbird sniffed and rubbed her eyes as the women descended on Cale until she couldn’t see him at all. Finally they walked away from him. He was crouched on his knees, struggling to get up and obviously in a lot of pain. Even by the light of the fire Snowbird could see bruises already appearing. She wanted to run to him but knew she dared not. She watched him finally get to his feet and stumble out of the light of the fire to his horse. As she ran around two tipis to keep him in sight, he rode off into the darkness toward his home in the white world. She wondered if he would keep his promise and come back.
• Chapter Thirteen •
Caleb led the roan mare into the narrow holding pen, and Jess closed the wooden gate behind them. Jess pulled the hot iron shaped in an S from the coals, perched himself on the top of the wall of the pen at the horse’s left side, and quickly shoved the hot iron hard against the horse’s left rump. The animal whinnied and reared, kicking to get away but having no place to go. Jess kept firmly shoving the brand for another few brief seconds, then released it and jumped down, shoving the brand back into the coals.
Caleb opened the front gate and pulled the rope from the animal, whistling and urging it out of the pen and into the corral with other freshly branded horses. Its flesh still smoked, but its pain would soon be forgotten.
“That’s the last one, Caleb.”
Caleb opened another gate and walked out of the corral, turning and looking over the horses. “They look good, but it’s still a small herd, Jess. Then again if we head for California, it’s small enough that we could take most of them along and maybe sell them at one of the forts along the way.”
Jess leaned against the fence and took a pipe and a pouch of tobacco from his pocket.
“Caleb, I’m afraid this isn’t the year to think about California, unless you want to go on ahead and leave me and Lynda behind.”
Caleb turned in surprise to face the man who had been more than a son-in-law. Jess Purnell was also a friend, and without his help survival would have been a lot harder.
“What’s wrong, Jess?”
Jess lit the pipe and puffed it a moment. “Nothing is really wrong. Actually, it’s good news. Lynda is pretty sure she’s pregnant again.”
Caleb’s eyebrows arched and he smiled, leaning against the fence himself and folding his arms. It was a warm day, and he wore no shirt. Jess never failed to be struck by the man’s firm, powerful physique, in spite of his age and the hardships he had suffered.
“Well, congratulations, Jess. This is kind of a mixture of good and bad news. I’m happy as hell for Lynda. I know she’s been wanting another child. But that sure puts an end to plans to head west.”
Jess nodded, puffing the pipe again before speaking. “I’m afraid it does. You know how delicate her pregnancies are—three miscarriages and two difficult births. She wants this baby, and with Cale gone so much, I think it would be good for her. She knows she’s losing Cale, and she knows that if we do leave Colorado she’ll likely be leaving her oldest son behind.”
Caleb sighed, tossing his long hair behind his back when the wind started to blow some into his face. He looked out over the vast plains to the east, and Jess could easily picture the man with his face painted, riding a big horse across those plains.
“Life sure gets complicated when a man has a family,” Caleb commented. He turned back around to face Jess, a sad smile on his face. “Constant decisions. Circumstances keep me here, yet I can’t help worrying about Tom out there in California. All I ever got was that one letter. He sounded so happy. I guess if I hadn’t had that damned dream, that sure feeling that he needed me—”
“I know. It’s always been that way between you two. But you sent that reply months ago. Your messenger should be coming back sometime this summer with word on Tom.”
Caleb leaned against the fence again, looking at the horses. “I just wish I knew what was going on in Sonoma with the war and all. Tom has a knack for getting involved in messes like that.”
“Like his father?”
Caleb grinned and shook his head. “Yes, like his father.” He looked at Jess again. “You’ve been a good husband
and father yourself, Jess. I know this baby means a lot to you, even more to Lynda. And when it’s born it will be important to her to have Sarah with her. I wouldn’t think of leaving without my daughter and her family. We all go together or we don’t go at all. Tom’s a grown man, something that has always been hard for me to get through my thick head. He’ll just have to manage on his own. I just hope he isn’t in some kind of really bad trouble, or wounded.”
“Well, maybe you’ll hear from him yet this summer. And if the birth goes well, next spring we could think about heading west.”
“That all depends on how the winter goes for Sarah, and how the new baby is doing. I won’t jeopardize any member of this family.”
Caleb deliberately checked his disappointment. He wanted to get Sarah to California, sure her health would improve there. But he would not spoil the joy of Lynda’s pregnancy, nor do anything to risk another miscarriage.
“Rider coming,” Jess said.
Caleb looked out across the north ridge to watch a lone rider approach. “It’s Cale. That should make Lynda happy.” Caleb looked at Jess. “Don’t worry about California. Lynda is going to have a baby, and that’s something to celebrate. I’ll try to get Cale to stay here tonight, and we’ll have a big feast.” He reached out and squeezed Jess’s shoulder. “I’m glad for you, Jess. You’ve been loyal to the family, a good husband to Lynda. I know what a stubborn thing she can be sometimes.”
Jess grinned. “No one can say Lynda doesn’t speak her mind.”
Caleb smiled, stepping away to greet Cale as he came closer, but his smile quickly faded when he realized the boy was dirty and badly bruised over his entire body. He slowed when he saw his grandfather, but he did not stop completely. His dark eyes showed shame and turned away as though he couldn’t face Caleb.
“Cale,” Jess spoke up anxiously. “What has happened to you!” The boy rode past them. “Cale! Come back here.”
The boy finally halted his mount, reluctantly turning the animal and trotting it back to the two men. Jess reached up and grasped the bridle. “What the hell happened? Did white men do this?”
Cale’s eyes moved to Caleb’s. “No,” he half mumbled. “It was not white men.” He swallowed, then straightened, obviously struggling not to cry. “I will show them! I will show them I am a man, as good a warrior as any of them!” He turned his horse and rode toward the barn.
“What do you think happened, Caleb?”
“Apparently the Cheyenne did this,” Caleb answered, gazing after his grandson. “You had better go tell Lynda he’s back.” He looked at Jess. “I have a good idea what happened. It’s something to do with Indian custom. Maybe I’m the one who should talk to him.”
Jess nodded. “I’ll go inside and talk to Lynda.”
The two men parted, Jess heading for his own cabin, Caleb heading for the barn.
Cale was angrily removing the bridle, blanket, and gear from his horse. As he slammed the bridle over a hook, he noticed his grandfather approaching. He picked up a currying brush and began brushing down his horse in vigorous strokes.
“You keep brushing him that hard and you’ll brush the hair right off his hide,” Caleb told the boy.
Cale hesitated, then continued with lighter strokes. Caleb stepped closer, leaning against the wall of the stall. “Want to tell me what happened?”
Cale swallowed and blinked. “I might as well. You will just find out some other way that your grandson has disgraced you.”
Caleb subdued a grin, waiting for the boy to go on.
“Women did this,” the boy grumbled. He stopped and threw the brush into a corner. “Women!” He turned and leaned into a corner, looking away from his grandfather.
“Well, the only thing I can think of that they would turn the women loose on you for would be if you offended some young maiden. Who was she?”
The boy didn’t answer right away, and Caleb waited patiently.
“It wasn’t just one. I was sitting alone by the creek when many of them came there to bathe. I knew it was wrong to look, but I couldn’t help it.” He punched at the wall and never did Caleb Sax have to struggle so hard not to laugh out loud. He knew it would be the worst thing he could do to his already greatly disgraced grandson. “That stupid old Yellow Neck caught me and dragged me before the council. They voted to let the women punish me.”
Caleb reached over the wall of the stall and stroked the nose of Cale’s horse. “Cheyenne women can be pretty damned mean when they want to be. I take it they used some nice big sticks on you.”
Cale began toying with a piece of splintered wood, pulling it away from the main board. “Sticks and rocks,” he mumbled.
Caleb moved around to the outside of the corner where the boy stood. “You all right? Nothing is broken, is it?”
The boy continued to hang his head. “I am all right. It is my pride that hurts the most.”
Caleb reached out and touched his shoulder. “I know exactly how you’re feeling, Cale.”
“No, you don’t.” The boy pulled away.
Caleb sighed and moved inside the stall. “Yes, I do, Cale. I wasn’t much older than you when I had to run away from Fort Dearborn where my adoptive white father had been raising me. I was caught in a very embarrassing situation with a white girl. Her father walked in on us, and as soon as he did she started yelling rape. Being Indian, everyone believed it easily enough, but it wasn’t true. At any rate it was either run or get hung.”
The boy turned to face him. “Really?”
Caleb grinned a little. “It was my first experience with a woman. I was too stupid to see through her and realize she would get me in trouble. She wasn’t exactly the innocent type, but I was so struck by how wonderful it was to be with her at all that I didn’t stop to think about her behavior.” He leaned against the wall of the stall. “At any rate, my shame was very great. I felt like the fool of the year.”
Cale sighed, turning away again. “It has only been lately I’ve thought about . . . women. There is one special one—she is only eleven summers now, but she is very beautiful. I didn’t think about her any other way until one night I saw her take off her tunic.” His voice dwindled and he shrugged. “Is it bad to want to look at a woman with nothing on, Grandfather?”
Caleb’s heart ached for his badly bruised grandson. “Of course it isn’t bad, Cale. It just means you’re beginning to experience the emotions of a man instead of a boy. You want to know things—to learn. Who is the little girl?”
Cale leaned against the wall, his back still to Caleb. “Her name is Snowbird. She is Buffalo Boy’s sister. We are good friends, or at least we were until now.”
“If you were good friends before and she is good and true, that won’t change. Your grandmother and I started out the same way, you know. We were childhood friends, like brother and sister. And then the day she was forced to leave Fort Dearborn and go to St. Louis, she cried because she didn’t want to go, and she hugged me. I’ll never forget that moment, Cale. I held her close and smelled her hair, and I felt something I’d never felt before. It made me feel guilty, just like you’re feeling guilty. Now I know it wasn’t a bad feeling—nothing to be ashamed of. And neither should you be ashamed. Do you think you’re the only young Cheyenne man who has been caught taking a peek at the women?”
The boy sighed deeply, turning around but looking at the ground. “It is worse for me because I am not a full blood—and more disgraceful because I am the grandson of Blue Hawk and should be stronger.”
Caleb folded his arms. “Did you own up to what you did and ask for the proper punishment?”
“Yes, sir,” the boy mumbled.
“And did you stand still and take the blows without trying to run?”
The boy raised his eyes finally to meet his grandfather’s. “Yes.”
Caleb nodded. “Then you have made your atonement. For their part it’s forgotten, and you faced it like a man.”
The boy’s eyes teared. “That is not enough.�
��
Caleb frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean—” He searched his grandfather’s eyes. “Are you going to go to California, Grandfather?”
Caleb unfolded his arms, trying to determine what the boy had in mind. “No. You probably don’t know it yet because you’re gone most of the time. But your mother is going to have a baby, Cale. We can’t go this year.”
His eyebrows arched in surprise and the boy grinned. “A baby? That is good. She wants another baby.” He stepped closer. “It is even better than that, because it means you will be home this summer.”
Caleb frowned. “What do you have in mind, Cale?”
The boy straightened proudly. “I want to show them I am a man, not a sneaking coward. I want to take part in the Sun Dance celebration this summer. Can I do it, Grandfather? Will you come and help me? Watch me?”
Caleb sobered completely, stepping closer. “Cale, you’re awfully young for that. Do you understand what will happen to you?”
The boy held his chin proudly. “I understand. I will fast for many days, and then I will be taken to the Sun Dance lodge, where they will put sticks through my flesh with rawhide tied to them. They will pull me up by the skin then, and I will hang there until the sticks tear away from my flesh, and through all the pain and hunger I will grow very weak and have a vision, and I will know what I am to be and know for certain where I belong.”
Caleb felt a stabbing pain at the thought of his grandson suffering. “You know I don’t like leaving your grandmother, Cale.”
The boy’s eyes remained pleading, and Caleb could not help being proud that he wanted to participate in the most trying ritual of the Cheyenne. “You could come right back as soon as it is over. They are going to have the celebration at the South Platte this year instead of going farther north. That is not so far from here, Grandfather. Please say you will let me and that you will come.”
“Only if your mother approves. It makes her very sad to know she will lose you completely to the Cheyenne, Cale.”
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