CHAPTER

19

The four of us could have been invisible for all the attention the Cheyenne paid us as we walked into the village. Children ran in and around the tipis playing chase. Dogs yapped and nipped at their heels before rushing off to scrounge for food. The bottom half of the buffalo hides covering the tipis were folded up to take advantage of the evening breeze. In one men sat around a fire passing a long pipe. In another, women talked and laughed. A young brave talked to a young woman who demurely looked at anything but him. Nearby, a young man played a wooden flute quite beautifully while a girl was teased and encouraged by her friends between her quick glances at the brave, to make sure he played for her.

The drums we’d heard earlier accompanied a group of men and women playing various instruments—rattles, hand drums, flutes, and something like a small guitar—while men and women of all ages danced. We stopped and watched them. Running Brook stopped next to us and watched.

I chuckled. “It looks like they’re dancing a reel.”

“Doesn’t look like the penny dreadfuls describe, does it?” Henry Pope said.

The dancing fire flickered shadows on Pope’s face. “I’ve never read one.”

“Very entertaining. I suppose you were too busy with medical journals to read for pleasure.”

I thought of all the nights I’d spent in the basement room with a resurrection man, dissecting cadavers to improve my surgical skills. I flexed my injured hand. “Something of the sort.”

“I’ve read them,” Kindle said. “They’re all a load of shit written by men who’ve never stepped foot past the Mississippi. Possibly the Potomac.”

“You read?” Pope said.

Kindle growled, though with the commotion around us, I don’t think Pope heard him. But Pope saw Kindle’s expression and grinned. “I figured there were other entertainments you enjoyed more.”

Standing between the men it was difficult to know where to look, or to be sure the expression I saw was the true reaction to whatever barb they were throwing at each other. I realized they knew each other better than I’d assumed, or than Kindle had ever implied.

“Henry,” I said, “we heard there was a Pinkerton in Jacksboro looking for me. What can you tell us about him?”

“He’s a big mick who’s more shrewd than intelligent. He was in town the night you escaped, but he decided to go sporting instead of doing his job.”

“We know that much. Did he go back to New York or is he on our trail?” Kindle said. Kindle spoke to us, but his eyes roamed over the Indians surrounding us, as if searching for someone. Or was he on edge, watching to make sure we wouldn’t be attacked? I glanced around. Impossible. These people were socializing as if it was market day in town, or a Sunday-afternoon church potluck. Violence was the last thing on their minds.

“He was heading to Fort Worth, but I doubt he was heading back East. You made him look a fool by escaping under his nose.”

Kindle lost interest in Pope’s story and was staring at Tall Buffalo watching us from the other side of the dancers. He leaned to his left and spoke to Bob Johnson, who stood and walked around the dancers to the three of us.

“Tall Buffalo wants to welcome you.”

We moved forward. Bob Johnson held his hand out to me. “Only the men.”

“Am I to stand here by myself?”

Bob Johnson smiled condescendingly at me. “Aénhé’ke is in Falling Stars Woman’s tent. Through there.” He pointed at the semicircle of tents downriver. “Running Brook will take you.”

Kindle pulled me away from Bob Johnson and said, “It’s fine.”

“What if he recognizes you?”

Pope came nearer, his broad back shielding me and Kindle from Bob Johnson, giving us a little more privacy, though we continued to talk low.

“Why would he recognize you?” Pope said.

Kindle rubbed his beard. “He won’t. I can play a part as well as you can, Laura. Go find Aénhé’ke.”

“How can you tell her to go off by herself with a bunch of Indians, after what she went through?” Pope said, stepping toward Kindle.

Kindle straightened and narrowed his visible eye. “She saved Aénhé’ke’s life. There’s a debt there that will keep Laura safe.”

“Are you okay with this, Laura? Do you want me to stay with you?”

I wasn’t sure if Pope had completely forgiven me for Cotter Black’s attack, but if he was brave enough to challenge Kindle about my safety I couldn’t see him handing me over to the Pinkertons and a date with a noose. I put my hand on Pope’s arm and smiled. “You’re so generous to offer, Henry. You go get your story. Aénhé’ke won’t hurt me.”

Reluctantly, Pope left me and walked to the circle of elders with Kindle and Bob Johnson.

Running Brook pulled on my hand. “One minute.” Tall Buffalo spoke for a few moments, lifted the pipe he held above his head, tapped the bowl on the ground, then moved it to the left, then the right before smoking. He passed it and the man to his left did the same, all the way around the circle to Kindle, who mimicked their actions. I relaxed, slightly. Somewhere in my memory was the knowledge smoking a pipe together was a sign of friendship. Where I knew it from, I had no idea.

I let Running Brook pull me along to Falling Stars Woman’s tent. The bottom half was folded up and the women inside played a heated game involving sticks and flat dice made of what looked like bone. The sticks were laid on the ground in a pile, obviously their ante, and a woman shook a basket and tossed the dice into the air, catching them in the basket. The women leaned forward to count the faces. Half of the group groaned and half cheered. I smiled. The details of the game were different, but the highs and lows of gambling were the same the world over, it seemed.

Aénhé’ke glanced up from the game and noticed me. She rose to the objections of her opponents, who saw me for the first time as well. Aénhé’ke’s eyes were still slightly swollen from her time with the whisky traders, but they were sparkling with good humor and happiness. I marveled at how she seemed to have put her ordeal completely behind her in less than a week.

“I wondered if you were coming,” Aénhé’ke said.

“We were watching the dancers.” I turned in the direction from which I had come.

“Where is your husband?”

“With Tall Buffalo. Did you see the allotment arrive?”

Falling Stars Woman nodded. “Mr. Darlington sent a message it will be distributed tomorrow afternoon. We will leave the next morning for our winter camp.”

“Winter? It’s hard to think of winter when it is so hot.”

“Come,” Falling Stars Woman said. “Eat.”

Though I wasn’t hungry I followed them into the tent. The gambling sticks were picked up and I was led to the same spot I’d sat in earlier in the day. The other women worked together until everyone was seated around the fire, the pot of meat in front of Falling Stars Woman. She removed a chunk of meat, cut it into five pieces, and lifted them to the sky, lowered them toward the ground, then pointed them east and west. Aénhé’ke sat next to me and explained. “She is honoring the spirits.”

Falling Stars Woman ladled stewed meat onto a tin plate and handed it to me. I picked up the meat with my fingers and ate it, wondering all the while what type of meat it was but too afraid of offending to ask. It was slightly gristly, but the flavor was surprisingly good. It was better than rattlesnake, at any rate.

I smiled and nodded. “Very good, thank you.”

Falling Stars Woman served the other women and we ate in silence for a few minutes. I never did well with silence so I asked the question that had been lingering in the back of my mind for a few days.

“When I burned my arm,” I said, lifting the bandaged limb for everyone to see, “Aénhé’ke boiled a thistle tea to doctor it. How did you learn of its healing powers?”

The women around the circle seemed to relax, as if settling down to hear a long, well-loved story. The children inched closer to the tipi, but did not enter. When the rustling had quieted, Falling Stars Woman began.

“Many years ago, a baby was found by an old woman, in a wickiup amid the sweet roots that make mother’s milk flow. She named him Sweet Medicine and took him in and raised him as her own, for she didn’t have children. He grew faster and learned quicker than the other children. When he was young there was a drought and the People were starving. He told his grandmother to find an old buffalo robe, the dirtiest, rattiest one she could find, and bring it to him. She did, and he instructed her to wash it in the river and scrape it clean. When she returned, Sweet Medicine cut the hide into one long strip, fashioned a hoop, and wove the hide in and out of the circle, making a net. He took four sticks, whittled them into points, and hardened them in the fire. Then he told his grandmother to follow him outside to play the hoop-and-stick game.”

There was something soothing, mesmerizing, about Falling Stars Woman’s voice. It was as if I were in a trance, as if I could see the events she recited happening before me, like a play on a stage. The hoop and sticks she mentioned were suddenly in her hand, and she brandished them to the crowd, but without the showmanship of a carnival barker. Instead, with a reverence usually reserved for a religious ceremony.

“Sweet Medicine ordered his grandmother to roll the hoop while he threw the pointed sticks into the center, hitting the same spot every time. Then he said, ‘Let me hit it one more time and turn it into a buffalo calf.’ Sweet Medicine threw the stick and a calf appeared, collapsed on its side, the stick in its heart. Sweet Medicine gave the calf to the People, telling them to eat, and no matter how much meat they cut from the calf, they did not pick it clean.

“On Sweet Medicine’s first buffalo hunt, he killed a yellow buffalo calf. Since he had no father or grandfather to celebrate the event, he cleaned the calf himself. A chief who wanted the hide demanded Sweet Medicine give it to him. Sweet Medicine offered the man half of the calf’s meat because he revered his elders, but did not want to part with the skin. The chief was angry and tried to take the skin. Sweet Medicine took a leg bone and hit the chief over the head, killing him, and angering the rest of the tribe. Sweet Medicine fled for his life.

“The tribe searched and searched for Sweet Medicine and every time they saw him, and thought they were near to catching him, he was always just out of their reach. Finally, exhausted, the People gave up searching for him.

“Sweet Medicine wandered for years, until he came upon a mountain shaped like a tipi. He entered into a cave and found what looked like men and women, but were really spirits. They welcomed him and told him they’d been waiting for him.”

Falling Stars Woman held up four arrows. “The spirits gave him four arrows; two for war, two for hunting, and explained to him the great powers they contained and the rules by which the People ought to live.”

I leaned over to Aénhé’ke and whispered, “Are those the arrows?”

“No. The arrows are protected by a special chief.”

“The spirits taught Sweet Medicine how to renew the arrows, the wise laws of the forty-four chiefs, how women should be honored, and many things so the People could survive and prosper.” Falling Stars Woman looked at me. “Including how to use plants, berries, and roots, and how to pray to the spirits to cure sickness.

“When Sweet Medicine returned to the People he found four boys playing with buffalo figures outside the village. Their ribs were sticking out, for they were starving. He turned the stick figures into buffalo meat and told the boys to fill their bellies, and there would be enough for their parents and grandparents as well. He ordered them to have two hunters come to him the next morning. The hunters went to find Sweet Medicine three mornings in a row and did not find him. On the fourth morning, Sweet Medicine stood on top of a hill and told the warriors to have the People build a great lodge and to cover the floor with sage and sweetgrass. Everyone must wait for him in the lodge; no one must see him approaching.

“They did as they were told and Sweet Medicine approached the lodge, calling out four times, People of the Cheyenne, with a great power I am approaching. Be joyful. The sacred arrows I am bringing. All night long, Sweet Medicine smoked a deer-bone pipe and taught the People what the spirits had taught him. When they emerged from the tents the next morning, the plains were filled with buffalo.

“Four lives the spirits gave Sweet Medicine, but he was no immortal. Before he died, he told the People of a vision of light-skinned bearded men with sticks that spit fire who will invade our land and drive us before them. These men will kill the animals we rely on for food, clothing, and lodging. Strange animals will accompany them, one to ride, another to eat. They will introduce evil and strange sicknesses and try to have us forget Maheo, the creator, and the things Sweet Medicine taught us. He said we must be strong, especially the women, because we are the creators of life and if we weaken, the Cheyenne will cease to exist.”

Falling Stars Woman went silent, letting Sweet Medicine’s final admonition sink into the women around the fire. In the distance, the men and children celebrated, but the women were subdued, knowing and living the truth of Sweet Medicine’s long-ago vision.

I opened my mouth to thank Falling Stars Woman for the story and to ask more about the medicines they used when the tenor of the outside celebrations changed. The sounds of horses’ hooves and whooping made everyone around the fire stand and exit the tent.

We joined a stream of people heading toward the commotion. People around me began to whoop and clap and talk loudly. I could see only bits and pieces of the activity in the center circle through the tipis and the people in front of me. I coughed as dust from the running horses swirled in the air and combined with the smoke from dozens of fires. On the edge of the main semicircle Aénhé’ke stopped, while the rest of her tribe streamed ahead, whooping at the warriors making a spectacle around the large center fire. I stopped next to her and saw Kindle across the way, watching the warriors with a narrowed eye. Pope was next to him, taking notes.

My eyes were drawn to the poles the warriors held aloft. At the top of each was a circle much like the one Falling Stars Woman had used as a prop in her story. Only one side of these hoops was covered with hair, some of it short, some of it long. One had a long blond braid. My blood ran cold when I realized what they were.

Aénhé’ke stared at the spectacle, her arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes seemed to follow one warrior in particular: a warrior on a white horse painted with red stripes on its withers. The man holding the blond pigtail aloft.

“Who is he?” I asked.

Aénhé’ke’s eyes never left the man. “My husband.”

Kindle was beside me. He grasped my elbow. “Let’s go,” he said in my ear. He propelled me away, leaving Aénhé’ke staring daggers at her husband.

“Where’s Pope?”

“He’ll be fine,” Kindle said.

We were halfway down the thoroughfare through the agency when the din of celebration faded to a murmur. We walked up the steps into the single men’s quarters, down the hall, and to my room. When the door was closed behind us I said, “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t want to risk being recognized by a warrior in high spirits after a raid.”

“If someone recognizes you, you think they will kill you?”

Kindle shrugged. “At Washita Custer used Cheyenne women and children as shields so we could escape. And, took those women and children captive. He took one woman as a wife and got her pregnant, I hear.” Kindle practically spat the words out.

“You truly hate that man.”

“You have no idea.”

“So on one side of the Agency we have the Army camped, where you might be recognized, and on the other side you have the Indians who might recognize you.”

Kindle nodded. “And, in the middle we have Henry Pope, who wants our story.”

“I knew it!”

“And Soule, who wants our photograph.”

“We should leave.”

Kindle studied me. “No. You’re not strong enough yet.”

“I can manage.”

“We don’t have a scout.”

“What about Bob Johnson?”

“How would we pay him? Your necklace it too valuable. We need the reward money.”

“And we don’t know how long until the marshal arrives.”

Kindle shook his head.

“Good heavens. What are we going to do?”

Kindle tossed his hat onto the dresser and ripped off the eye patch. He rubbed his eye, and then raked his hands through his hair. The skin around his eye was red and irritated from the leather, making him look like he’d taken a punch to the face.

“Hell if I know.”