Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I can see the glowing teepees from far off. The drums get louder, and their voices rise out to me. I run into the village as the evening star appears and find a place at the back of the large circle formed in the center of camp. A great bonfire reaches up to the stars, casting mysterious shadows over all the faces, making them hard to recognize. It seems the entire village is out tonight, either dancing or singing. I look around, trying to see the cause for such a celebration and, there, sitting by Chief Eyota are two white men, dressed in the thick, stiff clothes of their kind, smoking the peace pipe with the chief and council elders. Now and again, the white men come into our village to trade furs for guns, and they stay in the camp for some time before they go back to their trading posts.

I can’t understand a word of their strange tongue and don’t like the way they walk and stare at things. I push my way into the circle and sit down with my legs crossed, watching the warriors dance around the fire. When the song is over, some of the young maidens get up to dance, and I notice the white men stop talking suddenly to watch. One white man is much older than the other one, who looks like he must have just reached manhood. When I look back to the maidens dancing, I realize that two familiar young girls have joined in.

Mika and Wakinyan are adorned in their finest skirts and beaded necklaces. Mika wears mostly blue, and Wakinyan is in green. They both have their hair tightly braided, with feathers tied on each braid. Wakinyan dances around the older maidens as a child would, spinning and hopping with a large grin on her face, but Mika seems to have already learned the maiden dance and follows the other maidens. She is the most captivating dancer among them. As she circles around, every gaze sets upon her and follows her around the circle. Her feet taps are as light as an antelope’s, springing up on the quick beat. She dances low while tapping and then spreads her feather-adorned arms wide in perfect rhythm.

When the dance ends, Eyota motions for the snake dance—a courting dance for young couples—to begin. Some warriors take the hand of the maiden they’re already courting and lead them into the circle, while others simply start to dance alone, waiting to be joined by an interested pursuer. The chief pushes the two trappers to go and pick a maiden for the dance. The older one goes immediately to a shapely maiden standing near Chief Eyota, while the young one walks through the whole circle to ask Mika to dance. She shakes her head at first, since no maiden can dance the snake dance until she has had her women’s celebration, but Eyota gives a quick nod and hand swipe indicating that, in this instance, she should dance.

A pang of anger washes over me that this paleface gets special treatment, but then I decide it will be much fun to watch him dance. White men are terrible dancers, swaying as stiff as trees, legs planted and arms tightly moving. When all maidens are paired, the drums and flutes begin, and I smile as the trapper tries to follow her fluid movements. The trapper is much taller than Mika, who seems not yet fully grown. He hovers above her, and she smiles sweetly as he catches on. Not only does he catch on but, by the end of the dance, he moves as if he has been dancing the snake dance for many moons. When the drums stop, they’re moving as one.

She hops back to the spot near her mother. The trapper watches her sit and then goes back to the chief. The other man brings back the maiden he danced with and has her sit close beside him. The maiden looks pleased to be chosen and giggles to her sisters on her other side.

Wakinyan sits with a few girls her age, playing with the beads in their hair. Though the flutes continue and an elder gets up to sing alone, I see Eyota talking to the trappers again. I speak to the older boy beside me. “Why are the palefaces here?”

He turns to see if he knows me and quickly replies, “They came in the morning, bringing five ponies for the chief. The old one lived with us a year ago, and now he’s back with a young one.”

Wakinyan gets up and walks away, and I follow her. She hurries along, winding through the empty teepees. I hang back so she won’t notice me. I follow her down the knoll near the river to one of the teepees on the eastern side of camp. Wakinyan puts her hand in the bowl left by the entrance and bends down to take a drink. She then wipes her mouth and steps into the teepee. I come out from my hiding spot, attempting to memorize her exact teepee as her head pops back out, and she throws a moccasin at me. I dodge right before it hits my head, and the teepee erupts with giggled laughter. I run all the way home.

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I come back again the next night, with Hanska leading the way. This time, the circle is much smaller. Many in the tribe are walking around, visiting and talking, since darkness is always the tribe’s leisure time. All children who have grown out of their cradles are free to run through the village and return to their teepees when they need rest. Hanska goes to sit with those gathered near the light of the fire in the big council teepee, and I follow. The circle is made up primarily of warriors and a couple of council elders. The two white men are there again and are the subject of much interest. The older white man speaks our tongue surprisingly well, but he seems to be teaching and translating to the young one. It’s such a hot night that the circle sits away from the fire, and the white men sweat in their cloth. The younger one keeps coughing and only breathes through his mouth.

The older white man snickers and turns to us. “It will take a little while for him to get used to the bear grease.”

Palefaces always have trouble getting used to the grease we use on our hair and skin.

An elder speaks, “And how long will it take to get used to the smell of him?” We all laugh, and even Reynard chuckles a bit at this. White men smell like wet dogs when their wool clothes get wet and steam by the fire.

The white man points to us. “Are they from the west camp?’

Hanska nods for us.

“What are your names?’

“Hanska and Kohana,” he says.

The older man points to himself. “They call me Reynard, and this is Chase.”

“What is he doing here?” Hanska asks without a smile.

Reynard laughs. “What are any of us doing here?”

Eyota and some of the elders laugh along with him. He translates for Chase then replies, “He says he is here to steal your women.”

Reynard laughs hysterically along with Chief Eyota, whose deep dimple shows. Hanska is getting bothered.

“Everyone except this one.” Reynard pulls the young maiden he’d been dancing with down beside him. “Oh, and”—he belches mid-sentence and resumes—“this one too.” He chuckles as he brings down another young girl serving him food. He squeezes them both to him.

Hanska gives Eyota an agitated look. Eyota puts his hand up slightly and shoots him a stern glare.

Apawi enters the teepee, rear end first, and comes rolling over backwards into the circle. When he gets up, he sits backwards with his face toward the teepee skin. Chase and I seem the only ones amused by this, and Chase says, “Ha.”

Then Chase almost jumps out of his skin when Apawi immediately, and much louder, yells, “Ha!”

Chase stops laughing and looks to Reynard with his hands up. Reynard twists his fingers around his ear and rolls his eyes around strangely in some unspoken gesture. “Always nice to see you again, Apawi,” Reynard says, in a much-too-sweet tone.

Apawi breaks out in hysterical laughter, slapping his knee. Reynard looks around in wonderment, and his lips purse at the insult. Chase says something that amuses Reynard and Apawi breaks out in mimicked-laughter too.

Eyota speaks, “I light the peace pipe to smoke with my old and trusted friend.”

Apawi guffaws, rolling back and forth on the ground. The Chief, who only allows a Heyota to insult him, smokes and passes the pipe to Reynard first.

Reynard pushes the girls off to free his hands and holds the pipe up. “Thank you to everyone for welcoming me home.”

Apawi, of course, laughs at this the hardest and slams his hand on the ground. After smoking and passing the pipe to Chase, Reynard lifts his knee up slightly in Apawi’s direction and breaks wind. “Now that’s something to laugh at.”

Apawi is not amused, and quiet comes over the circle. The trappers break out in sputtered laughter, and Reynard lifts his large head to the ceiling, rolling it back and forth to contain his outburst. Everyone else smokes in silence and, as soon as Apawi takes the pipe, he coughs dramatically until he hands it on.

I decide to leave to see if I can find Wakinyan. I go straight to her teepee and see two women sitting outside talking. One quickly points to me staring at them and I run off. I walk by every teepee, trying to find her but don’t even see Mika anywhere. Girls usually don’t go far from camp without their mothers. Then I hear a great splash and a girl laughing.

I know where I will find them.

I creep up behind the cottonwoods growing by the river and try to watch without them seeing me. I hear many girls’ and boys’ voices. The children dive under the shimmering black water and pop up, surprising each other. I have never wished more than I do now that I liked to swim.

I move to sit down behind the tree, and Mika hears me. “Who is spying on us?”

She tries to see where I am, yet since the moon is but a sliver, it gives off little light. From where I’m sitting, I can only see the water shining off their dark hair and shoulders. I’m starting to memorize Wakinyan’s shape and size. I can pick her out every time she runs out of the water and goes jumping back in with a huge splash. When I see one of the taller boys pick her up and carry her, giggling, out of the water with her arms wrapped around his neck, I quickly decide to jump in. I hit the water with great force, and the coolness does feel good on this hot night. When I come up, someone swims near me, their face dark with the moon behind them. I hear Mika say, “Hard to recognize you without the canoe.”

Another head emerges from below, and I can see it’s Wakinyan. She laughs and says, “We will have to find another name then.”

“My name is Kohana.”

Mika bursts out laughing. “Not in the water!” she replies, and dives back down.

Wakinyan laughs, and I stare at her but can’t think of anything to say. After the quiet moment, she just pushes off toward Mika. When I see the older boy swim after her, I decide to follow them too. Mika and Wakinyan throw themselves on top of the boy and try to push him back under the water. He grabs Mika and launches her through the air as she lets out a yelp. Then he picks up Wakinyan and jumps, taking her under with him. When they resurface, she paddles away from him. As he tries to plunge after her, I jump on top of him, taking both of us under. He comes up, spitting water, and says to Mika, “Who’s this?”

“We flipped his canoe.” She looks to Wakinyan. “This is the second night he’s come.”

“Oh, so he’s suddenly interested in our camp then?” A white smile glows from the darkness of his face.

“Interested in Wakinyan’s teepee.” Mika spurts in laughter as Wakinyan tries to push her under before she says more.

The boy laughs as well, and as soon as Mika comes up, he picks her up and carries her to the bank, away from us. Wakinyan looks uncomfortable and seems to struggle for something to say.

She dives down, disappearing, only to pop up on my shoulders and pushes me into the water. Her skin is so warm on my back that it sends chills up my arms. I try to do just what I saw the boy do, and I lift her up and throw her out into the water. She comes back up smiling and wiping the water from her eyes. I pray secretly she will return to let me do it again, but she paddles off to Mika and the boy.

A tall form calls out from the bank, “Kohana!”

“Hanska?”

“Are you in the water?”

“Yes,” I say, hoping he won’t say anything embarrassing.

“You never go swimming.”

And it was too late.

I hear the girls laugh, and the boy replies, “He does when Wakinyan’s in the water!”

I have had enough and start to walk out to Hanska. “Is Mika in there too?”

I nod, and he dives in immediately. Hanska, older and taller than the boy, quickly takes his place swimming with Mika. The boy drifts back to the other boys. I sit on the mossy ground, watching and waiting until Hanska is ready to go home. Perhaps displaced by Hanska’s attention to Mika, Wakinyan gets out of the water. It almost hurts to look at her wringing the water from her hair. She reminds me of the swans I’ve seen preening their feathers. I could watch her all day. She steps into her skirt and calls to Mika that she is going to bed. Once she is gone, there is no reason to stay. I yell to Hanska, “I’m going back to camp, with or without you.”

I turn and go right by her teepee, but the fire is out and the teepee is dark. Hanska is suddenly next to me, and we walk back soundlessly, trying not to draw attention from the wolves.

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Two days later, I bring three rabbits back to Mother early and have time before it gets dark, so I walk over to the other camp alone. I sit under the cottonwoods near her teepee and wait, concealed behind the high grasses. She appears, dragging a large stag to her teepee. Her mother takes the skin off in one piece, and Wakinyan goes to stretch it. They work together, cutting the meat away and, when her mother leaves to cook it, Wakinyan searches the ground. With her braids pulled back, she walks around all the teepees in the area. Grinning, she pounces on something and puts it in the fringed pouch tied at her side. After a few more finds, I realize she’s collecting beads that have fallen off clothing while the owners performed chores or danced in celebration.

Something rustles in the brush next to me, and I tense. The thing pops his head up, searches around wide-eyed and then disappears again.

Apawi.

He reappears, closer, and stares at Wakinyan, only to pop back down again. I know he is mocking my sneaking around, so I grab a heavy rock near my foot and aim it right for his hunched back. A great scream peals out as it makes contact, drawing the attention of the people nearby. Wakinyan spins from her searching to watch the dramatic clown crawl out on hands and knees, rubbing his back, crying with great exaggeration. I seem to be making a fool of myself wherever I go. I step out of the grasses and see Wakinyan’s face go from puzzlement to understanding the clown’s actions.

Her mother comes around at this time and says, “Daughter, help me hang the meat to dry now.”

She walks away, obeying her mother, and I leave to go back to mine. As I pass by Apawi, still on the ground, he gives me a mischievous smile, so I throw another little rock at him.

Over the next few days, I decide to keep away from the other camp. Instead, I search the ground of our camp and fill a small buffalo horn cup with beads. I can hardly wait until sunset when I can run to the other camp with my hand covering the horn to keep the mix of colored beads from spilling. Afraid of being caught sneaking up again, I go directly to the teepee and see her mother standing by the outdoor fire. She notices me right away and gives me a hard-to-read look, her eyebrows pinched together and her lips tight. I quickly bend over, place the little cup by the entrance to the teepee and dart off into the grasses.

I stay to watch as her mother slowly goes over to see what I have brought. Her face spreads with a big smile. She takes the beads inside the teepee and immediately Wakinyan steps back out to scan the spot where I hid before and, on her tiptoes, she searches the camp for me. Not finding me, she goes back inside, and I turn to go home before it gets too dark.