Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Winter comes, and with it, deep snow. Since we try to save our buffalo stores for times when we can’t find any game, I have to go out every day with snowshoes, trying to catch what I can. Every once in a while I shoot a rabbit, but by the time the snow begins to melt we’re close to starvation. We move back to our summer camp when the snow melts in the month When Geese Return and wait for Weayaya to tell us when to begin the preparations for the Sundance ceremony. I can’t contain my excitement since all of the camps gather to celebrate, and I will get to see Wakinyan for days. I wake up every day hoping Weayaya will announce the ceremony, and finally he nods and sends our fastest ponies in the four directions to bring the camps together.

I sit with Hanska by the edge of camp, and we both know who the other is looking for. He looks up and says, “Chances are Mika was married during the winter.”

I immediately worry that Wakinyan could’ve been too. Thinking about that, I don’t reply.

“I have five good ponies to trade with her father, and he would be a fool not to accept my offer.”

I push him even further. “I bet the paleface has her. His whole teepee was full of valuable things that we can’t get unless we go to the trading posts.”

Hanska grits his teeth and throws his knife at the cottonwood beside us, and it sinks into the green wood. People on horseback flow over the knoll like a sudden waterfall. Everyone rides or walks beside their horses. Small children are tied onto horses so they can’t fall off. Women pull their ponies, packed high, and drag their teepees in travoises behind them. Warriors run ahead, giving excited cries, and old men and women, wrapped in blankets even though there is no chill in the air, follow behind on slower ponies. Instantly, I recognize her shape from where I stand. She slowly rides her favorite pony beside her mother. I’m relieved there is no eagle feather in her hair. Hanska yelps, and I glance toward where he stares and see Mika up in front behind the warriors, riding one of the finest horses, with her eagle feather still in her hair. I wonder why she was not taken yet.

Hanska claps his strong hands together. “I am going to ask her father tonight.”

As they draw closer, I pretend to busy myself with making arrows, so I won’t seem too interested. When half of their tribe arrives and sets up camp to the south, the stars appear on the horizon. There is a great feeling when all of our relatives come together in one place for celebration after a hard winter. The buzz of happiness fills the air, and smiling faces are everywhere. I keep busy, watching Wakinyan and her mother put up their teepee. As soon as her mother leaves to speak with the other squaws, I decide to walk by her. She stays quiet as I pass, and I pretend to suddenly see her.

“Wakinyan?” I squint as though I barely recognize her, and she smiles, possibly believing my act. “You look different.”

She has grown much over the winter. Her face has lost its childish roundness, and her body changed from its straight shape to ripple out in interesting ways.

“You still look the same.” She laughs like it’s an insult, and I become instantly worried.

I settle next to her on the pile of blankets she’s sitting on, and I catch her checking for where her mother is. I take out my flint rock and rub my fingers over it nervously. The flint pops out of my hand and lands between us. When I go to grab it, she shoves me out of the way and grabs it up, giggling.

“Give that to me.” I hold my hand out, but she grasps the rock tight to her. “Give it back, or I will have to take it from you.”

She laughs and turns away, tucking herself around the flint. I wrap my arms around her and try to pry her hands open, but she thrashes around so I can’t take it. She then rolls up and runs off through the half-erected teepees, and I quickly follow, enjoying her game. I keep catching flashes of her feathered skirt and almost catch her as she darts around some cottonwoods outside the edge of the teepees. I follow her swishing sound through the underbrush and come out to see her head bobbing in the sea of high, dry, winter grasses. I know I can catch her now.

I pick up my pace, and I’m quickly behind her. I jump from behind, bringing her down below the hay. She laughs and pants from all the running and, when I go to grab her hand, she holds it out of reach. Pinning her down with my legs, I pry open her fingers, one by one, until the last stubborn two fingers clench over the flint. I bring her hand up to my teeth and threaten to bite them. She shakes her head as though she doesn’t believe I will, and when I put them in my mouth, she squeals, releases the flint and pushes me off. I secure my flint in my pouch and lay back with my arms over my head in the grass. The sky is a true blue with no interruption of clouds. She lies down beside me and I have a feeling that we have done this before. I search my memory for when that would have been but can’t remember.

“Did you have a good buffalo hunt?” she asks out of the comfortable silence.

“I took down eleven.” I watch her face to see what she thinks of that, and I’m happy to see her smile.

“Will you be going on raids soon?”

I wonder why she asks these questions, and part of me jumps to the conclusion that she might want to know how I’m faring.

“I went on one last fall and got a horse. I will go again soon, though.”

Things are quiet, and she stands up. “I should go back before mother finds me gone.”

“See you tonight?”

“At the Sundance.” She nods, and I watch her drift off through the grasses.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

The minutes with her feel so short, and the time between seeing her feels so long. I already miss her presence and have to go see mother to distract me until the Sundance begins. I watch her help the other squaws put up the huge ceremonial medicine lodge for the Sundance. The warriors and great hunters of the tribes now gather to volunteer for the dance. Hanska, Paytah, Chayton, and Otaktay all stand before Weayaya, naked except for their breechcloths and painted in their colors from head to toe. I wish I could have already become a warrior and stand there with them. A white painted form joins the group, and I watch Hanska step away from him. I’m unable to recognize him since his paint is so thick. The figure thumps his chest and identifies himself to the confused tribesmen. “Chase.”

We watch Weayaya carefully to see if a paleface will be allowed to take part in our sacred ceremony. Weayaya looks into Chase’s eyes and neither blinks. Weayaya closes his eyes and raises his hands slowly above his head.

When he brings them down, he nods. “You have proven yourself in the hunt. Now you can prove yourself in our Sundance.”

Hanska throws down his knife, which sticks in the ground, and walks away.

Weayaya simply says, “So it will be.”

He takes a bunch of dried sage from his bag and bends down slowly to catch it afire. He blows out the flames, and the sweet smoke wisps around his ancient face. Weayaya takes the herbs to each of the warriors and wafts the smoke around their heads. After he studies each one, he turns and says the names of twelve warriors—Chayton among them—to be the dancers. Otaktay is picked to be the guard, whose job it is to make sure the dancers endure. Chase seems unhappy to be left out, but he goes to find a seat under the medicine lodge to watch his first Sundance. The dancers sit around the inner circle as more than two hundred Lakotas come to find a seat.

Weayaya enters with his sacred medicine pipe, and everyone falls quiet as he lights the tobacco. He takes one long inhale and, with his eyes closed, releases the smoke from his nose. He then passes the pipe to his left, and after each dancer smokes, he’s given the bone whistle he must keep blowing throughout the long dance.

In the center of the circle is a skin, painted white on one side and black on the other, representing the wills of the Great Spirit. The dancers blow their whistles slowly, in unison, with their eyes fixed on the image in the center. The drums start up, and the people sing together as the dancers begin their journey. For two whole days, without breaks, water or food, the dancers will have to watch the image and keep blowing their whistles as they move. If they take their eyes off the Great Spirit or if they collapse before two days, they will greatly shame our people and disgrace themselves. It’s our job to cheer them on to keep them going.

A richly adorned Mika sits beside her mother on the opposite side of the circle. She has the most decorated dress on, beaded from the neck all the way down to the waist, in shiny blue beads. Her moccasins are covered in the same blue beads, and she has many quill and bead necklaces of every color around her neck. The children leave the teepee to play their favorite games, and I follow. Mika gives us a sad glance as we leave, and I realize now she is an adult she can no longer play our games. We all get our sticks and fight each other for the ball. I try to show off when I see Wakinyan standing there with her friends, watching, and I’m thrilled when I score a goal. I turn around to see if she noticed, but she is no longer there. I give up the game to go looking for her.

I walk through the different camps and along the swollen riverbed. Not finding her anywhere, I go back to watch the Sundancers. Right away, I spot Wakinyan and realize I should have known she would go back to sit with Mika. They’re giggling, not noticing anyone else, not even me. I wish I could go and sit with them but since Mika is there, it’s forbidden.

A great scream catches my attention, and I look left to see Apawi run into the circle, completely covered in mud. Some laugh at his appearance, others watch stone-faced as he runs around the dancers. Apawi jumps around them, in an attempt to make them shift their eyes from the Great Spirit in the center. Their whistles blow faster, showing their quickened breathing. After trying to catch their eyes a few times, Apawi raises his lance and pokes the dancers, hard, in various sensitive places, but not one of the dancers avert their eyes. Apawi bows to the dancers and dashes out as we all clap in praise of their endurance.

I look across at the girls and see Mika’s mother nod to them. They get up and leave together. I immediately follow them. I try to stay back though, behind the various groups of old men or squaws who are busy talking to relatives they haven’t seen for months. But Mika keeps noticing me in the background, and she yells, “Something is tracking you, Wakinyan.”

Wakinyan turns and I stop, pretending to study something I quickly pull from my side bag. They break out in great laughter, but Mika waves to me as they disappear over the boulders down to the riverbed. I drop my act, tuck the item away, and bolt to jump from boulder to boulder in three smooth leaps and back to the ground right next to them, making both of them laugh as I stumble a bit to get my footing. They crouch down over their moccasins so their skirts don’t get soiled as I pick up flat pebbles and try to get them to skip across the water. Wakinyan can make a pebble hop two or three times before it plummets into the rushing depths below. I wish I had practiced this more but, knowing I can’t get it to skip more than once, I decide to pick up rocks and throw them as far as I can instead. The distance doesn’t seem to impress them, and Mika gives Wakinyan a knowing look and they both giggle again. We waste the next few hours laughing, skipping stones and sitting, listening to the music of the Sundance. Mika, realizing the time, stands up.

“Wakinyan, we must go.” Wakinyan looks back at me, and I see she wants to stay but has to walk Mika back under the watch of her mother. The two of them hop along the rocks away from me, holding their skirts above their knees.

That night, I sit with Hanska at the campfire while we feast. He says, “Tonight I am going to go stand for Mika.”

“I thought you were going to offer your ponies for her?”

He shakes his head. “No. I have heard that Chayton and Chase can both offer much more.”

I raise my eyebrows. “More than five ponies?”

He nods without even glancing up from the fire.

I whistle. “Her father is a fool to think he can get more than that.”

“She is a flirt, Kohana. Her father is no fool. He has turned down the offers because he sees great promise in what she can bring by keeping more men interested.”

“Well, you already have one wife so you can forget about her.”

He stands up. “No, I will win her still.” He walks off toward Mika’s teepee, and I run to catch up.

“What is your plan?”

“To get Mika to come out to talk with me.”