Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Mother stands close to Mika as she prepares Hanska’s supper. She slips the bag into her hand, and Mika stuffs it in the top of her skirt. Looking around to see if anyone sees her, Mother whispers the instructions and Mika nods. I go to Chase and tell him to watch for the next time the old woman comes because he will have to stay near his teepee.

That night I have the strange dream again.

I’m back on the cliff, looking down to see the boy who just jumped. Yet nothing lies below but the lazy river.

“Redmond!”

I turn to the beautiful, wild, white woman who is smiling at me as though she knows me. She dances a strange dance, with her arms still at her side and her feet moving so quickly I can’t follow them. She spins around, laughs, and dances right over the cliff. I try to reach out once I see her take that step over, but she is gone too.

The wind blows strong behind me, sending all my long hair, like whips, in front of me. I turn around to get the hair out of my face and see the bald-headed man with the red splotches looking down, contemplating the fall.

“Stand back!” I try to stop him, but he shakes his head and limps off the cliff. I look at the only two left standing with me. The man on the horse and the man with green eyes. We walk to the edge to see where the others have disappeared to…then I wake up.

Mother comes rushing over one morning, red from running. “The old woman has gone into Mika’s teepee!”

I slip around behind a neighboring teepee and wait. There’s slight struggle within the teepee but not loud enough to draw anyone’s attention. I expect to see Mika dash out the flap but something delays her. I wonder what that would be and realize it must be the ropes. I bet she forgot to have a knife with her and she is untying them all by hand. My heart starts to race as I spy Hanska walking back from the pony field to the campfire between his and Chases’s teepee. I start hoping that she will poke her head out first to see if he has returned, and my heart sinks as she leaps out with a rope still tied to her ankle. She runs as fast as a squaw can across the space, but Hanska sees the movement and charges right at her, catching her by the campfire. She screams as he grabs her roughly from behind, and she cries, “Chase!” right before he slits her throat.

A scarlet spray of blood reaches high over their heads, and Mika clutches her throat in a last attempt to stem the flow before falling. Hanska lets her fall but throws his guilty knife away. Chase rushes out of the teepee and sees her, crumpled and bleeding, on the ground. He gathers her up in his arms and tries to put pressure on the large wound. She holds his gaze for a moment before closing her eyes, but he doesn’t lay her back down until he feels the life leave her body.

Covered in her blood, he stands slowly to face Hanska. He lunges and throws Hanska in one quick movement and then hits him, over and over again, in the face and stomach. The other warriors, who Hanska was just sitting with, jump on Chase, but to no avail. Nothing can stop the power of such rage. Once Chase shows signs of fatigue, Reynard steps in to pull a severely battered Hanska free.

Chase screams, “He killed her!”

Hanska, spitting teeth and blood, holding his broken ribs, says, “She was mine.”

Eyota comes out and is quiet as one of the warriors relays what has occurred. Weayaya comes behind him as the village gathers to see what all the noise is. Weayaya gives me a look of disappointment as he sees Mika on the ground. The chief speaks as Chase still thrashes, trying to get at Hanska again. “It is a Lakota right to leave your husband’s teepee for that of another as long as they give proper payment. This squaw did not reach her lover’s teepee and so it is also the right of the husband to do what he wishes to her if he catches her.”

Chase breaks free at this and crashes into Hanska again. He knocks him unconscious as his head hits the ground and pummels him as he kneels over him. The warriors pull him off again.

Eyota shouts at Chase, “You have disrespected me by not accepting my decision. I do not want you back in my village ever again. You do not honor the Lakota way.”

He throws the two warriors off him and screams at the Chief, “I am glad I am not Lakota then!”

The warriors take out their knives at his disrespect, but Eyota puts his arms down to let him go. Chase goes over to Mika on the ground, the life spilled out around her. He pulls out his flute, puts it in her empty hands, and kisses her cheek. He then gets up on his horse and gives a nod to Reynard, looking utterly perplexed. He searches the crowd for me. Finding me, he shakes his head solemnly and rides off.

All hope is lost.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Hanska purchases another bride within weeks. He never knows of my involvement, but it’s difficult to look him in the eye. Winter comes quickly, and the snow makes it hard to hunt. I’m surprised Chase has not returned to kill Hanska, and I wonder where he is now. The village seems full of despair since Mika’s death is bad medicine, and all wait for retribution from the Great Spirit. Paytah is seen every once in a while dragging about his teepee. He is never at the campfires anymore, and many say he has stopped eating all together. One day, I see what he keeps concealed under his buffalo robe, and I know they are right. I go into his teepee one snowy afternoon and find him, lying, staring up, watching the smoke from his fire drift out the teepee opening. He doesn’t turn the first time I say his name and gives me a far-off look when he does see me.

“I brought you some meat.” I put the sack inside his teepee. He only turns back to watch the smoke.

“Are you trying to kill yourself?”

He starts to laugh, and his frail body shakes. “It is a lot harder than it looks.”

“Paytah, quit this now.” I push the meat toward him.

“Kohana, leave me be.” He brings his arm out of the blanket to waft the smell of the meat away, and I see the cuttings all the way up his arm. I leave him alone and pull the buffalo robe around me tighter as the frigid wind steals the breath from me. Apawi crosses in front of me in only a breechcloth, bare feet sinking in the snow. He stares at me and pretends to wipe the sweat from his brow.

A week later, I’m snowshoeing a mile away from camp when Nagi goes flying off my shoulder, signaling prey, and I follow. I step carefully through the ebony trees and freeze when I see Nagi hopping toward a slumped over figure in a buffalo robe.

“Nagi!” I yell, not wanting him to get near it, and Nagi flies back to my shoulder obediently. I walk close enough to see the blue face of Paytah, with his mouth around an old musket, and the black blood splashed out behind him in the white snow. I can’t touch him or bury him since he took his own life—tribal rules. I’m forced to turn around and leave him to fade away, just like he wanted.