Chapter Nine

 

 

Gabrielle stared at the closed flap of the tepee where moments ago Two Moons had left in a rush. One minute they were fighting and then the next…

She sat up and yanked down her dress. Damn him! He had done it again. He’d knocked down her defenses until she couldn’t think of anything but feeling him inside her, and then he just walked off in the middle. Without an explanation yet!

She jerked to her feet and paced back and forth, her footsteps grooved a path in the tepee’s dirt floor. She was the bigger moron. God, did she ever learn? You’d think that being dumped once in a lifetime would have taught her that men were fickle, afraid of commitment, afraid to stick around. What did he think would have happened if they’d made love? Marriage? Fat chance. She’d almost made that mistake once. She certainly didn’t love Two Moons. Desire… perhaps.

“Damn you!”

She strode to the opening and threw open the flap. What could she have possibly been thinking? She stared outside.

She hadn’t been thinking, that was the problem. She had let herself fall victim to a man’s whims. Let herself fall for a pair of strong arms, and eyes so chocolaty dark that she felt as though she could lose herself in their deep depths.

She sighed. Fool that she was, she missed making love. It had been such a long time since anyone had touched her like he had. Not since Robert, had she felt so wonderfully out of control. And I paid for that dearly enough.

A sharp pain attacked her abdomen. She dropped her hand to her belly as another cramp attacked. Great. Could things get any worse? Blood trickled down her leg.

Gabrielle ran to her pallet of fur and pulled from beneath, the white blouse she had worn her first day in the village. Quickly, she ripped the fabric into strips and tied a few pieces around her body. God, what she wouldn’t give for a bathroom and a box of tampons. She straightened her dress and stepped outside.

The aroma of stew wafted toward her. Food! McDonalds would be heaven-sent at this moment. God knew what she was eating-birds, squirrels, even prairie dogs. Eating an animal, after she’d been forced to clean it, was enough to make her want to become a vegetarian. Irritation thinned her lips.

Ah, hell. She’d have to confront Two Moons eventually.

She sat next to a woman who was busy pulverizing some boiled meat. Staring at the crude rawhide bowl where the meat, mixed with bits of fat and dried berries were being ground with a granite meat pounder, Gabrielle couldn't help but be amazed. Hundreds of years from now, some archeologist was going to find those artifacts and wonder who had used them and for what purpose. And here she sat, seeing it first-hand.

Gabrielle glanced to Two Moons who sat beside a tepee painted with black and blue geometric shapes. Curly, her little hero, sat on his lap. The boy looked so small against the wide expanse of Two Moons' bare chest. His arms looked so strong wrapped around Curly, and his bronzed skin slicked with grease, shone smooth beneath the sunlight. She couldn't help but remember how it felt to be pressed up against that broad chest, or how his musky male scent had sent her senses reeling. They were studying an arrow, Two Moons running his fingers along its shaft and Curly nodding with understanding at something he was saying.

Two Moons turned slightly. The sun illuminated the scars on his back and she wondered, as she had so often lying next to him at night, how he'd come to get those crisscrossed marks. Even from this distance, they were noticeable. Somehow, she couldn't imagine him doing anything wrong enough to warrant that kind of punishment.

Curly dropped the arrow. As Two Moons bent over to retrieve it, the medicine pouch he wore around his neck swung forward. She wondered what was inside that little bag. What magic items did he wear to ward off evil spirits and protect him from his enemies? Those were the things that made the man; things that were dear to his heart. Would there be a precious stone, or the claw of a grizzly inside?

He glanced at her. The raw sexual magnetism that seemed to emanate from his body made her heart jolt. His bold stare, so intense, so purely provocative, sent her mind spinning.

“You keep your thoughts from my man,” a hard voice from above her ordered.

Gabrielle looked up. Standing overhead was a statuesque woman, with a wide girth to her shoulders and with arms that could probably lift a fifty-pound weight without flinching.

“You can have him,” Gabrielle lifted her chin, meeting the woman’s icy gaze.

She could feel the scrutinizing stares of all those around her, waiting and watching.

“You speak with the same forked-tongue as your true people. I see the way your eyes search his.”

“I don't know what you're talking about. Why don't you go kill a rabbit or something. I've got work to do.” Gabrielle grabbed a stone gavel and began mashing berries in a bowl on her lap. Maybe if she ignored her, Ms bodybuilder would leave.

“He is mine. You blue-eyed whore.”

“That's it!” Gabrielle jumped up. The dish fell to the ground with a thud. “I'm sick and tired of everyone pushing me around.” Her fingers poking imaginary holes through the woman's collarbone, she continued. “You'd better watch who you’re calling a whore.”

The woman drew in a heavy breath. With a sudden thrust, her hand came up, reaching for Gabrielle's hair.

“Kills Pretty!” Chahanpi's voice rang out before Kills Pretty touched Gabrielle's head. Gabrielle ducked sideways, then spun sideways facing Chahanpi who was walking toward them.

“It is my wish that no harm come to her. If you want me as an enemy, then disregard my words.” Chahanpi's words, though softly spoken, had a steel edge to them.

Kills Pretty dropped her hand. Her mouth thinned with frustration, she hesitated a moment. Icy contempt flashed in her eyes; then without a word, she knocked Gabrielle in the shoulder as she pushed between them.

“Don't mind Kills Pretty Enemy. She is jealous.”

Kills Pretty Enemy. That was an appropriate name for a bully Gabrielle thought as she watched her walk away. “Jealous of what?” What did Chahanpi hold over her head, to make the woman shake in her shoes?

“She wishes to become Two Moons', mitawicu, his wife.” Chahanpi stepped before her. “But, it is you who shares his tepee.”

Gabrielle’s gaze flew to Kills Pretty Enemy. Now she understood the depth behind the woman's hate.

A young woman with the doe eyes, stared at her with a mixture of anxiety and concern on her round face.

“Who's that young woman over there?”

“Where?” Chahanpi turned. Her gaze followed Gabrielle's pointed finger. “Her name is Gentle Fawn. She is Two Moons’ sister and the mother of Curly.”

“Curly?” Her little hero? Chahanpi's words came back to her. “He is of Two Moons’ family.” Now it all makes sense. “Then I must go tell her what a fine boy she has.”

“Not now. Sit. Let us talk about Gentle Fawn.” Chahanpi gestured to the ground.

Gabrielle sat.

Chahanpi settled beside her. “Gentle Fawn does not live in the same world as you, or I.. During the long snows many soldiers walked our lands. They came to us, smoked the chanunpa, told us they wanted peace. When they returned to their camps, they forced many of my sisters to go with them.” Chahanpi paused. Her gaze on Two Moons' sister, she watched as Gentle Fawn entered her tepee, then she continued. “Gentle Fawn was one of the women. They told her she had the greatest honor. She was to bed down with the soldier-chief.”

A flash of grief ripped through Gabrielle. Rape. It had happened so frequently between both the Indians and the whites, neither side caring if their lusting needs destroyed those “chosen” multitudes.

“Against her will, Gentle Fawn stayed with the soldier-chief for many nights. Then the soldier-chief's wife came to his camp. Now Gentle Fawn could not stay. She was an embarrassment to the soldier-chief. He sent her away, used and broken.”

A heaviness settled in Gabrielle's chest. In a small way she could sympathize with her. She, too, had known the fear, the threatening terror of rape. With a shiver of recollection she recalled being in the cave with Two Moons and then in Little Wolf's tepee. Two Moons would never have raped her, she knew that now, but what about Little Wolf?

“Gentle Fawn is a proud woman,” Chahanpi continued. “For many moons she kept her silence as the soldier-chief's child grew within her. Then on the day of Curly's birth, through her screams, her mind left us to find peace in her own world. Two Moons, he always worries about his younger sister. He is a good man.”

Gabrielle shot Two Moons a glance. He studied her intently with what appeared to be concern. She wondered for a moment, what he would have done if there had been a fight. She had no doubt that he would have eventually stopped them, but whose side would he have taken? Did he have feelings for Kills Pretty? Were they lovers?

She glanced away, annoyed. A swift stab of jealousy twisted her heart. He had asked her if she was crazy. Maybe she was. She was sitting here wondering if he was attracted to her.

“Thanks for coming to my rescue, again,” Gabrielle said.

“You are my friend. I would do no less.”

Friend. What a novel idea. When was the last time she had one of those? “What month is this?”

A faint glint of surprise widened Chahanpi's eyes as she studied her thoughtfully.

Great. If she didn't think I was crazy before, that ought to do it. Gabrielle bit the inside of her lip. How could she explain how she had no knowledge of her whereabouts, or the day, the month, or for that matter why she couldn't tell a poisonous berry from a good one. Hell, no wonder they all thought she was crazy.

“It is the moon of the ripening berries,” Chahanpi answered, her voice low, soft.

Gabrielle tried to recall what she had read about the Native American calendar. If she remembered correctly that would mean it was June.

The sound of Rattling Blanket's laughter rose above the women's voices.

Gabrielle frowned. “That woman works me like a slave.”

“You belong to Rattling Blanket,” replied Chahanpi.

“I belong to no one.”

“You were a gift to Two Moons' mother. It is her right to do with you as she wishes. It is our way.”

“Well, sometimes I don't agree with your ways,” Gabrielle snapped in annoyance. “If anyone was treated the way I'm treated, the civil rights activists would slap a lawsuit on that woman so fast, her head would spin,” she mumbled under her breath.

“What?

“Oh, never mind. You forgot a bead.” Gabrielle pointed to a blank spot on the garment Chahanpi held in her lap.

“No. That was my intention. Only Tunkashila is perfect. It reminds me to be humble. Only he can create something perfect, the rest of us make mistakes.”

Chahanpi's words, like the entire attitude of the people in the village, whose every day's actions exuded spirituality and a respect for their creator, was one of the things that truly awed her. Living with these people was like living in a monastery without walls.

She believed in God, but never went to church. As a child, she’d been taught to say her prayers. But growing up in a household where love and respect were almost nonexistent, she had come to wonder if God perhaps had ceased to listen. And the death of her younger brother had put an end to her talks with the Almighty.

Not happy with the way her thoughts were going, Gabrielle abruptly changed the subject. “Anyway, now the entire village has other things to talk about, right?” She was sure the little scene between Kills Pretty and her was the hot topic of discussion.

“Talking about people reminds us of the right and proper way of life. How else, if not by other's mistakes, are we to learn? Is it not the same way where you come from? Two Moons, believes you lived at the fort.”

Gabrielle shrugged. “We call it gossip.” She couldn't explain where she had come from. Perhaps it would be better if Chahanpi and everyone else believed she had come from the fort. What could it hurt?

“Then it is true. You lived among the whites. Do not make that known. Others will not be as understanding as I, with good reason.”

“Why?”

“It is one thing to be Crow, another to live among the ones with the pale faces. The Crow scouts at the fort send the soldiers to fight against my people. You cannot change the white blood that runs through you, but there are those who do not understand why the Upsaroka, Crow help the white soldiers. Even as we speak the Long Knives search for us, look to bring us back to live on their reservations.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It is not within your power to change the journey my people must follow.”

Oh, but it was, Gabrielle thought. She was the only one who could do something. She knew how it all played out. There had to be something she could do.

 

****

 

Two Moons could not stop the way his heart raced, or its irregular, pounding against his ribs as his gaze beheld Blue Eyes’ loveliness. The darkness of her hair like a raven's wing, shone under the sun. Her skin of golden honey was clear and flawless. If it were not for the color of her eyes, she would right now be sharing his blanket. He knew his thoughts were twisted. Hatred for the whites burned in his gut like a raging fire, yes. But at moments like this, when his loins ached and his heart raced, when that damned little voice from the corner of his mind spoke to him, he cursed the vow he had made long ago. Only his spirit woman would share his life.

At the sound of his nephew's voice, Two Moons focused back to the little boy who sat on his lap. "Have you listened to my words?" Two Moons asked.

Curly looked at him with eyes that showed intelligence and spirit. "Yes and I will be a brave warrior, like you."

A knot of guilt tightened Two Moons’ gut. How could the child think such worthy words of praise when in the past, he had shown him little if no attention? Even this day, it had been an effort to take him upon his knee, to push aside his hatred for that part of the boy which reminded him of his white enemy.

Black Hawk’s words, ran though his head. “One must learn to see past his blindness to become an Earth man.” Curly was his blindness. He did this for her. She needed the boy; needed someone to bring her spirit back to the living.

“Rattling Blanket…” His mother's name brought his attention back to the women. “I belong to no one,” Blue Eyes said.

What trouble was Blue Eyes now?

He lifted Curly from his lap, placing the boy on his feet. “Go then and practice what I have taught you.” He gave the boy a gentle pat on his backside and Curly ran off with the arrow in his hand. The child smiled with open gratefulness before he disappeared into the bushes; a smile that should have brought gladness to his heart but only served to further his guilt.

Out of the corner of this eye, Two Moons saw his mother walking over to Blue Eyes. With haste he stood and started toward the women. The tension between his mother and Blue Eyes was strong enough without Blue Eyes' barbed words.

“Rattling Blanket wishes you to follow, there are many buffalo hides that need to be cleaned,” he translated to Blue Eyes when he reached her side.

She stared at him. He wondered what was going on in that pretty head of hers. Would she refuse his mother as she had said she refused him? He knew not what the word harem was; nor did he like her tone of voice when she'd said it earlier.

He grabbed her arm and spun her around. “Come. I will show you what needs to be done.” Before she had a chance to argue, he dragged her after him.

He stopped when they reached the area where a buffalo hide had been laid out across the ground and stretched tautly between wooden stakes.

“Here.” He released her and thrust her forward toward the circle. “This one has been dried under the sun and is ready to be worked.” He picked up a short, hoe-like tool and held it out to her. “You will use this. It is called wahintke.”

She looked at the tool, then glanced down at the hide. An unsettling frown tipped her lips.

“I will show you.”

Dragging the tool back and forth across the hide, he was well aware of the stares he was getting from his friends who stood a short distance away, observing him. He couldn't hear their whispers, but knew when he heard laughter, he was the brunt of their jokes.

“But--”

He handed her the tool. “When you have finished, we will turn it over and remove the hair.”

“We need to-”

“I do not wish to talk now. You will work. I will stay and watch.” He sat beside her and pulled his knife from its sheath. He picked up a branch and began whittling. Glancing over to his friends, he noticed they were watching him closely. Before the sun set he would be hearing their heckling remarks.

“It must have been a beautiful beast.” Blue Eyes said softly.

Two Moons stopped carving and looked at her. She stood beside him, scraping the hide as he had showed her. She had learned quickly. This pleased him. “He was a worthy adversary.”

“There are so few left, it's a shame.”

“It is not my people who kill them all,” he jumped up, “but the long knives and white hunters who kill for sheer pleasure. It is like a game to them. The white men come to our land like the rains without end. Like a mighty flood they will wash away all that is good and precious to us, including the buffalo.”

“They'll come back. You may not believe me, but one day your children will see the buffalo again. The government will protect them.” Her silky voice was low and filled with compassion.

“More white man's promises I will never see. How do you know this?”

“I just do. Eventually, we all learn by our mistakes. Even the white man.”

Was it possible for the wasicun to change their ways? He glanced at her. Were her words that of the spirit world? Could it be that the great Wakan Tanka had sent her to him so he could help his people understand?

He reached into an open parfleche hanging on a pole and handed her a picture of brains, liver and fat. “Rub this into the skin to soften it.”

At the sight of it, she paled, covered her mouth with her hand.

He frowned. If she were of the spirit world, would the mere sight of the buffalo’s fat make her sick?

She reached for the parfleche.

“It is late." He pulled the drawstring light and placed the pouch on the ground. “You have done enough for now.” He glanced at her, hearing the words Shadow Elk had said. “It will take time. She will come to know our ways.” He hoped his friend was right and she learned quickly before the others sent him to live with the winktes, those men who dressed like women and did women's work.

Two Moons drew in a heavy breath. Perhaps he would teach her.

****

 

Gabrielle, in a much needed moment of solitude, stared across the hazy violet dusk lit plains where hundreds of horses grazed on blades of yellowing grass. Her languid mind drifted, like the wispy white clouds, as she gazed over the rise of the bluffs, where camp lookouts patrolled the perimeter of camp.

Even here, away from the center of the village there was no escaping the constant pounding of the rhythmic drums, the stomping of moccasin feet in ceremonies without end and the monotonous caterwauling of singing voices. Yet, even with the hordes of people, with all the commotion everywhere around her, she felt lonely, a disturbing feeling she hadn't had in a very long time.

A tug at her skirt brought her attention to her side. Curly looked up at her, smiling.

“Hello.” She bent down. “Let's see...” she brought her finger to her chin in contemplation. What was the word for hello? “Hau.” She smiled, pleased she could recall it.

“Hau. Nituwe he?”

“Nit-tu-we he?” She had no idea what that meant, but he smiled at her attempt to repeat him. She touched the tip of his nose and returned his smile. "You're my little hero, did you know that? I never did thank you."

“He asks who you are. Your name.” Rattling Blanket walked up beside her.

Startled by her knowledge of English, Gabrielle gave her a sidelong glance of utter disbelief. How many others in camp understood, but had chosen to ignore her? “My name is Gabrielle,” she said to Curly, before she straightened. “Would you tell him-”

Before she had a chance to finish, Rattling Blanket, in Lakota, issued what sounded like a command and pointed to a group of cottonwood trees. Curly seemed pleased by her words. With a beaming smile, he turned, then scurried away.

“I was only going to thank him for taking his pet wolf away. Why do you dislike me so?” Seeing that Rattling Blanket was about to leave without a word, Gabrielle hastily continued. “It's more than just because I'm Crow. Isn't it?”

Rattling Blanket's mouth pulled into a sour grin. “Your presence in my son's lodge is not good.”

“I didn't ask to be brought there. In fact, I had no say in the matter at all,” Gabrielle retorted with sarcasm.

“My son only sees what is your face, not the dangers that lie in your heart.”

“I bring him no danger.” She could help him. She knew what the future held.

“Kills Pretty Enemy can give him many fine sons of our own blood. She can see his lodge is strong. His wishes are fulfilled. What can you offer?”

“Well, I can…” What was she thinking? She didn't want to give him anything. “I know that.” Nothing. She knew nothing she could at this time tell Rattling Blanket without sounding like a fool. Gabrielle shrugged. “It doesn't seem as if I have a choice in the matter. Your son, for whatever reason wishes my company.”

Rattling Blanket shot her a look of disgust. “You do not even know the difference between a poisonous root and one that is food. It is like I said. You will bring him trouble.” With a snort, she turned and in Lakota ordered her to follow.

They entered the tepee. The essence of cedar wafted through the air from a fire built in the center of the lodge. Gabrielle stepped to the left, only to find Two Moons' hand on her arm stopping her. Displeasure hovered in his eyes as he waited for her to move. She knew what he was thinking, that she should know by now that when you enter a tepee you should step to the right, then walk counterclockwise toward the setting sun to find her place.

She clenched her hands at her side and watched him walk to his honored seat and settle onto a mat of loosely woven tulle.

This blatantly macho, man-dominated era was beginning to get on her nerves. He watched her walk over to the fire and she could feel his gaze upon her back as she picked up a ladle and dropped the boiled meat into his polished horn cop. If it weren’t for the fact that his mother sat nearby, she had the good mind to feed herself first. She strolled over and handed him his meal.

After serving Rattling Blanket, Gabrielle sat along the perimeter of the tepee where all his belongs were kept. She tried to force down her dinner, but the buffalo stew and thick fry bread formed a lump in her throat.

“Here.” Two Moons' words startled her; she hadn't noticed him rise. “This will help it go down easier.” He handed her a cup of honey. “Some say it to be poisonous, but I can assure you I have eaten enough of it to tell you it is not.”

She took the cup, poured the heavy golden liquid over her meat and nodded her thanks. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Rattling Blanket's disapproving glare. “Your mother doesn't approve of your kindness.”

“My mother knows it is not a man's place to serve a woman.”

“Then why do you?”

“You will do me no good if you do not eat.”

“Right, just stick the feed bag on the horse's face and regardless of whether he's hungry, he'll give you a good day's work. Is that it?”

“You talk in circles. Eat.” Two Moons strode back to his spot and sat.

Maybe she was just tired. After all, he was only trying to be nice to her. She took a nibble of meat. It tasted somewhat better laced with honey. She swallowed.

A vision of the hide she’d scraped and the mush of brains he had wanted her to rub into the skin, entered her mind and the meat tasted sour in her mouth. It had hurt his male pride explaining and lifting the buffalo skin for her. The fact that his friends stood around with teasing stares and snickers made his act of kindness that much more considerate. She suspected he wasn't going to live it down.

Gabrielle glanced over to Two Moons. Watching her, she could see the concern in his eyes. He nodded, pleased she had tasted the stew. He brought his fingers to his lips indicating that she should continue to eat. She dropped her gaze, took another bite of dinner and wanted to gag.

Hearing his laughter, she looked up. The smile on his face was enough to knock her socks off if she’d been wearing any. A wonderful smile that softened the harshness of his features, she wished he would do so more often. He was less intimidating when he smiled. A flicker of jealousy shot through her when he touched his mother's hand with tenderness. She could see that he loved her, that she adored him. How lucky they were. If only…