Lakota Flower Read online

  The day after General William Harney began his march up the North Platte Road, a feast in Chumani’s honor took place in the Red Shield camp which was nestled against their sacred Black Hills for the winter. As was their custom the event was held on the fourth day after a child’s birth and prior to the Naming Ceremony. The three sons of Rising Bear and some of their friends had hunted for fresh game to be served at the celebration. Winona, Macha, Hanmani, Zitkala, Pretty Meadow, Caroline, and other women had roasted and stewed the various meats and prepared other foods and breads to accompany them during the meal.

  Chumani, the honored guest, had chatted with the busy women as they carried out their tasks in cheerful efficiency. Both she and the baby were doing fine, and everyone in camp knew the reason why—the white captive’s medicine skills. Many of the people had expressed their gratitude to Caroline for saving their lives, which pleased Chumani greatly.

  As the people ate and talked and congratulated the parents and presented the Vision Woman and new mother with gifts, Caroline watched them from a distance at Cloud Chaser’s tepee where she tended Casmu. It was evident to her how close the band and families were and how special children were to them and to the continuance of their bloodlines. Using care not to be obvious, she observed War Eagle with his family, friends, and other band members. Each time she caught him slyly glancing in her direction, sheer delight washed over her. He was a unique and irresistible man. She yearned to be kissed and embraced by him again, countless times, to spend time with him, just talking or taking a stroll. She craved to get to know him better, and for him to do the same with her.

  How long, Caroline fretted, would her existence continue in this state of painful denial of her heart’s desire, in this state of not knowing what would happen to her tomorrow or next week or next month or next year? Would she spend the remainder of her life as a captive in Cloud Chaser’s tepee with War Eagle just out of her reach? Would she be forced to watch him court, marry, and have children with another woman, with one of his own kind? How could she endure such anguish and defeat?

  Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Caroline; pity never helps anything. Eat the food Hanmani brought to you and study the in-progress lesson you’re viewing. You just might learn something valuable and useful.

  As soon as everyone finished eating Caroline watched Cloud Chaser approach her with a grin on his face. She listened in surprise and befuddlement as he told her to join them at the gathering, at Chumani’s and the shaman’s requests. He retrieved Casmu in his cradle-board and guided her to the crowded area where she stood with the chief’s family and next to Chumani. She remained quiet and alert as she observed the giveaway ritual to honor the newborn. Cloud Chaser had told her earlier it was the custom to give various gifts to relatives, friends, the poor, and high-ranking men and women of their band to show honor to their newborn child and as a way of practicing Generosity. She also knew Chumani and Wind Dancer’s family had been making or collecting wicaku for months as they awaited the baby’s birth. Sometimes a gift would be a horse, blanket, pouch, prime hide or fur, jewelry, knife sheath, moccasins or garment, headband, or weapons taken from enemies during raids or battles. Before the feast started, she had helped carry and pile the presents on a blanket, and had admired their beauty and quality as she did so.

  Last, Chumani turned to Caroline, placed a thong around her neck, smiled, and said in English, “To honor and thank you, our friend, for saving the lives of Dewdrop and our daughter.” Then, she repeated the words in Lakota for their people to understand.

  Murmurs of “Han” and “Heyapi” filed the air as many agreed or added their gratitude with words of “Yes” and “It is said.” Many even smiled or nodded at Caroline, who returned those kind gestures.

  Caroline looked down at the necklace that rested near her heart and touched it in awe. It was a leather medallion with a right hand painted on its center and suspended from a softened leather strip. She had learned that sign language—index and middle fingers touching and lifted with the thumb and the other two curled toward the palm—meant friend and friendship. Near the edges were painted smaller symbols for Dewdrops, Wind Dancer, Red Shields, and a blue eye for her. She looked at Dewdrops, smiled with misty eyes, and said in an emotion-strained voice, “Pilaymaya, Chumani.”

  “It is good,” the woman replied and smiled once more.

  As the family was positioned for the Naming Ceremony, Caroline did not know if she was supposed to leave or stay until the shaman gently grasped her arm and guided her to stand beside Macha, who was next to Cloud Chaser, then Hanmani, then War Eagle, and the others. It had been difficult, but she had conquered the urge to glance at her beloved when she received the gift and when she walked past him moments ago. Yet, she was all too cognizant of his close proximity and almost intoxicating appeal. Just as she was aware of Two Feathers presence not far away. She had glimpsed the offensive man watching her several times today and—from the corner of her eye—as she followed Nahemana to her current position. No doubt he was angered by the honor and attention she had received. She didn’t know why she allowed him to intimidate her so much and so often, as she was safe from his evil clutches under Cloud Chaser’s protection, and surely now under that of his family, which included the chief and shaman. She also didn’t know why she was being permitted to stand with the head family unless it was because this event would not be taking place if not for her. Still, she was only a lowly captive, one of the enemy. Or was she? … If her role had changed, she had not been informed of it. For now, she must quiet those troubling thoughts and observe the event, even though she could grasp only a word here and there.

  In his right hand, Nahemana held a long white feather with snowy tufts attached to its quill and held a thick rock with a hollowed-out center in his left one. Slowly burning herbs and sweet grass in nature’s container sent forth grayish fumes, which were captured by a mild breeze and swirled about as they drifted upward. First, the shaman prayed to evoke the presence of the Supreme Being, Mother Earth, and other good spirits. “Tunkashila, Maka Hun’ku, Woniyawaste, we summon you to watch this sacred ceremony. Tunkashila, we thank You for those who have lived before us and for all they taught those who came after them. We thank You for those to be born on future suns and moons who will carry on our customs and bloodlines, those who will love and serve You after we live at Your side. Those who stand here in Your sight thank You for sending them to walk upon the face of Mother Earth and we thank Her for allowing us to do so. We thank You for your many blessings, guidance, and protection. Hear and watch us on this sun.”

  Afterward, he said more prayers as he used the eagle feather to wing smoke—the breath of the Great Spirit—over the infant. “Tunkashila, we thank You for this child who battled hard to enter the world You made for us, and she will be called Inunpa, for she came Second to our chief’s son and mate. We ask You to give her strength, courage, and good skills to serve You, her family, and her people with. Guide her and protect her in all things.”

  He wafted smoke into Chumani’s face and said, “Dewdrops, be a good mother to your daughter. Teach her all she must learn to become a good woman and Red Shield.”

  Chumani—who was still weak and sore from her ordeal, but filled with joy—smiled and nodded, wishing her parents and grandparents could be there for this special ceremony and happy event, but they were camped far away with their Brule band, as her father was their chief.

  Nahemana sidestepped to Waci Tate, used the feather to propel wisps into his face, and said, “Wind Dancer, be a good father to your daughter. Protect her and provide for her needs.”

  He approached Rising Bear and Winona, guided smoke into their faces, and said, “Our chief and his mate, be good grandparents to this child.”

  Caroline saw the older couple nod that they would do as commanded.

  After repeating those actions with War Eagle, Hanmani, Cloud Chaser, and Macha, he told them, “Help Inunpa’s parents and grandparents teach her to be a good Re
d Shield,” and all four nodded that they would obey.

  To all others present, Nahemana commanded, “Family and friends of Wind Dancer and Dewdrops, help them to carry out the Creator’s will.”

  Then, to the surprise of some present, the shaman stepped before Caroline, swept grayish wisps into her face, and said, “Tunkashila, we thank You for sending this white woman to live among us. We thank You for showing her how to save Inunpa’s life when she was too weak to enter this world. Open Ca-ro-line’s heart and mind and teach her who and what we are so she will understand and be loyal to us in the dark suns ahead.”

  Caroline was relieved she did not cough when the smoke was urged into her face and up her nostrils, as she feared that would be an insult to them and their Great Spirit and would place a dark cloud over her and the ceremony. Tears did dampen her eyes, partly from the smoke and partly from deep emotion, and she hoped everyone blamed the latter if the moisture was sighted. She smiled at the gentle-mannered shaman and nodded, though she only grasped some of his words. Once more, she told herself she must work harder to learn their language and customs.

  Nahemana looked from one family member to the next and then at the crowd as he finalized the ceremony. “It is done; she will be called Inunpa of the Red Shields. May she be protected and guided by her people and by the Great Spirit until she joins Him many suns from this one.”

  War Eagle’s heart surged with happiness and pride for his brother’s victory and for Caroline’s inclusion in the stirring event. His spirit soared as high, free, and powerful as the sky creature from whom he had been given a name during his vision quest upon entering manhood. He saw her leaving the area with Cloud Chaser and Macha, but did not approach her because his cousin was watching him with a scowl. So far, he had not been given an opportunity to speak to her alone, but soon he would seek one so he could thank her and praise her for her good deeds. After he reaffirmed that decision, he wondered how such behavior would affect her.

  As War Eagle returned to his family’s tepee, his mind was flooded with remembrances of their meeting, their ride to the summer camp after her capture, their journey toward the Cheyenne camp, and their intimate moments beneath the ledge during the storm and near the riverbank after the battle with Black Fist. He wanted to share the latter again with her. He yearned to hold her, kiss her, stroke her hair and flesh, and possess her fully. Would he ever be given the chance to do so? If not, this ache within him would increase. Some sun and in some way, he must have his heart’s desire, but when and how, he did not know…

  Shortly before dusk, Caroline asked if she could take a gift to Inunpa. She showed the rag doll she had made during the last few days to Cloud Chaser, who smiled and gave his permission. She had used the remainder of her demolished petticoat for its head, body, and stuffings. Macha had given her a yellowish oily substance from the buffalo’s gall to dye multiple strips almost the color of her own hair. She had used skills her mother had taught her long ago and supplies from her travel repair kit for sewing them into place. She had removed two blue buttons from the bottom of a blouse to give it eyes the shade of hers. The rest of its facial features—nose, mouth, eyebrows, and lashes—had been stained with other dyes from nature. Its dress had been made from a piece torn from the same garment from which she had made a bandage for War Eagle following his fight with the Crow enemy. “I named her Friend Brings, for I helped bring Inunpa into the world. Is it an acceptable gift, or will it be insulting because the doll is white?”

  “It is a good and generous gift, Caroline. Dewdrops and Wind Dancer will be pleased and honored. Inunpa will enjoy playing with it when she is older, and it will always remind her of the white woman who saved her life.”

  “Thank you, Cloud Chaser, and I’ll return as fast as possible.”

  In Wind Dancer’s tepee, Chumani took the doll from Caroline and studied the excellent workmanship as she was told its name and the reason why Caroline made it. She smiled and said, “It is good, my friend. I will wrap it in a fur and keep it safe in a pouch until Inunpa can play with it.”

  Wind Dancer took it from his wife’s extended hand and looked at the doll with sunny hair, blue eyes, and white skin. “It is good and generous, Caroline. Thank you for the gift and for the lives of Dewdrops and Inunpa.”

  “I’m the one who is grateful to you and your people for being so kind to me. I hope everyone here will realize I’m not an enemy to be hated and feared. I will not try to escape and I will not betray your people to mine. I only hope my being in your camp does not provoke an attack on it.”

  “Do not fear a bad deed, for soldiers do not know you live among us. If they ride to our camp, it is not to fight for your return. It will be to destroy us and steal our lands. You will not be blamed or punished for their evil.”

  “Thank you, Wind Dancer, and I’m sorry about the wicked things my people do to you’ they are wrong. You are a good man and will be a good chief for your people. I must go and help Dawn before it’s dark outside.”

  Wind Dancer only nodded with a pleasant expression, but Chumani spoke to her again before she left their tepee.

  “Go with our thanks, my friend. We will talk more on a new sun.”

  In Cloud Chaser’s tepee that evening as they ate their last meal of the day, he related to Caroline what the shaman had said to her during the Naming Ceremony, and what Nahemana had said to the others present.

  Caroline was surprised to hear those words, and they pleased her. Yet, she decided not to comment on them. Cloud Chaser’s mood appeared somber, and she wondered if her lack of a response disturbed him. To check out that possibility, she murmured, “Your father and mother were so proud and happy today.”

  Cloud Chaser’s mind had wandered during her silence as he thought about the doll Caroline had made and given to Inunpa, a doll with the same colorings of his own mother, who had missed Casmu’s birth and Naming Ceremony. He had not asked his father if he had been given such a ceremony, but he suspected there had been none due to the circumstances of his conception—one encounter between Rising Bear and Margaret Phillips, who had come to be known as Omaste, meaning Sunshine for her golden hair. Yet, that unintentional sharing of a mat had resulted from his father’s grief and loneliness and perhaps his manly needs during the difficult time when Winona was a captive of the Pawnee for two years and was feared dead or lost to him forever. He had been named Cloud Chaser at birth, not given a childhood name, which usually was changed during a brave’s vision quest upon entering manhood as with his brothers. He remembered his mother telling him that she had selected it, not his father. Despite his mixed blood, he had been reared as Rising Bear’s son until he was taken far away by the Martins, a year after his mother was lost to him. He could not help wondering if his life would have been different if Winona had not escaped and returned and Omaste had lived and perhaps become Rising Bear’s wife.

  In the midst of those recollections and thoughts, Caroline’s query crept into his mind. “My mother is dead. She died—” Suddenly he realized what he was saying and halted, scolding himself for his distraction and slip.

  A startled Caroline asked before she could stop herself, “Winona isn’t your mother? How so? You said you were not adopted. I’m confused.”

  “My mixed bloodline will not help you escape your fate as captive.”

  “I don’t follow your meaning, Cloud Chaser.”

  He looked at her with a stoic expression and used a firm but harsh tone to close the matter as he stated, “I am the blood son of Rising Bear, but not Winona; that is all you need to know about me.”

  Caroline did not apologize for asking about him, but nodded obedience to his implied command not to pry any further. From his tone of voice and expression, he was troubled by his slip of the tongue and by something that had happened in his past. She knew he had been captured in this territory at the age of ten and had been reared in Oregon by an elderly white couple until the age of twenty-two. He had returned to his people last year, but there
was more to his story, to his history, to his birth than he would reveal. Many questions filled her mind. Who was his mother? When and how had she died? What did he mean by “mixed bloodline”? And why had he said it “will not help you escape your fate as a captive”?

  Without looking at Cloud Chaser and while pretending to focus on her food, Caroline called his image to mind and studied it. Was it possible her owner was part … white? That his mother had been a white captive? Had Rising Bear taken a second wife or simply … mated with her? Perhaps, if she had guessed right, that incident was a shameful secret, one kept hidden in a box that she must not attempt to unlock and peek inside. If her deductions were accurate, her mind continued to reason, it would explain his appearance, that strong hint of whiteness in him, despite his long brown hair and mostly Indian features. It also would explain—wouldn’t it?—why War Eagle had chosen his second brother to be her owner, a man who would understand and accept a white woman in his tepee. After all, Chumani already had a son of three years and was heavy with child number two when she was captured, so Dewdrops—who spoke English—could have used her help more than or as much as Macha…

  Perhaps, Caroline reasoned, it would be smart to test his feelings toward her and learn if he wanted her out of his sight now that she had discovered his closely guarded secret. “Would you like for me to stay with Dewdrops for a few days to tend the baby so you and Dawn can have some privacy for a while? I’ve been living and working underfoot for a long time and you two have been married for only a little over a year.”