Lakota Winds (Zebra Historical Romance) Read online

  When she was assured he was gone, she scampered down the tree with the agility of a squirrel. She walked to where her horse awaited her, with Cetan perched on a nearby branch, watching her with his keen eyes.

  "There you are," she murmured to the beloved hawk she had kept since she was ten winters old. "Come, Cetan, we ride for camp," she said, holding out her arm with a wide leather band now secured around it. After the bird settled himself there with his tawny gaze on her, Chumani reprimanded in a playful tone, "I may have needed your help if Wind Dancer had not appeared and rescued me from our enemies. But it was not a good sign to meet him up close, Cetan, for he stirs strange feelings within me. I must make certain our paths never cross and our eyes never meet again."

  As soon as those words escaped her lips, Chumani frowned and scolded herself once more for having such forbidden feelings and thoughts. She kneed her mount and headed southward to her village.

  As Wind Dancer approached his people's winter encampment the next day, the shaman of their tribe halted him before he reached the numerous tepees which were set up amidst tall green pines and stillbarren hardwoods in a northern sheltered valley of the Paha Sapa. He smiled at his mother's father, as he loved and respected the wise and powerful man. Despite the clouds within his grandfather's eyes, which whitened more with every circle of the seasons, he noted an odd gleam in them and an unusual expression on the old man's heavily creased face.

  Nahemana rested a wrinkled hand on the warrior's muscled thigh, locked gazes with him, and said, "Remember the past sun, he who dances with the wind, for your feet have touched the path to your destiny."

  "I do not understand your words, Grandfather. I have battled and defeated Crow many times. Their horses are a gift to you for trade. Their belongings will be given to those with loved ones slain by our enemy."

  "Your heart is good and generous, micinksi. " Nahemana praised Wind Dancer, calling him "my son," since he had helped rear this man as was the people's custom. "Wakantanka will reward you on the hunt and in battle. Soon, the words the Great Mystery put within my head will become clear to Nahemana; this is not the sun for Him to reveal their meaning or for us to speak of them. Walk with me, micinksi. Tell me all your hands did, your ears heard, and your eyes saw since you left camp on the past sun."

  Wind Dancer was eager to go to his family's tepee to show them he had returned safely. He also wanted to share his exciting news with his best friend, Red Feather, and his younger brother, War Eagle. Yet, he always obeyed his grandfather, so he slid off his horse's back, secured four sets of leather thongs to bushes, and followed the slow-moving shaman to a small clearing surrounded by black boulders. As with Nahemana, he sat on the ground cross-legged, facing him and with little space between them.

  "The air grows warmer each sun, micinksi, but a strange coldness attacks within me." Nahemana revealed his concerns in low tones. "I have not felt such trouble in my heart and mind since my firstborn daughter vanished many seasons ago. I fear danger rides toward us at a fast pace and great suffering lies ahead for our people if we do not find and defeat it. My daughter's safe return was a great victory over our enemy, but soon we must seek an even greater victory over them."

  Wind Dancer remembered the painful time when all believed his mother was dead for two circles of the seasons. That had been twenty winters past when he had lived to four marks on a growing stick. It was during that tormenting time when his father had felt and shown his only weakness, but that was not something either he or Rising Bear wanted to recall. It was strange, he reasoned, that the number two played another agonizing part in his life, for two winters' past, it felt as if his heart had been torn from his body when his son and wife were slain by a Crow band. At times, Wakantanka worked His will in mysterious and cutting ways, yet, an honorable man accepted those challenges, without anger and a loss of faith in Him. "When will you seek answers about me and our danger from the Great Spirit, Grandfather?" Wind Dancer asked.

  From his grandson's expression, Nahemana knew his mind had visited the past once more, and silently grieved with him for a while. "I will do so on the next full moon," he finally answered, "as He told me in a dream when I last slept. The ice which chills my thoughts and body comes from the direction of the rising sun and from where the winter winds are born and blow toward us."

  "You speak of two different perils, Grandfather?"

  "Yes, micinksi, but the two threats will melt into one force as the ice arrows on the trees melt into a stream and mix with its waters. If we do not control it and keep it within its banks, the new water has the power to flow over us and destroy our people and camp."

  Wind Dancer felt his own heart chill and his spirit tremble at the use of the number two again. "Do not worry, Grandfather," he tried to assure the Shaman, "we will keep it within its banks."

  Nahemana's weakened gaze locked with Wind Dancer's. His grandson's eyes contained a contradictory mixture of confidence and uncertainty, as did his own heart. "That task will be yours, micinksi, for you also walked in my dream when I last slept. You have been chosen as the Great Spirit's weapon against our enemies. As has another who is a stranger to us, but will become our ally and your helper. I will pray for your courage and skills to help you walk the path He will set before you."

  Wind Dancer wondered who that "ally" and "helper" would be and when he would come. "What words must I speak and what deeds must I do to save our people and our land, Grandfather?" he asked with great curiosity.

  "The Great Spirit did not allow me to hear and see them at this time. Soon He will speak them in a loud voice for my old ears to hear and He will uncloud my eyes so I may see them and reveal them to you and others. I will go to Mato Paha for my vision quest on the next Wi minbe. "

  Wind Dancer's heart filled with anticipation and he prayed he could meet the unknown challenge which loomed before him. But what, he wondered, did his coming duty have to do with what had taken place on the past sun? Did his task and destiny involve the fallen Apsaalooke warriors, or the spirit woman who still haunted him, or both? He had no choice except to live through twenty-one suns until the next full moon at their sacred Bear Mountain where his grandfather, their shaman, would be granted his answers.

  Following their daily morning prayers and meal, Wind Dancer and Red Feather sat on rush mats near a pine tree while working on their weapons. Beside each man lay a pile of shafts from the chokecherry, gooseberry, and willow. Already those slender limbs had been measured and cut for the proper length, bark peeled away, straightened of any curves, shaved with a knife to make them as identical as possible, notched on one end for fletching, and grooved on the other for a piercing head. Strong sinew and glue made from buffalo hooves for securing the points and feathers to the shafts lay nearby. Though some of the other warriors used iron obtained from trading with the wasicun, both men preferred to use stones they found and chiseled into arrowheads, a task done often during the long winter.

  "Where does your mind roam, mitakola?" Red Feather called Wind Dancer "my friend" with great affection and respect. "You wrap the sinew around the tip and shaft many times, only to remove it and do the task again when it was right the first time. I have made ten arrows while you play with one."

  Wind Dancer laughed as he laid the chokecherry shaft across his lap and looked at Red Feather. "It thinks of the woman I met in the Brave Heart's forest three suns' past," he confessed, as the truth had always been spoken between them. One of the greatest honors and enjoyments in life was a friend-a kola-who loved and protected another's life as much as his own. It had been that way between them since they were small boys. They had played and trained together with their fathers, grandfathers, and other males in their family circles. Later, they had ridden together on hunts and into battle, their bond as close as blood brothers. "There were many enemies in the forest that sun; I wish to know if she returned home safely as I did."

  "You speak of the wit-stealing wicagnayesa, " Red Feather jested as he recalled what his friend
had told him about the mysterious woman upon returning to camp.

  Yes, Wind Dancer's mind concurred, she was a "trickster" who had eluded him and bested his tracking skills, a beautiful woman who invaded his thoughts when awake and his dreams when asleep. He did not understand this powerful pull toward her, but it could not be denied, though he made every attempt to do so. He did not want a woman to become special to him, another woman who could die at an enemy's hand, and at a time when a dangerous and unknown challenge loomed ahead. Yet, it was as if she called out to him, and he could not seem to resist that summons.

  After Wind Dancer whispered those thoughts to him, Red Feather said, "The Brave Heart camp is within a sun's ride. We can say we come to see when they break camp to head for the grasslands to hunt buffalo."

  Wind Dancer refuted his best friend's suggestion. "It is too soon to hunt the buffalo; the females are bringing forth new life at this time. And the great hunt always takes place after the growing and mating season."

  "We can say we come to see how they survived the cold season."

  "That would not sound true, and we must not speak false to those we may need as allies or they will turn against us."

  "We can say we come to ask if more Crow have encroached on their hunting grounds or attacked their camp in the night."

  "That would reveal I have done the same," Wind Dancer pointed out.

  "But your reason was a good one, to spare Wakantanka's creature from suffering; they will understand and accept it. Or you can speak the truth."

  Wind Dancer shook his head at his friend's playful hint. "I must not ask about a woman who may have a husband, a warrior who would not like my interest in her. Perhaps she was not supposed to be in the forest alone and that is why she sneaked away and took no battle prizes. To seek her out would expose her disobedience."

  "That could be true, mitakola; you told me of her bad ways. The women of our band would be punished for such behavior toward a warrior."

  "Perhaps there was a good reason for her mean words and manner."

  "Perhaps the fierce and powerful Waci Tate frightened her into a loss of wits. Or perhaps she was angered and shamed because you filled her body with desire when her husband is ugly and selfish and does not give her pleasure upon the sleeping mat or he is too old to do his duty there."

  Wind Dancer chuckled at his friend's jests. He called to mind her beautiful image and how she had looked at him with interest, a remembrance which sparked fiery hunger within his loins. The thought of her being captured and abused by a Crow enemy sent quivers of fury throughout him. He even felt nibblings of envy and jealousy toward a possible husband, a man who could enjoy her body every moon and enjoy her beauty, smiles, and laughter every sun. Why, he wondered, had his wife never made him experience such potent feelings? But he knew the answer as he asked himself the question: she had been chosen by his father, not him, after he had reached manhood and it was time to mate and bring forth children. Even so, following her death, he had not wished to repeat that experience. No woman had tempted him until-

  "It has been over two circles of the seasons since you lost your wife and son, mitakola. Do your heart and body hunger to replace them?"

  Wind Dancer's fading smile vanished fast at Red Feather's serious expression. "I had put such longings away until I saw Morning Mist," he revealed. "She stirred my body as no woman has, and I yearn for another child. I love and respect my family, but it was strange to return to their tepee and to remain there after mine was gone, as if doing so shouts loudly of that defeat by the Bird People. At times, it is as if I walk two life trails. When my moccasins roam one, it is as if they never lived; when they travel the other, it is as if they still live and I will see them that sun or moon."

  Red Feather understood well: following the deaths of his wife and son, Wind Dancer, as was their custom in the ituwahan, gave away all he owned except his weapons and horse which he needed for hunting and for battling enemies. He also kept his Wicasta Itancan shirt which was half blue and half yellow and decorated with hairlocks, a symbol of his rank in that powerful group of men who carried out the orders of the council. Homeless and alone afterward, he returned to his parents' tepee, there to stay until he took another wife, who owned the family's tepee and its possessions. Their physical bodies had long ago been reclaimed by nature's elements from their burial scaffolds, their spirits- wanagi-now living with Wakantanka.

  "That is the way it is meant to be, mitakola, "Red Feather said. "The Great Spirit dulls those memories so peace can come and pains be healed. The time for Ghost-Owning is past, so you must release them forever and travel a new and happy path."

  As he stared at the unfinished arrow across his thighs, Wind Dancer briefly reflected on the loss of his cherished son. He recalled the wanagi wopahte which had contained his son's second finest garments, favorite playthings, and hairlock; that leather spirit pouch had hung on a short huyamni for a year following the boy's death. Food had been placed before that three-legged stand at meals for one full span of the seasons, until those possessions were placed upon his son's scaffold after the ituwahan ceremony of feasting and giving away of almost all of his belongings, thus ending the Ghost-Owning rite for his beloved child. He recalled how he had sung the death chant for two suns and moons until he was exhausted and hoarse. He recalled how his heart had ached and felt empty of emotion for a long time. Then he had accepted his fate and the reality his son traveled the "spirit trail." Yet, he had never gotten over loving and missing the boy or hungering for revenge on the Crow, one in particular.

  Not wanting to reopen that wound, Wind Dancer changed the subject, "Grandfather says a war is coming, one like a lance with sharp points at each end, each facing a different direction. I do not fear death, my friend, only dishonor and being denied the ranks of hunter and protector for my family. I am certain Morning Mist was not a woman who would bend like a willow to become a supple bow. I do not need a woman with skills and prowess to match mine; I need a woman who gives joy, warmth, and obedience."

  "If the Great Spirit crossed your path with the one of Morning Mist, is it not wise to find it and walk it?" Red Feather speculated, "Come, let us ride to the Brave Heart camp to seek word of her fate and to learn if she has a mate. We need only to say we come to visit our allies, words which are true."

  "Your words are wise, my friend; let us seek enlightment."

  The following evening, Wind Dancer and Red Feather camped at the edge of their hunting grounds after leaving the Brave Heart's camp.

  The oldest son of Chief Rising Bear said, "I do not understand, my friend. How can it be they do not know and have not heard of a woman who dresses and battles as a man and is called Morning Mist?"

  "It is strange, mitakola. Perhaps she was a spirit helper sent to guide you to the Crow so you could defeat them before they scouted our camp or the Brave Heart's. As with the coming of White Buffalo Maiden long, long ago, after her task was done, Pte Skawin disappeared and has not returned."

  "It is as if she vanished as did my mother and half-white brother many seasons ago. We do not know why either was taken away or why only one was returned to our family. Perhaps it will be the same with Morning Mist. Perhaps our paths will cross again as they did with my mother, or perhaps she is gone forever as happened with my second brother. Until her truth is revealed to me, I must push away all thoughts of her and think only of the perils before us," Wind Dancer concluded aloud, and his best friend agreed with him.

  Ten days had passed since Wind Dancer encountered the mysterious woman in the forest when bad news arrived at their winter encampment which was nestled in the protective foothills of the Paha Sapa. The two sons of Chief Rising Bear along with several other men had just returned from a successful hunt when they heard someone approach and call out to them.

  Wind Dancer turned and saw a rider slide from his horse and slump to the ground and surmised one of their tribal members was injured. Before he and others could reach the fallen warrior, the man ca
lled out a warning in a weakened voice.

  "Hiya! Lila makujelo! Lel mayazan!"

  Wind Dancer halted everyone's approach when Badger said, "No! I am sick! It hurts here," and touched his stomach. He asked where the rest of the trading party was and Badger told him they would not be returning.

  "Upi kte sni yelo. "

  Sighting no wounds, Wind Dancer asked him why not. "Toke sni?"

  "Come no closer; I am bad medicine; I carry the white man's sickness within me. All others are dead. This evil will leap upon you and slay you as it did with us. I must tell all before my spirit leaves my-"

  Wind Dancer grabbed one man's arm and halted him from going to their friend's aid when the warrior clasped his arms over his abdomen, groaned in agony, and dry-heaved so hard he shuddered. Liquid ran down his thighs from beneath an already soiled breechclout. His heart ached at Badger's torment, but they could not risk bringing him into camp and infecting others with a lethal disease. He still remembered the mikosica-the smallpox epidemic-which ravaged many tribes when he was ten winters old. That was only one of the wasicun's evils, along with his false tongue, firewater, and thundersticks. Many reasons abounded to reinforce his feeling that his people should avoid them. Yet, others wanted to trade with them, as with those who had taken pelts and hides to the post at Pierre which was built along the mighty river a few suns' travel away.

  After Rising Bear and Nahemana joined them, the chief asked what was wrong, and his eldest son explained the grim situation. When others began to talk, the chief requested silence and told Badger to continue his report and to take his time. "Inila. Wociciyaka wacin. Hanheya. "