California Woman (Daughters of the Whirlwind Book 1) (11 page)

"How beautiful," Esther said.
"What is that smell?"

Solana
took
her hand, smiling. "We are not allowed there. It is the sweathouse—for the
warriors. They go there, they say, each day to cleanse themselves in... what is
the word? steam... made from water and floating herbs. They also—." She
stopped. "I will tell you that another time. For now, know that they also
go there to be away from us. Especially the women who talk too much."

Esther laughed. "It's the same the
world over."

"They pay a price,"
Solana
laughed. "In winter they must rinse
in the river or roll in the cold snow. Which is only fair."

Esther laughed again. "And you.
Where do you clean yourselves?"

Solana
frowned.
"It is strange. The white believe we are filthy. We do not use the
sweathouse, but we heat water, which carries the same herbs as that in the
sweathouse. We have... what is your word? rags... which the men do not. In the
summer we, too, wash in the river—when it is not so cold that our breasts would
become stone."

An atmosphere of balance, peace, and
rightness enveloped the village. Briefly, it soothed Esther between her
frequent periods of dizziness, sleep, and rest. She had not spoken of John
Alexander, and
Solana
carefully
avoided any explanation of the small, recently built, covered enclosure set off
from the rest of the camp. The evening before Sutter returned, the men of the
village began carrying logs and branches from neatly stacked rows of firewood
behind the huts. In the center of a clearing adjacent to the new enclosure,
they built a pyramidal structure seven feet high. Up one side, they set logs in
the form of a stairway to the top, the apex of which was flat and surmounted by
a small platform of thin, interwoven branches.

That night
Solana
told Esther much about Miwokan. He was a
chief, as his father, grandfather, great- and great-great grandfathers had been
before him. He was related directly and by barter marriage to other chiefs.
Their "nation" extended from the South Fork, north of which was Maidu
territory, far to the south and deep into the Sierras in a wondrous, narrow
valley of enormous waterfalls they called
uzumati
. As an adolescent, Miwokan
had felt a need to outdo his rivals in the rituals of manhood, considered
himself obliged to earn his preeminent position as well as inherit it. Alone in
the woods, as was the custom, he chose not to kill a deer or an elk but singled
out the ferocious animal even the Indians avoided at all costs. Digging a deep
pit, covering it with thin, leafy branches, and then pretending to trifle with
her young, he had enraged a female grizzly bear and provoked her to chase him.
On one flank,
Solana
said,
he bore the four broad scars of a swipe the bear had taken at him.

"He fell, just before leaping over
the pit, and she caught him. But then
she
fell and was trapped. He
killed her with his spear."

"How terrible!"

"It is not terrible. It is our
way."

"But the cubs. The poor little
cubs." She thought of John Alexander. "Did they die too, without
their mother?"

Solana
smiled.
"No, they did not die. The bears are much as we are. We do not often kill
them because their footprint is so much like that of the people. They travel in
tribes, small tribes, then go apart, then come together again. When a mother
dies, always another, what is the word?"

"Female."

"Fe-male... another mother takes the
place of that one who is dead."

Esther felt a wave of grief. "And
when a cub dies?"

Solana
quickly,
wisely guided her away from the subject. "There is always a time for
another cub." She pointed to the silver-tipped fur throw Esther was lying
on. "Miwokan killed that male, is that what you call it?—that male you are
on. Six summers later, when he was to be made chief."

Esther looked at the fur of the grizzly
and thought of Mosby.
One day I will kill you, she thought. Somehow. Some
way.

Solana
went
on with Miwokan's history, and Esther was fascinated. His ancestors had worked
for and been taught Spanish, agricultural arts, and music by the early
missionaries. One of them had been an aide to Father
Junipero
Serra, who founded the mission chain that
flourished from San Diego in the south to San Francisco Solano, just north of
Yerba
Buena.
Miwokan's forebears had
either passed down the teachings or seen to it that their descendants received
schooling from the Franciscans until the missions were secularized and began
decaying.

Esther was becoming drowsy.
Solana,
purposely trying to distract her from the
sounds of preparation coming from the clearing near the new, covered enclosure,
smiled. Her drone, her stories of Miwokan and his antecedents, were working.
Esther forced herself to stay awake one last time.
Solana
told her how she had been raised a
Catholic near the Mission San Francisco Solano and had been named after the
patron saint's home village in a place called Spain. She explained how she, of
the Wappos, had come to be married to a Miwok. Miwokan had passed her village,
and then the mission, on his way to trade furs for shells and other valuable
objects with distantly related families of Miwoks who lived north of
Yerba
Buena,
along the edge of the great
waters to the west.

Miwokan loved the statues in the
missions, although he had discarded the religion of the white priests after
becoming both chief and bear shaman. When he entered the Mission San Francisco
Solano, he saw
Solana
placing
flowers on the altar. He immediately sought out the Wappo chief who was
Solana's father.
Solana
fished
in a pouch to show Esther the necklace of enormous, multicolored shells he had
given her as a wedding present upon his return from the coast. Only after the
Indian woman nostalgically watched the colors dance in the soft light from the
small circle of glowing embers in the center of the hut did she realize that
Esther had finally fallen asleep.

In the morning, on their first walk,
Solana
led Esther away from the village toward
the river. Trailing, Esther stopped for a moment and wondered about the new,
pyramidal structure. She noted that it was decorated with feathers, animals
carved from wood, symbols painted on hides, and obviously human figures formed
with pliant branches, stones, and tufts of fur. Other objects sat on the small
platform as well, but she could not make them out. When
Solana
noticed her staring at it, she quickly
eased her in the opposite direction and offered no explanation. Esther decided
not to ask about it. She had the vague suspicion that it had something to do
with her, but then she became absorbed in the beauty around her.

Lying in the border area between the
foothill and transition zones of the Sierra Nevada range, the forest around the
village was a floral wonderland of birch, buckeye, laurel, maple, silver fir,
cedar, an occasional sequoia, blue, black, and golden oaks, manzanita, and
buckthorn, chaparral, spruce, and yellow pine. Hundreds of birds, the loudest of
which were jays and woodpeckers, broke the silence of the snow-covered
woodland. Squirrels peered around tree trunks at Esther and
Solana
as they drew nearer the muted sound of
rushing water. Tracks of larger birds, rabbits, foxes, and raccoons crisscrossed
the path to the river, and Esther, realizing her cabin was located just
downstream, drank in what she knew by pure luck would be her own surroundings.

She let out a gasp as they came to the
riverbank and saw the waterfall. At a point where sheer stone cliffs rose as
high as the evergreens and the riverbed dropped sharply for twenty feet, the
ice was broken in a long, serrated edge. The purest water Esther had ever seen
rushed out from under it, spilling in a perfect crystalline arc to an oval
opening in the ice at the base of the fall, then disappeared again on its long
journey to the ocean.

Sutter was waiting for her when they
returned to the village. Quantities of food simmered in kettles over an open,
rectangular fire pit. A pair of freshly killed deer were being turned slowly
over glowing logs by two of Miwokan's men. There was activity in each of the
huts, but the village was much quieter than it had been during the last three
days. It was obvious that they were preparing for something important to them.
Esther guessed what it was but did not speak of it or show any sign that she
knew. She ate a small quantity of food with Sutter, rested for two hours, then
took another slow walk with him.

"You have been here long enough to
know if you will like living in these parts. Are you still certain this is what
you want, Esther?"

Again, the unaccustomed sound of the name
set off a fleeting train of doubt about everything she was doing. She fought
off the uncertainty and took a deep breath. "More than ever, I will be at
peace here."

"The cabin is ready for you. I have
seen it, and it will do. I left some cooking utensils, a kettle or two, some
silverware, and a few pieces of china."

"I want to pay you for them."

"There is no need to. They are not
used at the fort. I seem to have acquired far more things than we need."

She took his hand and held it for a
moment, thanking him with her eyes.

"I have also left a long rifle, a
revolver, and ammunition. These you may borrow as long as you are here."

"Why are you so kind to me?"
she asked artlessly.

Sutter found himself unexpectedly
flustered. He cleared his throat and finally, not looking at her, said: "I
have... adopted you—unofficially—as a niece." Somehow, that relationship,
even in "adoptive" terms, seemed to him less potentially incestuous
than "daughter." The notion that Esther might possibly take a liking
to him when she recovered, when she was herself again, was only a vague, fading
hope now. He didn't even think about it for more than a second or two at a
time. Still, Sutter was not a man to cut off any possibility if he could avoid
it.

They walked a little farther before
turning back. "Do you think you are ready? Or do you need a little more
time here?"

"No," she said. "I am
ready." She turned and looked him straight in the eye. "Ready for the
cabin—and ready for what will take place here before I leave."

"You have understood what they have
been building?"

"Not all of it. But
I
know it has to do with John
Alexander."

Sutter sighed. "Yes. It is
time."

"I
know it is. I feel it, even though I also dread it. In whatever way is their
custom. You see, they are the only people
I
feel even remotely close to now—besides you."

After she slept again, Sutter waited
until
Solana
dressed
and then guided her to the clearing where Miwokan and the rest were waiting.
There were two circles, the men in the forefront and the women behind them.
Clustered in groups at the edge of the woods, the children watched wide-eyed
and silent. The men were painted. Stripes, sworls, and dots of vegetable dye
covered their faces and bodies. Both men and women wore pungent mugwort leaves
in their ears. Despite the cold they were all barefoot. The men had on only
breechcloths. All but Miwokan, whose shoulders were draped with the skin of a
bear.

Sutter steadied her as they walked to the
foot of the small pyramid, where Miwokan stood waiting. It was close to sunset,
and the dark shadows of the trees blanketed the clearing. No one spoke or made
a sound as Sutter and Esther took their places behind Miwokan.

From the far end of the village Esther
heard the fire shaman cry out a wailing, mournful succession of notes. The two
circles immediately followed the sound with a continuous, low, sadly melodic
contrapuntal chant.
Solana
joined
the fire shaman when he reached the edge of the circle and came through it,
cradling a small rabbit-skin pouch in his arms. He gave it to
Solana,
and she moved slowly forward. The rain
and snake shamans came forward, and the pouch was passed to them, hand to hand,
then back to
Solana,
and
finally to Miwokan. He turned and offered it to Esther. The contrasting feel of
the soft fur and the rigid little body inside made Esther dizzy for a moment,
but she bit hard on the end of her tongue and recovered. Sutter gestured for
her to carry it up to the platform. She turned, and both Sutter and Miwokan
supported her elbows as she climbed the crude steps.

On the high platform she saw a wooden
eating bowl filled with acorn meal, thatched green perennial leaves cupping
portions of dried meat, and a deep shell filled with water. A mat of dry
grass-fibers lay centered on it. Esther turned to Miwokan, and he nodded. She
lay the rabbit-skin pouch down on the mat and stared at it. Miwokan touched her
arm, and she turned to him again. He was holding a small, painstakingly carved
spear no longer than the rabbit skin itself. He gave it to her, nodded, and she
placed it beside her son.

At the base of the pyre,
Solana
waited for them with a long knife. She
embraced Esther and gently, unthreateningly, began to tilt her head down.
Sutter held out an arm and shook his head, but Esther silently put her fingers
to his lips for a few seconds and then, submitting to
Solana,
bent down and let her hair fall forward
until it touched the ground. Strand by strand,
Solana
gathered and cut it off to a length of
two inches at a point near the base of Esther's skull. When she was finished,
she lifted Esther's face and kissed both her cheeks.

The
fire shaman brought two torches. Miwokan looked to the west and waited until
the sun was just a sliver of pale orange behind the line of hills. He passed a
torch to Esther and pointed to each corner of the structure. Slowly, she
circled the pyre with Sutter at her side, dipping the torch and lighting small
clusters of twigs. When she was finished, Miwokan held both torches toward the
sunset and then threw them through a small opening into the center of the pyre.
Taking Esther's hand, he turned and led her toward the concentric circles. They
expanded, the men and women retreating gradually as the fire snapped and took
hold. She rocked backward once, as they stood watching the flames leap and then
rush upward, but Sutter caught her and kept his arm around her waist. She
started to swoon again. But then she purposely thought of Mosby's part in this,
and her hatred for him steeled her and stopped the scene from spinning before
her eyes. Within minutes the pyre was an enormous torch pointing toward the
sky, consuming the platform and its contents. John Alexander Todd had been laid
to rest. And with him the last reminder of a life turned to ashes. From this
moment, too, Elizabeth Purdy Todd ceased to exist, she thought. A tower of
white smoke rose straight toward the first visible stars, then drifted westward
on the downwind toward the sun beyond the hills.
Yes, let that life, and
Elizabeth Purdy Todd, drift away with the smoke,
she said to herself, tears
brimming as she thought of Alex. She forced herself not to cry, to put it
behind her. From this instant there is only Esther Cable... Esther... Cable...

She remembered little of the abandoned
dancing, the singing, the music played on crude flutes, whistles, rattles, and
foot drums. Sutter had given her a large dollop of the first spirits she had
ever tasted. It burned her throat going down, but it lent a warmth to the
numbness that mercifully took hold of her as she watched the pyre collapse in a
shower of sparks and smoke. She asked for more, then drank a third time. She
stayed with them around the village fires for some time, chewed feebly on bits
of venison and squirrel meat passed to her, but she was already nearly asleep.
When she finally passed out, Sutter carried her to Miwokan's hut, covered her,
and waited a few minutes to be sure the noise would not arouse her. As he
walked back to the ritual feast and rejoicing for the child's journey to the
sky, he marveled at Esther's courage and endurance. It was no wonder she had
managed to walk down out of the mountains alone.

In the morning, before they left, he
stood next to her on the lip of the ice as she scattered John Alexander's ashes
at the waterfall.