Destiny Mine (8 page)

Taysinga…She was the only other
tiva
who resented her change in life and who loved a man. If she could get them together, it would solve many problems. If not, Taysinga would dislike her even more. Perhaps the woman was not to blame for hating to hunt and for being afraid of powerful warriors, as Taysinga did do her first task with acceptable skill. Perhaps she should not fault Taysinga for acting like a female on occasion.

Kionee went to her tipi and sought sleep to ease her mind. Kind slumber came to free her and give her strength for the hunt in the morning and for watch duty the next evening.

An early awakening full moon appeared low in the sky, faint against a pale-blue background. As Kionee watched it from her guard position, she counted the
days until their move to the grasslands: twenty-one or less. The journey would be lengthy and slow. Once they reached Thunder Basin, the hunt would be rewarding. Perhaps with all tribes doing the same task, the Crow and Night Walker would be too busy to—

Kionee’s gaze widened in astonishment as she watched Stalking Wolf ride toward her hiding place, heading in a direct line to the Hanueva camp. He sat straight and alert on his mount, as if he sensed eyes on him. Even so, he continued along his chosen path. Yet she knew he was not careless, only confident.

An open-throat shirt exposed the sun-bronzed skin of his muscular chest. His long hair was golden brown with two thin sections braided near his handsome face and secured behind his head. Two eagle feathers dangled downward from where the braids joined, and they fluttered in the wind. A medicine pouch was suspended around his neck and peeked from beneath his buckskin shirt which was adorned with tiny locks of enemy hair that signified he had performed a great deed for his tribe or shown enormous courage and victory in battle. The red stripes on his leggings revealed he was a member of the Dog-Men Society, the largest and most powerful group of his people. Tiny hairlocks also decorated them, declaring he had been a “dog-rope” wearer in the past; not only a sash wearer, she realized, but one of the two of four bravest men selected for that position for the span of a circle of seasons. While holding that high rank, one had to be last to leave the battlefield. To be a sash wearer was an honor and a terrible danger. It would be a big coup for an enemy to slay one and to steal his treasures. Was there no end, she mused, to Stalking Wolfs valor and deeds? Was there a man anywhere to compare with him?

She continued to observe him. A bow and quiver case rested upon his broad back. He rode a tall and sleek
snow-colored stallion whose name she recalled as White Cloud; he led another horse whose markings and burdens revealed its purpose was for carrying his possessions. She studied his face with strong and perfect features. He was a virile and magnificent creature, a man of elite prowess. Her heart lurched in excitement as he came closer.

Then something startling caught her eye as he shifted its position: he was carrying his war shield uncovered, and its design almost matched that of her ceremonial one! A large black wolf’s head was painted in the center with white elk horns painted across its forehead and its nose. Several arrowheads, a weasel skin, eagle feathers, and grizzly claws were attached near the edges in various locations. She noted there were only a few differences between their shields: her skin was ermine; her feathers, hawk; and her claws were dew from the deer. How strange, she thought, that their patterns would be so similar…

After composing herself and ordering Maja to remain hidden, Kionee stepped into view, and he halted. She watched his tawny gaze sweep over her and the lowered weapon, an arrow-nocked bow. He urged his horse to within two arms’ lengths of her. His smile and nearness caused her heart to beat faster and her wits to scatter. Why, she worried, did he or any man have such an effect on her, a
tiva?
How could she halt these wild and forbidden emotions? Why did he evoke such conflicting reactions: happiness and anguish, anticipation and reluctance, fear and courage?

“Haahe. Na-hoe-hoohtse,”
Stalking Wolf said.

She listened to him greet her and say he had come to visit, but she was so filled by disbelief and questions that her tongue did not move.

When the Hanueva remained silent and watchful, Stalking Wolf said, “Kionee, son of Strong Rock, it is
good to see you, my friend and ally.” When the hunter still did not speak, he asked, “Do you not remember me, our elk hunt, and battle with three Crow?”

She had to compose herself again, but was pleased he recalled her and her mask pattern. She hoped her voice and expression did not expose her emotions as she questioned, “Why have you come to visit, Stalking Wolf, when it nears the sun to ride to the grasslands to hunt buffalo?”

“I must speak with your chief and council. Our shaman’s visions say trouble is in the wind. My father and our council sent me to smoke the peace pipe with Hanuevas and to help your people escape the Crow.”

Kionee glanced behind him and queried, “You come alone?”

He nodded and replied,
“Heehee.”

“You are a great warrior and son of a great leader, and Cheyenne are known for their large skills in fighting and raiding, but how can one man hold back a flock of Bird Warriors if they fly to our land to attack?”

“I have battled as one man in past suns as a sash wearer and not been defeated. I do not fear them, or death with honor. I walk the sacred path. I seek
Maheoo’s
guidance, approval, and protection in all things. As long as Our People follow
Maheoo
and Sweet Medicine’s prophecy and keep our Four Sacred Arrows, we will survive and gather victory over enemies. Our shaman’s vision from
Maheoo
told him how to save your people, and we have been commanded to do so. I was chosen as
Maheoo
’s shield and weapon.”

“It is true you are brave and strong and skilled, for you bear those marks and symbols, and they are many. But your presence may endanger us if Crow learn you are here. What greater coup can a Crow earn than to defeat Stalking Wolf? We are a people of harmony; we are hunters, not warriors or raiders. We fight only to
defend our camp and tribe: all know this and most leave us in peace.”

“The season of peace is gone forever, Kionee. You know this, for you stand guard against raids. I will speak my words to your chief and council; you can resist them there. I ride to your camp. Do you come with me?”

“I will go with you.” She summoned Maja from the bushes.

The Cheyenne watched the silver animal join Kionee, its golden eyes never leaving his face. The wolfs ears were erect, but the ruff on its neck was calm. There was a controlled power and fearlessness about the creature. His strong shoulder grazed Kionee’s legging when he halted, as if he needed the contact. The Hanueva’s gaze was filled with respect and love as his fingers stroked the wolf’s head. It was as if the two shared an emotional and spiritual bond. “It is good to see you, Maja, my friend and symbol of my animal helper,” Stalking Wolf said. “Come, we go.”

With Kionee and Maja walking beside the white stallion, Stalking Wolf rode to the Hanueva camp along the river in a lovely and sheltered canyon. Excitement and suspense engulfed him as he headed to fulfill the sacred visions and to find his true destiny.

S
O THAT EVERYONE COULD
hear and see to the best advantage, the voting members of the Hanueva tribe met in a large clearing away from the women and children and their noisy activities. Several hundred hunters and a group of over forty
tivas
sat in a circle around their chief, shaman, eight council members, and their unexpected guest. It was their way for the ten leaders to govern the tribe, but all hunters possessed a vote, with the majority controlling the decision. Usually, most of the band followed the leaders’ advice.

“It is a great honor to welcome the son of Big Hump to our camp.”

Stalking Wolf thanked the chief and said, “I have brought good words and hard words for the ears and hearts of the Hanueva.”

“Speak them, our friend and ally,” Bear’s Head gave him permission to address his people without interruption.

“Soon all tribes go to seek the buffalo, Giver of Life. Before that sun rises, enemies grow restless and eager to raid for horses and captives, to renew their fighting skills as Mother Earth renews her face, and to strike the first coups of a new season. All know how the Crow values his tribal rank: a position in his chosen society and
leadership among his people depend upon his prowess on the battlefield and success in gathering coups and many possessions. In suns past, Crow did not attack Hanueva in large parties, only in small numbers and in secret. That will not be true this season, for they no longer view the Hanueva as weak and unworthy and having great magic which cannot be defeated or stolen.”

“Is that not what I told you, my father and people?” Night Walker heatedly reminded him.

“Silence, my son! Do not ride into another’s words.”

“I am sorry, Father, but my anger against them and a fear for my people’s survival and safety stole my tongue.”

“Speak, Stalking Wolf, and all must be silent until he is quiet.”

The Cheyenne nodded gratitude to Bear’s Head, and made a mental note to keep a watchful eye and ear on the chiefs disquieting son. “The shaman of my tribe, Medicine Eyes, saw things—good and bad—in two sacred visions. Many moons past, he sent me to the holy Wheel to make offerings to the Great Spirit and to fulfill part of his first vision.
Maheoo
placed my feet on a path to seek my true destiny. He says the slayer of my parents still lives and it is my duty to find and punish him; his face has not been revealed to us to this sun, but it belongs to a Crow.”

When the Hanueva looked confused, he explained, “Big Hump was my grandfather until he took me as his son after my parents were killed. I am to remain with your tribe and to help you reach the buffalo grounds alive and unharmed. He says one among you is destined for a great deed among Our People and that Hanueva must be protected.” Stalking Wolf did not think it necessary to mention he was also to find his mate before the next snows came, according to the vision. “There are those among the Crow who no longer honor and obey
the words of their past shaman’s vision about the Hanueva; Calls-On-Spirits is dead, and his power over them is vanishing as mist beneath a hot sun. Medicine Eyes saw many Bird Warriors flying to attack Hanueva if we cannot trick them into retreating or shoot them from their land skies.” When Stalking Wolf paused to see if the chief or shaman wanted to ask any questions, he noticed Kionee’s keen attention on him, and an odd sensation danced over his body and teased through his mind.

“How do you know Calls-On-Spirits is dead?” Spotted Owl asked.

Stalking Wolf focused on the shaman. “As I rode from the great Wheel, I found his resting place. His tipi sat alone on the land between the mountains. It was painted with many colors. He was wrapped in a yellow robe, bound with sinew, and placed where he took his last breath of air, as is their way. The tipi entrance was sewn, but I cut the strips and looked inside. He waits for the forces of Nature and the spirits to claim his body.”

“We sent men to speak of peace to the three Crow bands, but only those from Long Hair and Red Plume returned. The others must have been slain,”

“Chief Long Hair honors his word not to attack Hanueva, only to fight Lakotas and Blackfoot. Red Plume honors his truce with Hanueva. It is not so for the band of Swift Crane; he does not wish to fight with Hanueva, but many of his warriors do, and it is their right by leadership of high rank. If his life is taken, those who desire war will control the tribe; that is bad. To survive, Hanueva must ally, travel, and camp with Cheyenne.”

Kionee’s cousin responded to their guest, “Eight Crow warriors attacked one of our hunting parties eight suns past, and five Hanueva defeated them, killed all except the coward who fled in fear of their skills.”

“But two of our hunters were slain in that attack, Little Weasel,” Strong Rock pointed out. “Tall Eagle and Sumba. If Kionee had not struck death blows to five, others would be walking in the stars. I do not wish my son to face more Crow with blood lust in their eyes, for they number many.”

“We have almost three hundred trained fighters; we can defeat them.”

“That number is less than those in one Crow society, Night Walker, and the Crow have many among them,” Stalking Wolf reasoned. “It is unwise to challenge them to war. So it is true with Our People; we have many societies whose members number more than all the hunters of your tribe.”

“Why did your father and council not send us many warriors to help?” Spotted Owl queried.

“That was not in Medicine Eyes’s vision, and it would be viewed by Crow as a war challenge. The last vision says Stalking Wolf and the chosen Hanueva will trick the Crow and defeat their hunger for horses and captives. We will clear a path for your people to reach mine in safety.”

“How will we trick the Bird Warriors?”

Stalking Wolf noticed the excitement in Night Walker’s voice as those words were spoken. It was obvious to him that the loosely bridled spirit of a warrior lived in the chiefs son, but it was a dark and dangerous one. The same appeared true for the man sitting beside him, Little Weasel, a man also eager to fight for the wrong reasons. Yet, news of Kionee’s glorious deeds amazed and impressed him; that was the hunter who should ride with him soon.

“That will be revealed to us when the time is right,” Stalking Wolf answered. “I am to live and travel with the Hanueva, to conceal myself among you, until camp is broken. On that day, two groups will leave this place
for the buffalo grounds. Most will travel away from the cold wind land, round the mountains, and go toward the Medicine Bow Forest. Near it, they will travel along the banks of the river until it bends toward Cheyenne land. They will journey then into the grasslands and camp near Our People in the Basin of Thunder. Stalking Wolf and three Hanuevas will ride northward along the Big Horn River to where it is Ten Sleeps to the shooting water and bubbling earth kettles land. There, we part and take separate trails. One party of two will journey over the mountain and canyon passes to the summer camping location. The other party will journey over the mountains and along the three forks of the big rivers and meet your people as they near the Medicine Bow Forest. The scouts will watch for Crow and halt any raids. We will find their tracks and see where they go to camp to hunt buffalo, for it is best to know where the enemy lives.”

The worried chief said, “We have been a people of peace since being placed on this land by the Creator. We respect
Atah
’s land and do not waste His creatures. That is our way. Once we challenge Swift Crane’s band and make an enemy of it, the conflicts between us will not end until we are destroyed or captured. We must wait and pray for peace to continue. The Bird Warriors will weary of coupless rides and cast their hungry gazes on those who can feed them.”

“That will not come to pass, Bear’s Head. The one who escaped the battle with Kionee and the other hunters will tell his friends of their skills; they will return for revenge and to regain the fallen ones’ honor. Your people have proven they are worthy opponents with great medicine to steal.”

“He is right, Father,” Night Walker urged. “You must hear his words and follow them.”

“To the death and suffering of many, my son?”

“If it must be. Only
Atah
can choose the sun we join Him. I am ready to battle for my people. I will ride behind my brother, Gray Fox, or I will lead our warriors if he is needed in camp to protect our chief and people.”

“Your heart burns with wild fires I do not understand, my son. I fear they will consume you and those who follow you.”

The shaman said in a reverent tone, “An owl whispered to me in a dream last night, my chief and people;
Atah
’s messenger told me a cunning and powerful wolf would come to lead us to safety. I believe that sign and leader are here. This Cheyenne comes on a full moon to enlighten us. I say we listen and obey his words.”

“You speak for war, Spotted Owl?” the chief asked in disbelief.

“No, I speak for trickery and survival, as does Stalking Wolf. We must not ride into the large nest of Bird Warriors, but we must not allow them to take our land or steal our women and children for slaves and mates. It is against our law to join with those outside our tribe, even by force.”

Stalking Wolf was pleased with the shaman’s first words, but troubled by his last ones. If a female was taken captive, she had no power to resist her owner’s desires and would suffer great harm or die for doing so. Was it not better, he mused, for her to obey to be able to escape and return home? Afterward, revenge could be taken for her abuse.

“We must continue our guards and watch our camp and horses with eyes like the eagle’s and hawk’s. We must practice to be ready to fight. We will prove to the Crow and others we are not afraid or weak. We will not allow them to steal our land and possessions or capture our people. We must not beg for what is ours to use from
Atah;
we must prove we are worthy to keep it within our grasp. We must resist and fight as brave and
honorable men, or run and hide and die as the weaklings Crow say we are.”

“Night Walker speaks wise and true,” Little Weasel concurred. “We must use our courage, cunning, and skills to battle them; that is why the High-Guardian gave them to us. Where is our pride if we do nothing to defend our families and ways?”

As the men talked for and against resistance and challenge, Kionee studied their guest. His life was so unlike hers. His people were warriors and often raiders. They joined societies, with each having its own rituals and rules. They had a tribal council of forty-four minor chiefs and one head chief. They possessed four Sacred Arrows with special ceremonies to ensure the Cheyenne’s survival. Though the Cheyenne worshipped at Medicine Wheel, their most sacred location was in the Black Hills, claimed to be the home of the Holy Ones, their spirits. They honored the sun and faced their tipis to its rising face as a reminder that their god sent its heat and light to make things grow and to symbolize their own enlightenment. They endured agonizing rites where they offered bits of their flesh to the sun during a great dance after the buffalo season. Without viewing his chest, Kionee knew Stalking Wolf had done the Sun Dance because of the bloodred plume attached to the feathers on his thin braids. Whether one agreed or not with that harsh custom, it proved he possessed enormous stamina and courage.

All males over fifteen winters were members of their warrior rank, but each had to seek a vision to receive his name and signs, and must prove himself in battle and be chosen to join a society. When the Cheyenne rode into a great battle, their chief always led them, and no man dared to place his horse beyond Big Hump’s unless given permission for an important reason. As chief, Big Hump was the one to perform the Great Medicine Ceremony
and was Keeper-of-the-Sacred Arrows, which made his life and those objects the targets of enemies. But few bands were rash enough to attack a large and strong Cheyenne camp, even to recover captives.

Kionee believed it was wrong to steal people—especially women and children—from their families and way of life. The Hanueva did not need slaves to do their work for them, and did not cause the sufferings of others.

Yet, there were many similarities between the two peoples. Both worshipped the Creator of all things, even if they used different names for Him. Both tribes were hunters, their main prey the buffalo which provided meat, hides, and various other needs. They respected Mother Earth, their families, their tribe, and their laws; and defended those things to the death if necessary.

The way they governed themselves was also similar. All warriors had a vote in the tribe’s affairs. Both councils made suggestions, but the members decided which path to ride. With the Cheyenne, the chiefs of the societies spoke with its members to gather their feelings and thoughts on a matter, then those chiefs told the council their desires, which were always accepted. Even so, most honored the head chief’s, shaman’s, and council’s wisdom and words.

Careful to conceal her interest Kionee continued to appraise Stalking Wolf. His eyes were a mixture of brown and yellow, not as dark as most Indians’. His skin was also different. Even his features were not as sharp and large as those of other Cheyenne she had observed. It was as if he were not all Indian, as if one parent were not Indian; yet how could that be true of the son or daughter of a chief? Perhaps she would learn the truth later. It did not matter to her, for she admired this unusual male.

Kionee was forced to halt her perusal when she was asked about the name she had heard during the fight with the eight Crow. “The enemy who buried his knife in my friend’s heart spoke of a warrior called One-Eye,” she revealed. “He said they will prove to others ‘it is not bad medicine to slay those with painted faces.’ They have feared our masks and magic in past suns; that time lives no longer. I took revenge for Sumba, as you did for your friends.”

“What of their horses and possessions, Kionee?”

“We left the warriors where they fell. We gathered our arrows, removed our tracks, and left no clues to their slayers.”

“What of the one who escaped and will reveal your deed?”