Destiny's Bride (27 page)

Lone Eagle laughed. “I care for each equally for I never know which I will need to ride.”

Her cheeks warmed, and she quickly glanced around, making sure no one overhead. “Oh, you and your thoughts! But since we’re discussing your treasured animals, I’ve been meaning to ask, how many horses would you have offered my father for my hand?”

He turned and lead his stallion away. “I could never own enough,” He called over his shoulder.

“Did you hear that, Two Clouds?” She directed her words to the cradleboard on her back. “I’m worth all the horses in the world and more.”

Cecile returned and joined the women in their communal sewing effort.

***

The days on the plains passed much the same as those in her mountain home. Cecile still did her own same chores, but now she shared in the tribal duties. Feeling more accepted, she joined in work groups—it was the Sioux way. Scraping hides and drying meat with other women made the tasks much more enjoyable. Of course, she still managed to spend time with Rain Woman every day.

“Hello, Un`ci.  I’ve come for my daily language lesson,” Cecile accepted the invitation to enter once she had announced herself.  She freed her son from his cradleboard and laid him on a buffalo robe.  He kicked his legs and cooed.

“My heart fills with joy to see you and Two Clouds. Where is your handsome husband off to today?”

“He joined with a few friends to hunt. They hope to find signs of the buffalo.”

Rain Woman’s bones creaked when she straightened from tickling the baby.   “It will be a good day when we hunt for buffalo. Now is the time to replenish our food stores. Most of the pemmican from last year is gone and the berries we mix with the meat are nearly ripe. We will feast here, but we must save for the winter. It is essential to our survival.”

“Don’t worry. If anyone can find the herd, Lone Eagle can. He found Two Clouds, didn’t he?”

The old woman grinned. “Yes, I should not question the abilities of the next chief.”

Her wee one’s squirming prompted a thought. “Come, Un`ci, let’s go outside and sit by the river. Two Clouds will have more to look at while you show me more sign speaking.”

“The fresh air will do us good, granddaughter. Your lessons are important so you will be ready for the Sun Dance. There are many voices in the Indian language, but signing is one understood by all.”

Two Clouds fidgeted and whined, clearly discontent with being confined on his mother’s back, but his newly-acquired skills of rolling over, scooting around on his tummy and trying to crawl required Cecile’s constant attention. She unhooked his cradleboard and laid him in the plush grass. For the moment, he was content and happily played with his toes while she concentrated on forming words with her hands. Sometimes the old Grandmother’s hands moved so quickly, keeping up proved difficult and Cecile’s fingers moved in mad gyrations.

Bright Star came and sat on the grass next to Two Clouds. It was customary for the older children to look after the younger ones, and Bright Star had taken great interest in practicing her mothering skills on Two Clouds. Because of the young girls help, Cecile gave her full concentration to learning another new word.

***

Cecile sat in the shade and nursed Two Clouds. Her thoughts again drifted to Silver City, wondering if her mother and father knew anything at all about what had happened to her. How could they? She tried to picture her father’s reaction to finding out she lived with Indians, and decided letting go of the image was for the best as it conjured up unhappiness.

What a sheltered life she’d led. Rarely did anyone talk of those with redskin, and the few times she’d heard anything, people referred to Indians as savages. They were so wrong. Living with the Sioux, Cecile treasured life as never before. Being part of the tribe taught her new values. There was security in knowing Two Clouds was being raised with a love and understanding of all of God’s creations. The Sioux had hearts and souls, just like everyone else.

She stroked her son’s head. “Just wait till you are old enough to learn all the things your father is eager to teach you. He’ll show you how to hunt and fish. Most especially, you’ll learn to track buffalo. Oh, Two Clouds, I know you are truly white, but please learn from your Sioux father the right values. Kill only to survive and love nature. Most white hunters slaughter entire herds of buffalo just for their hides, truly showing their disregard and selfishness.  Sometimes your mother is almost ashamed to be called a paleface.”

Cecile took Two Clouds into the tepee for his nap, but stepped back outside to enjoy the pleasant feeling of spring. Flowers bloomed by the hundreds, birds tweeted in chorus from the nearby trees and a mere breeze scented the air with the aroma of fresh grass.

She stretched her arms skyward and sighed, but the sun’s reflection in the river blinded her. Averting her gaze, she turned and noticed a large crowd gathering across the compound.  Cecile motioned Bright Star over and asked her to stay with the baby while she went to check out the reason.

Angry words and agitated gestures indicated something amiss. She pressed closer and heard the heated discussion about how horses had disappeared from the herd during the night. The majority suspected a band of Crow warriors as the thieves. Their tribe was well known for raids on neighboring villages.

Cecile sidled up to Lone Eagle while the group made plans to get their animals back. A shiver of fear inched up her spine. She’d heard tales of raids, but never thought one would actually happen. Her husband often talked about counting coup, and by that she knew meant one had to get close enough to the enemy lay a hand on him. She grasped Lone Eagle’s palm as if her touch could convince him to stay.

The braves discussed the grievous mistake of keeping the herd so far from the main part of the village. Normally, the animals were kept tethered next to their owner’s tepee, but the count had grown so much, feeding them in a central area proved easier—although many called the idea unwise, and evidence proved it true.

Brown Otter had lost three of his horses in the raid.  He stepped forward, the veins in his neck visibly tensed. “It is our fault. We have become too secure with ourselves. We must have guards posted at all times.”

“We must get our horses back,” another voice called out from the crowd. “We cannot lose face with the Crow. They must be taught a lesson.”

Lone Eagle didn’t speak, but Cecile feared he agreed. Life with the Sioux had been peaceful and harmonious, and the talk of revenge scared her. The thought of her beloved riding off into a dangerous situation knotted her stomach. He was often hailed as a brave warrior , but the mere talk of fighting didn’t frighten her nearly as much as the reality. She’d already lost one husband; she couldn’t endure losing another.

***

Lone Eagle and Cecile sat in the privacy of their lodge and finished their evening meal. She scanned their home, viewing his many trophies. Till now, she’d considered them ornamentation, but now they held real meaning. “Tell me more about the things hanging on the wall. Where did they come from, and how did you earn them?”

“Many are coup feathers. Do you know the meaning?”

“Yes, I know what counting coup means, but what I don’t understand is why it’s so important.”

“To earn a coup feather is the highest honor a brave can achieve.”

“Tell me exactly how you get one. Do you really have to get close enough to touch the enemy?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.

“To touch, to kill, to wound. All are reasons to say you counted coup. But someone else must witness the deed. It is more honorable to touch the enemy rather than kill him, but sometimes you have no choice.”

“But you have so many feathers already.” How many men had he’d killed?  Though curious, she really didn’t want to know.

“The way the feathers are notched, dyed, or clipped signifies the honor. These,” he pointed, “are….”

“Oh, I don’t really need to know all the details. Why can’t we just let them have the horses? We have more. It’s not worth you getting hurt or even killed.”

“Green Eyes, please understand. Besides being a matter of honor, our horses are important. Before the Spaniards brought them to our land, our travels were difficult. We had to rely on dogs to help move our belongings. Now we have freedom to travel and hunt with ease.”

Her husband was a proud man. There was no way she could talk him out of going. All the tales of war and raids she’d listened to around the campfire had seemed like bedtime stories, but now they were becoming nightmares.

Chapter Thirty

Cecile listened to the retaliation plans unfold, her brow furrowed with worry. Singing Sparrow put her arm around Cecile’s shoulders. “Do not worry, my daughter, it is the way of the warrior,” she said. “The sacred bird for which he is named protects Lone Eagle. He, too, is swift to snatch up prey while in flight. As a warrior’s wife, you must have a strong heart and think only positive thoughts.”

The Sioux were superstitious people, believing that negative thoughts brought forth bad spirits. Unsure if their belief had merit, her mind struggled to grasp only good thoughts in case it was true. “I will try my best.”  Trying was all she could promise.

While the men congregated to plan their battle strategy, Cecile handed Two Clouds over to Bright Star and went to seek Rain Woman’s wisdom. The old grandmother sat outside her lodge, basking in the early morning sunlight.

Cecile seated herself next to Rain Woman, grasping at her arm. “Un`ci, please tell me what is going to happen, I’m frightened.”

“Do not fret, little one. The spirits will protect your husband. Our Shaman, Fallen Falcon, will perform a ritual to prepare our men for battle.”

“Shaman?”

“Yes, he takes care of the spiritual needs of our tribe as I tend to the medicinal. Going into battle with a clean mind and body is of the utmost importance, and those who participate will prepare by purifying themselves.”

A domed lodge stood not far from the village in as quiet and secluded setting as possible given the open terrain. Cecile had never seen the inside. “Tell me about the sweat lodge, Un`ci.”

“It holds only ten to twelve warriors at a time. Sage is gathered from the prairie and spread over the floor, while stones are heated in a deep pit nearby and carried inside where the Shaman pours buckets of water over them. The misty steam makes the warriors sweat, cleansing the body and soul of all imperfections and evil spirits.”

Cecile grimaced. “That doesn’t sound like something I would enjoy. Is that all that happens?”

“That is all I know, other than the smoking of the sacred pipe. The men will not discuss the ritual for fear of causing bad luck.”

The entire sweating process didn’t make sense to Cecile, but she favored anything that would protect her husband. “I shall pray for their safe return. It can’t hurt.”

Rain Woman struggled to her feet, her ancient bones creaking with the effort. “You and I must get our supplies in order in case we are called upon to tend the wounded when they return.”

Cecile shivered at the thought. As she selected the appropriate roots and salves from Rain Woman’s parfleches, Cecile flashed back to the day she first saw Lone Eagle. “I met my husband when he was near-death, and nursed him back to health. I didn’t love him then as I do now, so I’m not anxious to face that agony again.”

“Pray, my daughter, pray! The Great Spirit will listen.”

Cecile’s mind wandered as Rain Woman chattered away, telling the same stories Cecile had heard around the campfire.

I knew if we left the safety of the mountains there would be trouble.

In the seclusion of the winter camp, the tribe was safe from intruders and protected from the outside world. Although Cecile was not naive about scoundrels and misfits, her own sheltered upbringing had kept her from the harsh realities of life. She felt ill equipped to face hatred and war. She swallowed the growing lump in her throat. “Grandmother, if you don’t mind, I’ll take my leave now. I suddenly feel the need to be in the company of my husband.”

Leaving Rain Woman’s lodge, Cecile caught sight of Lone Eagle across the compound. Dressed only in his breechclout and moccasins, he wore beaded bands around his muscular biceps. His long dark hair hung in braids down his chest, and he wore a leather headband with a single feather on the side--a symbol of the bird for which he was named. Her heart quickened with pride, desire and passion for this man she loved. Her own pride surged in seeing he wore the beaded bag she made for him. If only she felt as fearless as he looked.

Her thoughts drifted to the many coup feathers in the lodge. Regardless of her feelings, the raid was going to take place and all she could do was trust God to watch over him and bring him back to her.

Chapter Thirty-one

Cecile sat in the shade of the lodge, watching Lone Eagle paint his horse with various symbols. “Tonight there will be no moon,” he said, glancing at her. “We should be able to get into the Crow camp without being seen.”