Walks the Fire (12 page)

Indeed, Lord,
she thought,
what am I that you should think of me? Yet you have always been there for me. When little Jacob died, you gave me comfort through Homer. And when I felt that I had lost everything you put me in the tepee of Rides the Wind. Truly, Lord, you have cared for me, but in such unexpected ways! And now, Lord, what am I to do? There is no minister, there will never be. Is there some way?

Jesse raised up on one elbow to look into the face of the sleeping child. He was different from the child she had yearned for, and yet his existence had, in many ways, given her back her sanity and her faith in a loving God.
Surely, Lord, there is a way.

From across the tepee she sensed the presence of Rides the Wind. His actions had proven that he cared for her. Now, as she lay in his tepee, she realized that she felt at home.
Adam and Eve had no minister, Lord. If I read from your Word
—
if we shared vows
—
could you not bless us, Lord?

Quietly she padded across the darkened interior of the tepee toward Rides the Wind. The embers of the fire cast her shadow on the skins of the hide walls. Her foot inadvertently kicked his parfleche. Rides the Wind was instantly on his feet, knife in hand, a cry of warning in his throat. It died there as he gazed into Jesse’s eyes. She smiled stupidly and shrugged her shoulders in embarrassment.

From across the tepee Two Mothers whimpered a moment, then quieted. Flames blazed up from the fire to light the interior. Still, Rides the Wind gazed at Jesse,

In a rush she realized that a chance for unspeakable happiness stood before her. Inspired words came to mind,

And the Lord God said, It is not good that the man should be alone;

I will make him an help meet fit for him… And the Lord God… made… a woman, and brought her unto the man… Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife, and they shall be one flesh.

As the words sounded in Jesse’s heart, uncertainty fell away. She whispered to Rides the Wind. “I think that if there is no minister, God would understand. As long as he is part of the celebration. As long as everyone knows that the man and the woman promise for life—to be joined—in his name.”

Moving closer to him she leaned against his chest. His heartbeat quickened as they stood together. His skin was warm. He put one arm about her waist and stroked her short hair. Reaching down to pick up his own buffalo robe, Rides the Wind wrapped her in it and held her close, whispering, “We will find a way to please God, Walks the Fire.”

Abruptly he dropped the buffalo robe and backed away. “I cannot stay here longer tonight,” he said. Grabbing his weapons, he fled outside.

The next morning the entire village woke to see Rides the Wind leading Red Star toward his tepee. The mare’s mane and tail had been braided and about her neck was a garland of sunflowers.

Prairie Flower ran quickly across the compound, a white bundle clutched in her arms. She jumped in front of the tepee door.

“Rides the Wind—you wait here!” she ordered as she disappeared inside. Jesse heard the words just as she finished feeding Two Mothers.

Prairie Flower giggled and announced, “There is a Lakota brave outside with a pony. He means to carry you away, but I have told him he cannot, for you are not ready. You must wear these things.” She hesitated and made an apology. “They were not made for you—as is our custom—but still, they are beautiful.”

Jesse caught her breath as Prairie Flower unrolled the bundle to reveal her own elaborately decorated wedding dress and leggings. From across the tepee, Old One called, “I was preparing your dress, Walks the Fire, but my son is impatient. He woke me this morning and said there was to be a feast today… for he would take you as his wife.”

Prairie Flower interjected, “So you see, Walks the Fire, your heart sings when he is near, and his heart answers the song. You did not believe me, but it is true.”

The women helped Jesse get dressed and led her out the door of the tepee. Rides the Wind lifted her onto Red Star’s back and prepared to lead her through the village. Suddenly, she slid down again and hid her face against his shoulder whispering, “I cannot.”

He misunderstood. The village had gathered in anticipation, and now he flushed with embarrassment. Jesse pulled him inside the tepee.

“You do not wish to be my wife?” he asked brusquely.

“I do! But to be led before the entire village… to have everyone watching…” Jesse wrapped her arms about the broad shoulders. “I have given you my heart. But I cannot tell the village how I feel. It is in here,” she put his open palm over her heart. “It is for
you
to know. It is not for
them.”
She stared up at him, her eyes pleading.

Rides the Wind stepped outside, and she heard him say, “You saw when Walks the Fire came to the village. I brought her on my pony as a warrior brings what he takes from his enemy. I brought her to care for the son of Dancing Waters. I brought her to teach me about the God who created all things. She has done this. She has saved Hears Not. She has earned a place among the people. Today I tell you she is no longer only the woman who tends the fire in the tepee.
Mitawicu.
I take this woman for wife.”

There were murmurs of approval.

Rides the Wind continued, “I will hunt for many days. There will be a feast.”

He came back inside and reached for Jesse. “Now the people are satisfied. We follow the custom. What can we do to please God?”

Jesse reached for the Bible. Turning to Genesis, she read the creation of man and woman. Turning to Ephesians she read the duties of husband and wife.

Last, she turned to Ruth, reading the beloved passage:

“Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God: Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried.”

When she had finished, Rides the Wind demanded that she repeat it. Three times he asked her to repeat the passage. Then, setting the Bible aside, he took her hands in his own and said, never taking his eyes from hers:

Where Walks the Fire goes, there will I go. Where Walks the Fire lodges, there will I lodge. Her people shall be my people. Her God shall be my God.

Looking up, he said, “God who created all things. I thank you for sending Walks the Fire. I take her as my wife. I ask you to be pleased. You make all things. You make her heart sing for me. You make my heart answer back. You give your Son to die for us. We have no min-is-ter, but you know us. We are Lakota. We are husband and wife. We are yours.”

Thus Rides the Wind and Walks the Fire were joined in holy matrimony. And there was no minister, but God was there. And he was pleased. And the two became one.

A few days after their wedding celebration, Jesse padded across the tepee to scoop up a whimpering Two Mothers. Returning to Rides the Wind’s bed, she covered herself with his buffalo robe. Two Mothers lay between them, eating noisily until he fell back to sleep. Jesse lay awake, listening to morning. Propped up on one elbow she gazed down at the cinnamon-colored face beside her, stroking the soft cheek. In a rush of emotion she leaned down to kiss the smooth forehead, inhaling the scent of the child.

“What is this strange touch?”

With a start Jesse realized that Rides the Wind had awakened. He lay watching her closely. Feeling shy she pulled the buffalo robe up under her chin, answering softly, “My people say ‘kiss.’“

“And who gives this ‘kiss’?”

“Parents to children, husband to wife.”

“Show me.” As he said it he leaned toward her. Jesse obediently placed a kiss upon the wind-hardened cheek.

He kept his face near hers and the dark eyes searched hers. Then a knowing smile curled up the edges of his mouth. “When Marcus Whitman met with Running Bear and the traders, Rides the Wind was there. I saw many things. I saw this touch you call ‘kiss’ between man and woman. It was not here,” he tapped his cheek, “but here.” His finger indicated his mouth.

Jesse felt her face flush and wondered if the early morning light revealed her embarrassment. She assented, “Yes, for some it is so.”

“Did Jesse King and Homer King touch in this way?”

Jesse looked hard into the searching eyes. They returned her stare with honest interest. “My people do not speak of these things.”

Rides the Wind was quiet for a moment, pondering her response. “If the white man speaks not of what is here,” he laid a hand flat upon the tawny chest, “he must be very sad.” Rides the Wind dressed and went outside.

Light was streaming through the door now, and Old One had risen to stir up the fire and begin the morning meal before he returned. Jesse dressed and went outside. Leaning over the creek she washed her face. She didn’t hear Rides the Wind approach, but as the ripples in the water smoothed out she started to see his face looking down into the water beside her own.

He sat back on the earth awkwardly, folding his crooked leg under him. Jesse noticed a pouch in his hand. It was ornately beaded, obviously the work of a skilled woman. Seeing her eyes upon it, Rides the Wind opened it, taking out the contents and arranging them carefully upon the grass.

First, he picked up two bone needles. “Dancing Waters used these to decorate the cradle board of the child to come.” He laid them back and held up a digging tool.

“While Rides the Wind hunted, she used this to gather food.”

Jesse asked, “What happened to her?” She watched his face intently as he prepared to answer. It revealed nothing of his feelings.

He replied, “When the child came she was silent. We did not know how it hurt her. Old One cared for her well, but she did not rise again.”

After a moment Jesse moved to return to the tepee, but Rides the Wind stopped her. Lifting the last item from the pouch he stood behind her and began to comb her short hair. Then, from another pouch laced to the belt about his waist, he produced a strange sort of woven headband, decorated with feathers and shells. He wrapped it about her head.

Jesse submitted to his ministrations, grateful for any way to hide her singed hair. When Rides the Wind had finished, he placed the tools back in their pouch and handed it to her. Taking the small knife that hung about his neck off, he put it over her head.

“When Dancing Waters was Rides the Wind’s woman, these things belonged to her. Now they are Walks the Fire’s.”

Jesse leaned over the water again to see her newly done hair. At the strangeness of the reflection she laughed a short, embarrassed giggle.

Rides the Wind inquired harshly. “Does Walks the Fire find my gift so?”

She turned to see hurt in the dark eyes, although his jaw was tense with apparent anger. A shadow had appeared under each cheekbone.

“No,” she protested. Laying a hand on his arm, she felt the muscles relax.

Looking across the creek to the distant hills, Jesse took a deep breath and began to speak of things she had never shared with another human.

“It is that Rides the Wind has made me feel as I never felt among my people. “I…” she bit her lip and could not continue. Seeing smoke rise from the air hole in the tepee she said, “Old One cooks. Two Mothers may need me.”

“Old One will not expect you back so soon.” As Jesse began to protest about Two Mothers, he added, “He will wait. Now you speak of how it is with your people.”

His gentle urging opened a flood of memories, and Jesse struggled to organize her thoughts. Then she began again, “I am not one to speak of these things. It is hard for me. I laughed because you have made me feel beautiful. And yet I know that I am not. When the time came for me to marry, men did not come seeking.” Her face flushed with the admission, and her voice trembled with shame as she blurted out, “Homer King only took me because my sister refused him. He needed a woman to help him on the way west. When Betsy said no, he asked me. My pa was glad for a chance to get me married off. That’s how I became Mrs. Homer King.”

Once finished she looked up at him defiantly. “I know I am not beautiful. I laughed at myself for thinking such impossible things.”

Rides the Wind was quiet for so long that she wondered if her rush of words had overreached his abilities in English. But then he turned his own face to the horizon so that she could view only his profile.

“When Rides the Wind was young, he danced about the fire like no other brave. It was then that Dancing Waters came to be his woman. She would watch, and her eyes danced with the flames. But one day Rides the Wind went to hunt. His pony fell and crushed his leg. Marcus Whitman fixed the leg, but it would not grow straight. Rides the Wind could dance no more. The fire died in the eyes of Dancing Waters.” He encircled her with his arms before continuing. “Walks the Fire sees Rides the Wind when he walks like the wounded buffalo. She sees, but the fire does not die in her eyes. Beautiful is in here,” he placed his hand over her heart. “So do not laugh when you think you are beautiful. Rides the Wind sees the fire in your eyes. And to him, you are beautiful.”

Jesse reached for his hand and, holding it palm up, she kissed it.

He growled, “… and so you give me more of the white man’s ways.”

In a moment of uncharacteristic abandon, Jesse stood on tiptoe and placed a less-than-chaste kiss upon the mouth of her husband. She smiled in spite of the resulting blush on her cheek, reaching up to tug childishly on his flowing hair.

Then, to his delight and amazement she spoke the Lakota words:
“Mihigna
—my husband—Walks the Fire is an obedient wife. If he wishes her to stop this strange touch, he must tell her. Walks the Fire will obey.”

Rides the Wind took her hand, and they started back to the tepee. As they climbed the hill together he replied, “Many of the white man’s ways must be forgotten to live among my people… but not all.”

Twelve

Fret not thyself because of evil men… For there shall be no reward to the evil man; the candle of the wicked shall be put out.
—
Proverbs 24:19–20