Walks the Fire (13 page)

It was spring again.
Jesse had been with Rides the Wind for two years. At last she spoke Lakota well enough to translate the Bible as she read, hoping that Old One would show an interest in the message too.

Two Mothers toddled about, jabbering as he tossed rocks into the dust. Once when he walked too close to the fire, Jesse moved quickly to scoop him up and out of harm’s way. Old One reached out to stop her. “One must learn from the bite of the fire to let it alone.”

Jesse made herself watch as Two Mothers toddled nearer and nearer the fire. Finally, one toe got too close, and he whimpered in pain. Jesse washed the burn and spread it with healing paste, being careful not to make more of the small wound than was needed. Two Mothers must learn to be brave, to withstand pain with as little complaint as possible. Someday, the survival of his people might depend on his ability to be silent in the wake of danger or discomfort.

Jesse’s friendship with Prairie Flower had grown, and Howling Wolf’s resentment of Rides the Wind continued. His wife’s friendship with Walks the Fire irritated him. The two women shared every task possible, from cleaning new buffalo skins to foraging for food. Nearly every day something happened to emphasize the difference in their husbands and, thus, the differences in their lives. Prairie Flower was stoic about her unhappy choice of a husband. She did everything in her power to keep Howling Wolf happy. She suffered his abuses without complaint and worked hard. Howling Wolf was unappreciative. Sadly, children had not come. Unable to blame his poor position in the tribe on his wife’s laziness, Howling Wolf pounced on their childlessness.

“Without sons,” he would say, “we are disgraced among the people.”

Everyone knew that Howling Wolf’s own laziness and poor disposition had earned him the poor position he held in the tribe. Still, he refused to accept responsibility. Rides the Wind tried to help him by hunting with him. They joined together with a small band of braves, riding south through the Buffalo Gap, and soon picked up the trail of a large herd of elk. They followed the trail for many days, and Howling Wolf learned by watching Rides the Wind interpret the tracks.

“The leader is wounded,” he said, showing Howling Wolf how one leg was dragging slightly as the great beast moved along.

“He was challenged by a younger buck here. See how the snow shows the great battle.”

“Do you think I know
nothing?
”
snapped Howling Wolf.

Rides the Wind refused to be drawn into a fight. “Howling Wolf, I know that you had no father to teach you. This is not your fault. If you do not know, I mean to help you. You are a fierce warrior—much better than I. You can teach me in war. I can teach you in the hunt.”

Howling Wolf was mollified, but when they neared the herd, he urged his pony to run ahead, eager to kill the biggest elk and take honor for himself. He pictured the triumphant return to the village, the women singing around the campfire.
They will sing for me,
he thought,
a song that says:

Come and see Howling Wolf,

Come and see, all who hear,

The great hunter returns,

He has captured his brother the elk,

And we all will feast,

Howling Wolf returns,

Come and see, come and see.

Howling Wolf grinned to himself at the thought of the village women honoring him with their song. He dug his heels into his pony and eagerly galloped up the hill ahead of the other riders. Rides the Wind watched him go in disgust and turned Wind back toward the Buffalo Gap.

When the others in the group called to him, he gestured angrily toward Howling Wolf, “That wolf runs like a fool. He will scatter the elk, and there will be no kill today. Let him go, I return to the village. We will all be empty-handed and our women and children will be hungry.” Rides the Wind urged Wind to gallop away toward the village.

His prediction came true. Lost in his vision of greatness, Howling Wolf charged his pony up the rise and came upon the elk herd. Surprised by their proximity, he was unprepared to shoot. The elk tore away, their breath rising from their nostrils in great puffs. Not one elk was shot that day, even though the other hunters tried to round them up for a second try. The promise of an oncoming snowstorm forced them all to give up the hunt, and they returned to the village empty-handed and tight-lipped.

The women wondered what had happened. Only Prairie Flower knew the answer, for Howling Wolf was not among those who returned in the daylight. He waited until after dark before skulking into camp and into her bed. He complained once again about the lack of sons, his lack of luck, and his unresponsive wife.

Early one morning not long after the failed hunt, Prairie Flower stepped outside her tepee to braid her own hair. Howling Wolf still slept and she was eager to join Jesse and the other women. Today they were to begin decorating new garments with beads and shells and porcupine quills. Jesse had promised to show Prairie Flower a design used from her days in the world of the whites. Prairie Flower had long admired Jesse’s abilities with a needle. For her part, Jesse welcomed the opportunity to repay Prairie Flower for her many kindnesses. If learning a new design for beadwork would please Prairie Flower, it was a small thing to do. The two women had planned to meet as early as possible so that the morning could be dedicated to their project.

As Prairie Flower faced the rising sun and braided her hair, White Eagle strolled by. He had glanced her way many times. Today he stopped. “Howling Wolf did not come to check on his ponies this morning.”

“He sleeps.”

White Eagle smirked. He reached up to touch one of her braids. “If I had such a beautiful woman in my tepee, I would not sleep while she braids her own hair.” He walked on without a backward glance. But Prairie Flower thought of him often that day. Each time his face appeared in her mind, she tried to force it away, but Howling Wolf’s insolent smile was often replaced by the handsome face of White Eagle.

Prairie Flower did poor beading that day. The village women noticed that her mind was not on her work. Jesse worried that she was ill, but Prairie Flower only shook her head when Jesse pressed her to share her thoughts.

It was the Moon When the Chokecherries Are Ripe when Rides the Wind woke Jesse one night. Laying his finger over his lips, he led her outside and onto the prairie. As they walked quietly away from the soft glow of the village fires he whispered, “You must see the sky… it is on fire.”

He pulled Jesse down beside him and they lay on their backs, all attention drawn upward. The night sky was ablaze with stars and was so clear that even the hazy band of the Milky Way was visible. Taking his wife’s hand in his, Rides the Wind whispered, “Tell me again the words from God’s Book about the heavens.”

Jesse recited,
“When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars
…
what is man, that thou art mindful of him?” As
she quoted the familiar psalm to Rides the Wind, a burst of light shot across the sky. Only seconds later, the first streak was followed by others, and the couple gasped in wonder.

The two of them had been watching for nearly an hour when Rides the Wind sat up, cocked his head to one side, and listened. Jesse heard it, too, from near the river. They rose and warily crept through the tall grass toward the sound.

When they saw the herd of ponies grazing peacefully, they both relaxed a little. The ponies would be restless if an enemy were near.

As they approached the river, the sound stopped. Then, coming from behind thick brush growing along the banks, they saw the source. White Eagle and a young squaw scurried toward the village.

Rides the Wind made no attempt to overtake the two lovers. He put his arm about his wife and led her toward their tepee at a leisurely pace.

Jesse relaxed against his arm, praising God for sending her to a man so well suited to her own nature.
He is so solemn in public,
she thought. Prairie Flower was a bit afraid of him. It made Jesse smile to see her friend, usually so outgoing and friendly, become unusually quiet and reticent around Rides the Wind. Yet, she secretly enjoyed the knowledge that part of Rides the Wind belonged only to her—and Two Mothers and Old One. The rest of the village saw only the skilled hunter, bent on providing food for the village, limping out early each morning, unable to participate in the dances of celebration, seeking no deep friendship with any other brave.

They knew that he loved to tell stories, but if they had seen him retelling his expeditions to his family, they would have been amazed. The stern face softened, the eyes crinkled with broad smiles. He delighted in entertaining his young son with tales of the hunt. Crouching on all fours, he would paw and spit like a buffalo, charging Two Mothers and making him tumble head over heels. Father and son wrestled about on their buffalo skins until Two Mothers gasped for air and begged for him to stop. Then Rides the Wind would turn to Old One, respectfully requesting her advice about some new project. For Jesse, he reserved all his tenderness. The love of God found a willing vessel in Rides the Wind, whereby it could flow to Jesse.

The morning after the meteor shower, Prairie Flower and Jesse had just begun quillwork along the front of a new elk-skin dress when Howling Wolf burst into the circle of women. Shouting and cursing, he grabbed Prairie Flower by the arm and pulled her up. Her face went pale, and she tried to pull free. Enraged, Howling Wolf slapped her across the face, shouting accusations about White Eagle.

The women scattered immediately, and Jesse ran for Rides the Wind. She found him working with a new colt. He had led the colt into chest-high water and was preparing to mount him for the first time.

Gasping for breath, Jesse cried out, “We must do something! Howling Wolf—” She gave the details, ending with a plea that Rides the Wind intervene. He continued soothing the nervous colt and made no move toward the village.

After a long silence Rides the Wind said, “It is a matter between Howling Wolf and Prairie Flower.”

Jesse protested, “But he is so angry… he may kill her!”

“I do not think that even Howling Wolf would be so foolish. Prairie Flower is a beautiful woman, and she is the only good thing that he has. He will not kill her.”

“But he slapped her so hard!”

“Yes, and that is his right. It is the way of the people.”

He slid up on the colt’s back. The colt thrashed about madly in the water, rolling its eyes and trying to rear up, but the deep water prevented it from unseating Rides the Wind. The mad splashing went on for a few moments, but not for long. The colt was intelligent, and soon realized that its rider was determined and able to stay on its back. At last it stopped thrashing about and stood, shivering, in the water. Rides the Wind slid off its back and patted its neck, whispering in the colt’s ear and patting its side until the shivering subsided and the colt stood quietly, head bowed.

Rides the Wind turned to Jesse. “Prairie Flower must decide what she will do. Howling Wolf must decide what he will do. I can do nothing. It is for them to decide.”

He ended the conversation abruptly by leading the dun colt up the bank of the river and toward the herd. Jesse bustled angrily back to her tepee.

Just as Old One had begun to explain the Lakota outlook, Prairie Flower charged into the tepee. She was howling with pain, her hands held up to her face, blood flowing between her fingers. Jesse grabbed her and pulled her bodily down onto a buffalo skin. The woman rocked and wailed with pain.

Old One instructed Jesse to hold Prairie Flower down. Jesse straddled her friend, grasping one wrist in each hand, forcing the thrashing woman’s body back with all her weight. At last, Prairie Flower lay still, trembling and crying with pain.

Old One wiped away the blood, revealing a deep gash across the bridge of Prairie Flower’s nose. Cleansing the wound, she pressed until the flow of blood had nearly stopped. Then, without a word to Prairie Flower, she got her sewing kit and did her best to close the wound. In spite of Old One’s best efforts, it was done awkwardly, and would leave a horrible scar on the once beautiful young woman’s face.

Jesse demanded, “Did Howling Wolf do this to you?”

Prairie Flower made no answer. Moaning, she turned her face to the wall of the tepee. Old One intervened.

“The husband has the right to avenge himself if his wife is unfaithful. The village has known for many moons that White Eagle planned to steal Prairie Flower away from Howling Wolf. Howling Wolf has learned of this and punished his wife.” Old One spoke the words matter-of-factly.

Jesse refused to believe it. She repeated to Prairie Flower, “Did Howling Wolf do this to you?”

Her face still turned away, Prairie Flower whispered, “Yes.”

“Then he must be punished.”

Jesse rushed outside, mounted Red Star and rode away, thinking all the while of the savagery of Howling Wolf. He must be punished. He must not be allowed to get away with this treatment of her friend.