Walks the Fire (14 page)

That evening, Prairie Flower returned to her tepee. Jesse watched while she threw everything belonging to Howling Wolf outside. “The tepee belongs to
me
!”
She shouted for the benefit of the entire village, “And I say that Howling Wolf goes!” It didn’t take long to rid the interior of every trace of Howling Wolf. The last thing Prairie Flower grabbed to throw outside was the white quilt he had brought home the day Jesse had been dragged into camp.

Prairie Flower started to throw it out, too, but something caught her eye. In the quilting she recognized the design that Jesse had been helping her bead on a new dress. Prairie Flower looked up, “Walks the Fire made this?”

Jesse nodded. Prairie Flower folded the quilt up and whispered, “Then Prairie Flower will keep.” She emptied the largest parfleche of Howling Wolfs dress regalia, threw it out the door, and put the quilt in its place. Satisfied that she was rid of her cruel husband, Prairie Flower began to prepare her supper.

“You should go now, Walks the Fire. I will never forgive Howling Wolf. But I was the crazy one who waited for him to change. My father warned me not to marry him,” she said sadly. Jesse longed to comfort her, but there were no words. At last, she returned home where she demanded, again, that Howling Wolf be punished.

Rides the Wind was impervious to her demands. “It is the way of the people,” he responded again and again. “I will not interfere. Howling Wolf did what he thought would keep his wife.”

Jesse was outraged, “And if I looked at another handsome brave, would Rides the Wind cut off my nose?”

Rides the Wind stared at her solemnly. “God’s book has said that you must be faithful to me. We do not live as Howling Wolf and Prairie Flower.” After a moment he added, “And if you were unfaithful to me, I would cut off your beautiful red hair, not your nose. For it is your hair that makes you beautiful.”

Jesse refused to be distracted from the conversation. Finally, Rides the Wind became exasperated with her insistence. “Walks the Fire, it is enough.” He was almost shouting. “You say that Howling Wolf must be punished. He will be punished. For all the days of his life he will have to look at the scar where he has hurt his wife. All the days of his life he will have to endure the sadness he has caused. And all the days of her life, Prairie Flower will remember when she was young and beautiful. White Eagle has left. It is over. We must pray for them, for they do not have God to help them. But I will not punish Howling Wolf for doing what is his right among the Lakota. He will answer to God for what he has done. He does not have to answer to me.”

Rides the Wind rose from the fire and left, returning only when he was certain everyone was asleep. But Jesse was not asleep. She lay awake for hours, praying for the power to understand her husband’s decision. At last she fell asleep with no answer to her questions.

Thirteen

… the God of all comfort… comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble.
—
2 Corinthians 1:3-4

In the tepee of Howling Wolf,
Hepzibah Miller sat shivering. It was a lovely spring day, but to Hepzibah the world had become a dark and terrifying place. She had only meant to gather a few wildflowers that morning. Rising before her family, she had dressed and slipped away from camp, thrilled by the adventure of a lone trek on the wild prairie.

“You all stay close together,” Elder Smith had warned them before they left their winter camp. “Once we leave the states, the Indians aren’t quite so peaceful. A lone white man makes an easy target. A lone woman…” Elder Smith didn’t finish his sentence. The glowering of his eyes from beneath bushy eyebrows sufficed.

Hepzibah had heard the warning as a challenge. The old urge to be free from all the rules stirred again.
Oh why,
she thought,
why can I not be meek and obedient like Melinda?
Hepzibah glanced at her lovely sister, who sat in the meeting, hands folded demurely. When Elder Smith issued his warning, Melinda flushed and bit her lower lip. Her hands clasped tightly. Melinda was frightened enough by her imagination to settle her response to the warning—as always, she would obey Elder Smith without question.

But Hepzibah met Elder Smith’s warning with a slight lift of her chin and an unblinking stare. Trying to hide the rebellious questioning in her heart, Hepzibah smiled. Elder Smith was not comforted. He made a mental note to watch this youngster carefully and to warn her father of the spiritual problem he had detected in young Hepzibah.

However, the warning was not taken too seriously by Brother Miller. Always jolly and not too pious, Brother Miller had responded, “Now, now, Ezra. Hepzibah’s young. She just hasn’t settled yet. She’ll be fine. Soon as I can get her promised to her young man she’ll settle right down.” Overwhelmed by the task of readying his large family for the trek to Utah, Brother Miller set the concerns about Hepzibah aside.

Hepzibah entered into the preparations with all her young energy. She cleaned and sorted and quilted and cooked. On the walk west she continued to bustle about, helping carry her brother Caleb for hours at a time, bedding down the little ones and binding up their scratches without complaint. But Elder Smith’s warning lay beneath all the activity, prodding Hepzibah.

They left the states and entered the vast prairie. The tall grasses and flowers danced in the wind, and Hepzibah longed to dance. Wild game raced along the horizon, and Hepzibah longed to race with them. The “flat water” they followed raged with spring flooding, and Hepzibah raged against the rules set for women in her community.

After all, what harm could lie in rising early to take a walk and gather a few flowers? Indeed, didn’t the Bible talk about a godly woman rising before dawn? So Hepzibah rose and slipped out of camp when the last stars were shining against a dawn-streaked sky. Striding briskly up a small rise, Hepzibah was entranced by the specter of thousands of blue flowers blooming on the next ridge. Unaware of the true distance to that ridge, she walked toward the mass of blue. The sun was nearly up, now—she knew she must get back quickly. A few of those white blossoms to fill out the bouquet, and…

A shadow fell across the very blossom she reached for. Hepzibah looked up in surprise. There stood Howling Wolf, his morning catch of prairie hens dangling from one hand. Hepzibah’s heart lurched, but she straightened up and looked into his eyes. Her glance never wavered. One hand grasped the bouquet as the other reached up to touch the brim of her bonnet.

Howling Wolf reached out and pushed Hepzibah’s bonnet away from her face. It fell back to reveal a tumble of glossy black hair. Dropping the prairie chickens Howling Wolf bent slightly, and in one motion hauled Hepzibah up and over his shoulder.

Hepzibah became a ball of fury. She screamed and kicked and flailed at the man’s back. He walked on. She prayed and swore and wrestled. The man’s grip tightened and he walked on. Finally, Hepzibah dug her short nails into his back. He threw her into the dust. The wind knocked out of her, she lay helpless while Howling Wolf slowly wound a leather thong about her wrists and ankles. He hauled her up again. Hepzibah yelled and screamed and tried to roll off his shoulder.

Howling Wolf was not a patient man, and he had had enough. He threw Hepzibah to the ground, shouting and slapping her face. Elder Smith’s words came back to her: “A lone white man is an easy target. A lone woman…” For the first time in her young life, she had been struck. Her cheeks flamed with the sting of the blow and the shame of her situation. But the blow had accomplished more. It had transformed her rebelliousness into terror. Hepzibah nodded assent to the warning and meekly submitted as she was once again picked up and carried away.

Where is he taking me?
she wondered. She watched the ground beneath her for a while. It was still early. The sun was barely up. It was cool. Her head began to throb. Hepzibah closed her eyes for a moment, wondering if her father had discovered her absence yet. A new sound caught her attention—
children laughing!

Howling Wolf strode into camp, shouting about his successful hunt. He dumped Hepzibah in the dirt by a tepee and grinned at the joke he had just made about the giant bird he had found fluttering in the field of blue flowers nearby.

“I have a new prairie flower,” he laughed. Hearing her name, Prairie Flower left her cooking pot and looked outside. A white woman lay in the dirt. She was lovely. Her dark hair hung in a mass down her slender back. Her eyes were the color of the sky.

Howling Wolf looked his new woman over. He glowered at Prairie Flower. “Feed her. I may want to keep her.” He walked away, still laughing.

Prairie Flower had broken her ties to Howling Wolf. She did not have to obey him. But she had to think of a way to protect this innocent girl. Carefully she untied Hepzibah and urged her inside. With Howling Wolf out of sight, Hepzibah refused. Prairie Flower dragged her inside. The girl turned away from the food offered her, pushed herself away from the fire, and sat staring dumbly about her.

She inspected Prairie Flower carefully. The woman must have been beautiful once, but an ugly scar ran across the bridge of her nose and one cheek. Her hair was parted and braided neatly. Each braid was decorated with beads and feathers. She was clean, not at all the picture of the Indian squaw Hepzibah had been told about. Still, she shivered, put her head on her knees, and began to sob.

Will they find me?
she wondered.
Will they even look?
In her misery she questioned whether the others would even think her worthy of the effort to form a search party.
Why must I always disobey? What is it in me that always wants to go the other way?

As Hepzibah soberly contemplated her sinfulness, Prairie Flower bustled about the tepee, rolling up the bedding. She set aside the other tasks she had planned that morning in the wake of this new event. Howling Wolf had found another woman. He had even called her New Prairie Flower.

Prairie Flower tied Hepzibah’s hands again. Calling a young girl from across the camp to keep watch at the door, she hurried outside.

There was no sign of Howling Wolf. Others told her he had ridden off with two or three ponies in tow. Prairie Flower knew this meant he had gone to trade for the new woman. He intended to keep her.

Jesse was cleaning her own tepee when Prairie Flower stuck her head in the door and hissed, “Walks the Fire—come and see.”

Jesse followed her friend without question. The young girl who’d been left to watch Hepzibah skittered away and left the two women staring down at Hepzibah, who lay sleeping, exhausted by her ordeal.

“Howling Wolf calls her New Prairie Flower,” Prairie Flower moaned. Jesse took her friend’s hand, not knowing what to say. It was apparent the young woman was exhausted and would sleep for a while.

“Stay here—I will talk to Rides the Wind,” Jesse whispered. “Send for me as soon as she is awake. I must help her understand we will not hurt her.”

Jesse hurried away, her heart pounding.

Rides the Wind watched from among his small group of ponies as Jesse hurried toward him. Her hair shone bright red in the morning sun. She ran lightly to him, and his heart stirred as he slipped down from Wind’s back. The pony danced about impatiently.

“Come near,” Rides the Wind called out. Seeing Jesse hesitate, he loosened the strap from Wind’s jaw and walked to her, wrapping the strap about his hand. “What has happened?”

“Prairie Flower came to me. Howling Wolf has taken a new woman.”

“It is the way for some men,” he answered.

“But it is a young girl he has chosen,” Jesse added. “She is white. He found her near the Blue Hills. She is frightened. We must take her back to her people.” As she spoke, Jesse reached out to lay her hand on Rides the Wind’s forearm.

“If Howling Wolf found her, we cannot interfere.”

“But he wants to keep her.”

“Prairie Flower was unfaithful. Then, he was thrown out of her tepee. Howling Wolf is angry. He must regain respect. A new woman is one way to do that.”

Jesse withdrew her hand from Rides the Wind’s arm. “You don’t believe that. You can’t.”

He stared at her, unblinking. “It does not matter what I believe. This is Howling Wolfs business.” He turned to remount Wind.

Jesse felt her anger rising. Could he really stand by and do nothing? She tried again, “But, Rides the Wind—the young girl is terrified. She wants to return to her people. She should not be forced to stay.”

He was quiet for a long while. Then, slowly, Rides the Wind responded. “You were terrified when I brought you to my tepee. But you stayed. Perhaps now you wish you had told me to take you back.”

Understanding quieted Jesse’s anger. “It is not the same. I was not a young girl. I was a woman. My family was gone. We don’t know about this young woman. She may have a husband who grieves for her even now. And I…” she reached for Rides the Wind’s hand, and he let her take it, “was rescued by a man who loves my God and who came to love me. Howling Wolf is…” Jesse hesitated, but then said it anyway. She used a Lakota word that Rides the Wind did not even think she knew.