Woman of Three Worlds (22 page)

Still, as minutes stretched into hours, Brittany began to wonder if something was wrong. How could Fawn keep up such exertions, bear the pangs that moved visibly through her? Brittany's own mother had died this way; it was the fate of countless women.

Fawn had not cried out, though a moan escaped her now and then. Suddenly she gasped, stifled a scream, and into her mother's waiting hands slipped a mucus-coated little body. One woman severed the umbilical cord with the sharp edge of a yucca blade.

When the afterbirth was out, Sara got Fawn to her bed and began to bathe the birth channel. A sister brought her more herb tea and propped her up to watch Kind Hands, who, having bathed the tiny boy now rubbed him thoroughly with red ochre and tallow before she wrapped him in a rabbitskin blanket and gave him to his mother. She then sprinkled pollen in the four directions, murmuring blessings, and sprinkled more pollen on her grandson.

He stretched his arms and sneezed. Smiling as she cradled him against her, Fawn said with soft pride, “Such a great sneeze for such a little boy! Let's call him Sneezes.”

“A good baby name,” one of her sisters said. “Rest now. We'll make you some good bone soup to help your milk.”

As Sara and Brittany left, Kind Hands took the umbilical cord in a bit of old buckskin and left the camp. “What will she do with that?” Brittany asked.

“Hide it in an elderberry or hackberry tree,” Sara replied. “That way, when the tree bears new fruit each year, the baby's life is strengthened.”

Summoned by one of his wives, Big Jaw passed them, usually stern features wreathed in a smile, unable to conceal his happy relief. Now that his mother-in-law was out of the lodge, he could talk to Fawn and admire their son.

At the next new moon Pretty Eyes became a woman. Kind Hands knew the puberty ritual and had already agreed to be the girl's attendant. A wickiup was quickly raised for them in a clearing at the broadest part of the canyon outside the camp. Before dawn, while Sara, Brittany, and Grouchy went to prepare venison stew, roast meats, acorn cakes, sliced mescal and dried berries with corn gruel, Pretty Eyes went to meet her sponsor.

After Kind Hands had prayed, marked Pretty Eyes with pollen, and dressed her in the beautiful garments, they came outside, where Kah-Tay and the men were raising the ceremonial structure, aligning the four poles with the four directions. An old man was the singer and chanted and prayed, sprinkling pollen as the framework of White-Painted Woman's lodge was erected with care to do everything exactly right.

Each time White-Painted Woman or supernatural beings were named in the songs, Kind Hands gave a trilling cry supposed to be like that with which White-Painted Woman cheered her son when he killed the monsters. When the frame was up, Brittany followed Sara and Grouchy to place trays and bowls of food east of the sacred lodge. The old singer sprinkled the food with pollen and everyone feasted.

Next the ceremonial structure was finished with a floor of spruce boughs and oak branches tied to wall the sides. After that, people formed a line outside the lodge. Entering, each offered pollen to the directions and marked Pretty Eyes' face with it. In turn, she touched each person with pollen and prayed that they would have good luck and health. Little Sneezes was brought to be blessed, and when Grouchy limped in, Pretty Eyes massaged the old woman's arthritic legs.

After more rituals, Kah-Tay, Sara, and Grouchy tossed loads of presents onto the buckskin where Pretty Eyes had knelt during the blessings. There were enough beads, blankets, knives, mirrors, cloth, hides, and other gifts for everyone.

When the scramble for this largesse ended, Pretty Eyes retired to rest with Kind Hands, who would give her the instructions for a good life left by White-Painted Woman before she went to join Ussen.

The rest of that day passed in games, merriment, racing, and gambling. After night fell, a great fire was built north of the ceremonial lodge and the Mountain Spirit dancers, four of them, hooded and painted and wearing elaborate frame headdresses, did ancient dances. When they faded back into the night with a clattering of headgear, it was time for funny songs and regular dancing.

The celebration lasted four days. On the last night the Mountain Spirits jokingly made everybody join in the dancing circle. One of the masked men hauled Brittany over to Kah-Tay and they partnered each other in the simple, shuffling step.

Brittany was embarrassed at first but she was glad to join in. The ceremony had been even more beautiful and joyously solemn than she could have imagined, even from all the care Grouchy had taken over the ritual garments. When Pretty Eyes fetched one of Kah-Tay's best horses and presented it to the singer, ending the feast, Brittany prayed silently for the girl's future, and for that of these people.

Conquered they would surely be, but if they kept this ceremony, the good ways that bound them together, they could still endure.

XVI

At the full moon following Pretty Eyes' coming of age, Big Jaw decided to lead a raid to recoup his fortunes. The reparations to Scarred Face's family had left him without a mount, so his father-in-law lent him a good mule. Long Hair, Skinny, and four other restless young warriors went with him as well as two novices, boys of fifteen or sixteen.

Not every boy received power during the solitary fast when he prayed for a vision, but all became warriors through accompanying four raiding parties, during which they served the old men, taking care of the animals, cooking, fetching water and wood.

When the party was ready to leave, all the band lined up and as each had blessed Pretty Eyes with pollen, so they did the novices, laughing and saying happily, “May all be easy for you.” “Bring back lots of good mules and horses.” “Keep your thoughts right and pay attention.”

“The boys won't help with the dangerous part,” Kah-Tay told Brittany, joining her after he had wished the lads well. “They should be left somewhere to watch all that happens and perhaps one warrior will stay with them to explain.”

“The boys' caps aren't like the warriors',” remarked Brittany. The hide skullcaps of the men had long eagle feathers slanting from them, but the feathers in the novice caps were small.

Kah-Tay smiled. “Those feathers are special. For speed, there are pinfeathers from each wing of a hummingbird, eagle down for protection from harm, little breast feathers from quail to help surprise the enemy, and those oriole feathers tied around the bottom of the larger feathers will keep a boy clearheaded.”

“What if a boy doesn't want to be a warrior?”

Kah-Tay's green eyes widened in amazement. “They all do.” He added slowly. “They all must.”

Unless something better turned up on the way, the raid was aimed at a silver-mining village about five days' journey southwest. The warriors returned with much more than mules, horses, ammunition, mescal, and assorted plunder. With them were six women of Big Jaw's original band, one his aunt, another his cousin.

While gathering mescal the spring before, they had been attacked by Mexican troops. Men and babies and old people had been killed, but strong women and children had been sold for slaves. Of the fifteen women put to labor in the mine, only these had survived, to be recognized by Big Jaw as he scouted the settlement to plan his strategy.

As he watched the women driven with ox goads into a tunnel from which they returned with heavy burdens, which they carried either to a big storehouse or dumped into the river, Big Jaw saw one woman stumble out of the black hole, fall, try to rise as a guard beat her, and then collapse. When neither sharp goad nor kicks would move her, the man unstrapped her load and kicked her into the river as he might have a dead dog.

Big Jaw had turned to his companions. “You can go back,” he said. “But I'm going to get those women free!”

“I will help,” said Long Hair. The others agreed but said, “How? There are many Mexicans.”

Big Jaw nodded toward a two-story building with a crossed stick and bell on top of it. “That is the medicine lodge of the Mexicans. They keep an image of their god there, a man tortured and nailed to another crossed stick. I have heard that every seventh morning, everyone goes there to pray. We will wait till they're all in the lodge. Then we'll lock the doors and make sure they never come out.”

“How?” asked Skinny.

Big Jaw laughed. “Have you never heard of a chili explosive?”

While they waited for the medicine day, they spied from across a gorge and learned all they could about the silver camp. Families lived in a scattering of adobe huts. Beside the long storehouse were corrals holding many pack animals. Of course, there were other laborers besides the captive women. All were kept in a rambling adobe structure close to the medicine lodge.

Guards patrolled the place at night, but it was easy for Long Hair and Big Jaw to slip in after darkness, investigate the storehouse, and find that ammunition and supplies were kept there as well as ore awaiting transport to Chihuahua. Big Jaw also scouted the medicine lodge. Gaining the roof by climbing up a tree, he dug through the adobe and lowered himself into a room where water, wood, and other supplies were stored. Probably, in case of attack, this medicine lodge was used as a fortress. Big Jaw chuckled grimly under his breath. These preparations weren't going to do the Mexicans any good if his plan worked.

Feeling his way in the dark, he went down steps that ended by a door that was propped open. Inside, small lights burned by that awful image of the man nailed to the stick. Big Jaw didn't want to go in there. Going up the steps again, he carefully made a hole almost through the roof of the room below. Then he groped about and found what he was seeking—several strands of chiles hanging from the rafters.

Before they went back across the gorge, he and Long Hair located a supply of logs used for timbering the mine. There were also plenty of big rocks. Next day, Big Jaw ground a lot of chilies between two rocks and mixed them with fine shavings of inner bark from a dead pine tree. He wrapped the mixture up in a piece cut from his capacious breechcloth.

Let the seventh day come!

They knew it had when early one morning the medicine lodge bell began to ring. Soon, except for the Apache captives and their guard, every man, woman, and child in the village was inside the medicine lodge.

Long Hair had begged to be allowed to kill the guard. Leaving the novices to watch from safety, with stern orders to go home at once in case things went wrong, the warriors crept over the gorge. The guard, grasped from behind, his throat slit in the same instant, fell with the faintest gurgle.

With him dead, the warriors swiftly and silently barricaded the medicine lodge doors with big logs and heavy rocks. Big Jaw climbed the tree to the roof again, clutching his chili bundle and fire sticks. He ignited the inflammable mass, broke the thin crust of remaining roof, and tossed down the blazing object, which was already emitting choking, eye-watering fumes from the ground peppers. As frantic efforts to open the doors were muffled in screams and coughing, Big Jaw covered the hole with a rug and swung himself back to the roof.

Long Hair and the others had broken in the captives' door. Weeping for joy, Big Jaw's relatives embraced him. Mules and horses were quickly laden with choice goods from the storehouse, and the party left the village as smoke and cries still poured from the smoking lodge.

There was a great victory dance that night, but Brittany kept away. She was glad six women had been rescued from brutal slavery, but there had been children and babies in that church.

After the camp sobered up from the celebration, Big Jaw and a few other warriors set off with his relatives and the other women, planning to restore them to their band, which usually wintered along a canyon over in Arizona.

When the escort returned, Big Jaw was not with them, but Long Hair led a horse that carried a man slumped across the saddle, blood caked on his buckskin shirt. The winter sun struck reddish glints from his dark brown hair.

Zach!

Brittany was sure of it, though she couldn't see his face. With a smothered cry, she hurried forward, stopped in frozen horror as she recognized the thing dangling from Skinny's lance.

Had anyone but Michael O'Shea ever had that bright gold hair?

Big Jaw's women grouped together as Long Hair said, “Our comrade fought bravely. He killed the Blue-coat with hair like the sun and another soldier before this one shot him. I have brought the White Eye for you to kill.”

Big Jaw's mother began to wail. So did his older wives. Taking their knives they chopped off their hair and advanced on the wounded white man. That was when Fawn, who had stood dazed, baby Sneezes in his cradleboard on her back, stepped in front of her sister-wives and mother-in-law.

“The white man is unconscious. Whatever we did, he would not feel it. Wait. Let him get well enough to suffer.”

The others assented and renewed their mourning. Fawn moved numbly to the wickiup. Brittany felt a pang for her, though she was beside herself with fear.

Zach might be mortally wounded. Even if he weren't, how could he be saved? If gentle Fawn longed to see him die in torment, what hope was there?

And Michael …

Brittany stifled a moan as Skinny thrust his lance into the ground and the golden trophy hung downward. At least the laughing young officer who'd been her friend was past hurting. But Zach!

She fought the almost overwhelming urge to run to him as he was dragged roughly to the ground and left to the ministrations of the
di-yin
who had skill with wounds. She had no plan for Zach's rescue, but to reveal her feeling for him might hinder whatever scheme she hit on.

She paused with those who watched to see what the medicine man thought of the prisoner's condition. Cutting away the shirt and soaking loose the part clotted to the shoulder, the wrinkled old man examined the enflamed flesh, sucked air through his stumpy teeth.