Plenty Proud

by Jeanie P Johnson

  “Ota Itan,” the voice of Little Bird brought him back to his senses. She was scurrying up behind him to catch up. “Where are you going? I thought you were waiting for me.”

  He turned and nodded. “Yes, of course,” he murmured, letting her take his hand as he continued following the girl and trapper. He noticed the girl looking back at him again.

  “Why are you in such a hurry?” Little Bird questioned.

  “I want to do some trading at the trading post before we head back to my village,” he told her.

  It had been true, and he hurried his steps to pass the redheaded girl and trapper so he could get another look at her. When he glanced at her in passing, their eyes locked, and it was as though he was looking into her mind. He could see billowing snow crashing down a mountain, and his thoughts turned back to the snow-slide he had seen during the winter. He wondered what brought that memory to the forefront. Then he realized why. He now had the same unexplainable feeling that someone needed help, just as he had back then. It had to be connected to this girl in some way, he told himself. He turned back and continued on. He could feel her eyes on him and he glanced back at her again, trying to understand why he was having these unexplainable feelings.

  He must have had some uncanny insight back then about this moment, because when he had seen the slide he thought his unexplainable feelings had something to do with coming here to collect Little Bird, and now that he was here, that same eerie feeling was consuming him once more, only he knew it didn’t have anything to do with Little Bird. Now his interest in the redheaded girl increased even more.

  Plenty Proud knew the trapper and girl were going to the trading post to swap their hides that were packed on the mule, so he didn’t worry about where the girl would be, once he entered the gates of the outer wall. It was certain he would bump into her again, after they got inside the trading post. Little Bird seemed excited about looking at all the goods that were offered inside the trading post, and didn’t even notice that Plenty Proud kept looking around, hunting for that unruly red hair in the crowd. Then his eyes lit on her.

  She was looking at a squaw-dress, made by members of the Sioux tribe. The Sioux women were excellent bead-workers, and the dress she was admiring displayed their talent. It pleased him that she took interest in the dress, only when she looked up and saw him watching her, she backed away, and scurried to the side of the trapper again. He could tell she did not like the trapper, yet she stayed close to him as though she was afraid to leave his side.

  Little Bird was tugging at his sleeve, wanting him see something that caught her eye and his attention was drawn to her once again. He liked the way Little Bird looked, and figured she would make a fine wife, only now… his head was bursting with thoughts of the strange white girl, which he may never see again once he left the trading post. He shrugged, resigning himself to the thought. He needed to put the pitiful creature out of his mind and tend to his own business. Whether she needed help or not, he certainly was not the one who could help her. Why did he even dream he could?

  They traded the few furs he had brought with him for purchases his mother had asked him to get, along with food they could eat on the journey back to his village. He also traded a hide to get Little Bird a small wooden box with a deer carved on the lid that she had admired. Her face beamed when he presented it to her, making her look all the more appealing to him.

  She could use it for keeping various treasures in, collected during her life experiences. It was important to keep the history of events in one’s life, through saving important objects associated with those events, to share later with your children and grandchildren. This practice started early in life, from a child’s first cradleboard, along with his birth navel that was kept in a beaded pouch, preserved with herbs, to feathers earned for counting coup, as he got older, or woman’s medicine thrown by an admiring brave at the girl he wished to marry. Everyone found something to save along the way, to mark their path through life.

  Plenty Proud packed all their goods in a pouch attached to the side of his saddle frame, which was covered with blankets, to be used later when they camped along the way back to his village. Little Bird also had blankets over her wooden saddle frame, and he helped her up onto her pinto pony, when they went back to her tepee.

  He had lost track of the redheaded girl, and since he needed to return to his village, there was no reason to hang around looking for her, he decided. Whatever her fate, it had nothing to do with him, he reasoned, trying to put the thought of her out of his head, along with that feeling that kept clinging to him, which seemed connected to the same feeling he had experienced the winter before.

  Plenty Proud was not paying much attention as Fly Away slowly carried him over the well-worn path, leading back along the river. Little Bird rode alongside of him on her pony, but neither of them were speaking. His head was too filled with the peculiar emotions that kept shooting through his body, begging him to understand them. As his sure-footed horse plodded along, something caught his eye in the bushes along the river, and he turned his head to look closer. Then he pulled Fly Away to a stop, and slid down from his saddle, as Little Bird watched on with puzzlement across her face.

  Plenty Proud slowly approached the place, where he had seen the movement, and pushed the brush aside expecting some animal to dash out at his disturbing their protective den. Instead, his eyes were met by those disturbing green eyes of the strange girl who was crouching beneath the bush. Her face was filled with fear, and he could see her trembling. He smiled when he saw she was wearing the Indian dress she had been admiring earlier.

  “Do not be frightened,” he said slowly, hoping she could understand his rough English.

  She seemed to be surprised that he could speak her language. The regular contact with white people had helped him and other members of his tribe learn the language, since meetings with the white man over treaties or trading for white men’s goods, demanded it.

  “Why you hiding?” he asked next.

  “I don’t want Griz to find me,” she mumbled.

  “Who Griz?” he asked, feeling puzzled.

  “The trapper I was with. He will force me to come back with him, if he discovers me here. I want to return to Missouri.”

  “I do not know this place, Missouri,” Plenty Proud told her. “Why you go there?”

  “My family has a house there. Our cabin was destroyed in the avalanche, and I don’t know what happened to my father and brother, but I refuse to stay with Griz any longer. He saved me from freezing, only he frightens me, and I don’t like him.”

  When she spoke of the avalanche, Plenty Proud suddenly put all the pieces together. She had been in the snow-slide he had seen. She had needed help back then, and now, it appeared that she still needed help. Something inside of him had been aware of it. This made him believe there was some kind of spiritual connection between the two of them.

  “How you get to place you speak of?” Plenty Proud asked, trying to ignore the leap in his heart, knowing that now he could help her after all.

  “I was hoping trappers heading down the river, would take me with them,” she admitted.

  “Trappers on river have only round flat-raft to carry them and furs. They have no place to put you,” he pointed out.

  “Then I will just have to walk, I guess,” she mumbled. “Only I don’t want Griz to find me, so I planned to stay here until I was sure he had left the trading post. Maybe I could make a flat-raft for myself to ride in,” she suggested.

  Mackenzie knew that the trappers, heading back to Missouri, often made small round rafts fashioned out of a hoop of willow branches with a hide stretched over them. This way, no matter how shallow the river became, it would carry them down river all the way to the Missouri River.

  “Come with us,” Plenty Proud offered. “We follow river. Come ride with me on my pony. I not let Griz take you.”

  Plenty Proud motioned to his horse beside Little Bird sitting on her horse watching them.
Little Bird was too far away from them, so she could not tell what they were talking about. She merely looked a little puzzled and uncertain as she watched on, wondering why Plenty Proud was even talking to the white girl.

  Mackenzie glanced from Plenty Proud to Little Bird and back again. There was something about the way he was looking at her that made her feel she could trust him. After all, he was traveling with a young woman about her own age, and Griz had claimed the Indians at the trading post were friendly.

  “Maybe for a bit,” she said hesitantly, hoping that her intuition was right.

  “If we see trappers, you ask one to take you,” he offered. “Maybe make raft for you.”

  She thought riding would be much better than walking because she was so tired from her trek out there. Besides, it would put more distance between her and the trading post, and Griz would never be able to catch up to her. As long as she was with the Indians, she doubted Griz would try to force her to come with him, even if he did catch up. Slowly, she rose up from her hiding place, and Plenty Proud took her bag of supplies, and tied it to a leather thong hanging from the other side of his saddle frame from where his pouch was tied. Then he put her up on his horse and swung up behind her.

  “Why are you bringing her?” Little Bird hissed under her breath at him, in their own language, trying to understand why Plenty Proud would want to bring a white girl with them. Seeing the girl was dressed like an Indian, also made her wonder.

  “She needs protection,” he told her. “I am giving it to her.”

  He squeezed his legs for Fly Away to continue on. He noticed that the girl had washed her face and combed her hair since he last saw her, but the smell of her told him that she was in need of a bath, and once they camped beside the river that evening, they could all bathe, he decided.

  Mackenzie sat stiffly on the horse in front of Plenty Proud. Her eyes scanned the river in search of trappers, but saw none. Eventually, the steady rocking of the horse as it loped evenly along the path started to lull her to sleep. The whole day had been taxing with the mixture of excitement, tempered by disappointment of not getting any money for her furs. She knew that Griz had known that all along, thinking she had no way of escaping him. Then when she asked the man behind the counter if anyone had seen her father or brother, he only shrugged, but promised to pass on her message if they happened to come to the trading post asking about her.

  Mackenzie could feel herself relaxing, and started to slump back, leaning against the strong chest of the Indian. She didn’t even know his name. However, she didn’t feel she would be with him and his friend long enough to make it matter. She was vaguely aware of one of his strong arms reaching around her waist to steady her against him, as she began relaxing. It felt strangely comforting to her. It had been so long since she felt secure and at peace like that. Even though the Indian behind her was wild and a little frightening to look at, an inexplicable peacefulness washed over her, resting against him the way she was. Then she was lost in a dream filled with the face of the Indian who had taken her under his wing.

  Plenty Proud, liked the way it felt to have one of his arms around the young girl’s waist, securing her so she wouldn’t fall from his pony. She seemed to trust him. He wanted her to trust him. He glanced over at Little Bird who was looking at the way he held the girl against him. Her eyes looked worried and confused. He didn’t blame her. He felt worried and confused as well. While he was attracted to Little Bird, he knew he wanted this fire-headed girl there with him. The connection he felt to her could not be denied, even though she was not an Indian, and he had never met her before. It made him wonder if the Great Spirit had planned this for some reason.

  He gave a nervous smile to Little Bird, as though trying to reassure her that everything was alright, only he knew it wasn’t. Perhaps this slip of a girl would end up going with the trappers, if they found any who would take her back to Missouri, but until then… He didn’t know what. He didn’t want the… until then… to arrive. He wanted the girl resting in his arms to remain there for as long as… His thoughts were crazy. He could not insist that she remain with him. She was a white woman. He would be accused of capturing her. They were trying to keep peace with the white man, and lately, with all the people traveling over their territory, it was not proving to be very easy.

  The girl stirred, and he found himself pushing her flaming hair out of her face, and gazing down at her lovely features. Her hair was full of natural curls and felt soft against his palm. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment, gazing mistily up at him, as though still in a dream.

  “Who are you?” she murmured so softly he believed she was talking in her sleep.

  “I am Plenty Proud,” he replied quietly, not wanting to disturb her.

  He liked that she had relaxed and was not looking at him like a scared rabbit anymore. Instead, her misty gaze touched his heart in a way he hadn’t expected, and he could feel it quicken its beat. He brushed a finger across her chapped lips. Even in their condition, they felt soft to the touch. The corners turned up in a slight smile, as she closed her eyes again, snuggling her head into his neck, as she turned her cheek against his shoulder. The softness of her cheek, pressing against his skin, was like a caress, and her soft hair tickling his neck sent shivers through him. The connection he felt with her grew stronger. Maybe he should go on a vision quest and discover their connection, he thought to himself.

  They rode in silence for several miles, as Little Bird kept giving Plenty Proud questioning glances. Even though he had not approached her on the subject, it was understood that her mother’s friend wished for her son to take Little Bird as his wife. Now she was not so sure it was what he intended. She couldn’t understand why he looked so enthralled with the white woman sitting in his lap. She knew he couldn’t take that girl as his wife, yet the way he looked at her sleeping face, caused Little Bird’s heart to fall. Plenty Proud was so handsome, she liked the look of him the moment she had met him, yet his very self-assured stature made her feel shy. Now she was starting to feel rejected. She wondered how long the white girl would travel with them. She couldn’t understand why he wanted her there with them.

  The Sioux were not fond of white people, even though they were made to cooperate with them, to keep the American military from overtaking their tribe and forcing them to move off their land, like other tribes had been forced to do since the white man had shown up on their shores many generations in the past. Some of the Sioux were raiding and plundering wagon trains, killing the white people who rode in them, in an attempt to discourage other encroaching wagon trains from crossing over their land.

  Her, and Plenty Proud’s people had been one of the few Sioux clans to remain friendly with the whites, only the whites seemed to believe all Indians were cut from the same cloth, and did not understand the separation of the clans within any given tribe of Indians. To them, one Indian was just as despicable as another. They would mistake one tribe for another, and give names to tribes that did not belong to them because some past explorer dubbed them with a certain name, or they lived along a certain river, or put their villages in an area, already named by the white man, or the Mexicans. There were few white people who even understood the customs or spiritual beliefs of the red man, believing them to be barbaric and heathens, with no God to guide them.

  The Mexicans had made a crusade to give the Indians what they believed to be the only religion acceptable. They built Missions throughout the west, forcing nearby tribe to conform to their belief in God, convinced they were wicked and lost souls if they did not embrace the Christian religion. It was all in the name of saving the souls of those who did not prescribe to their self-righteous concepts of what God wanted everyone to do. They had no understanding of the Great Spirit or Grandmother nature, which the people native to the land believed in.

  Little Bird sighed, hoping that Plenty Proud would come to his senses and let the white girl leave them, to go on her own way by herself. She had hoped to get better acqu
ainted with Plenty Proud on their journey to his village. Now it seemed all his attention was centered on the red-haired young woman riding in front of him on his horse. She wished it was her with her head resting so peacefully against his shoulder, not that white stranger’s head.

  As the day wore on, Plenty Proud finally pulled Fly Away off of the trail and headed down closer to the river where they could set up a camp for the night. As his pace slowed, and the horse turned, heading down a slight descent to the river’s edge, Mackenzie stirred awake and lifted her head from his shoulder.

  “We will camp here,” Plenty Proud told her, as he slipped off the back of Fly Away, and pulled her down to the ground beside him. Little Bird was dismounting as well.

  Plenty Proud turned to Little Bird and smiled. “Take our guest down to the river and help her bathe,” he told her in their own language. “I will prepare our camp and build a fire and then bathe later.”

  Little Bird glanced up at him. He barely looked at her as he gave her the request and she felt like he was treating her with indifference. Only she knew her place. Women were to obey the men of the tribe. If he considered the white girl a guest, it was right to honor their guests, and treat them kindly. She took the girl’s hand and led her down to the river. She could see Plenty Proud watching on, and hoped he would admire her own body, rather than that of the white woman’s beside her. As they disrobed, Little Bird was intrigued by how white the girl’s skin looked. It was in such contrast to her own bronze skin, and she feared that Plenty Proud would be intrigued with the sight of that white skin even more than she was.

  Plenty Proud watched as Little Bird ushered the girl down into the river, their backs turned to him. They were both beautiful women in their own way, so different from the other, he thought. His draw to both was strong, yet his eyes kept settling on the white woman, trying to calm the riotous beating of his heart at the sight of her. He busied himself with digging out a fire pit and building a fire to try and distract him confused mind. Then he started pulling the blankets off of the two saddle frames, and placing them near the fire. Soon he began bringing out his supply of food he had gotten at the trading post, but his eyes kept lifting to the two girls bathing together.