Tiopa Ki Lakota

by D. Jordan Redhawk

  ikceya

  , keeping them on the sun as she weaved and pulled. Ah, my poor love!

  Eyes stinging from the tears, Anpo danced back and forth. The sticks that were used to attach the rawhide rubbed against her furiously, irritating the incisions. After several minutes, a euphoria seemed to take over and the pain receded from her mind as she prayed to the spirits and thanked them for the honor of tatanka ska and Ketlin.

  One by one, the dancers freed themselves from the wakan

  tree. Soon, there was only one remaining. Kathleen watched in anguish, her entire body humming with the need to rush out and protect her warrior. The only thing holding her back was Hca’s arm firmly wrapped about her shoulders and the apparent acceptance of all the other Lakota who were present.

  And then there was a gasp from the spectators as Anpo jerked backwards with a purpose, ripping the thongs from her chest simultaneously. A loud cheer rang out, filling the lodge.

  Kathleen grimaced and moaned low in her throat.

  “Your winuhca is very powerful and honored, hanka,” Nupa murmured into her ear. “Not many are so strong as to do what she has done.”

  The praise did nothing to ease the blonde’s fears. Despite her desire to not see anymore of the savage display, she couldn’t keep her eyes from the lone dancer still in the clearing.

  Bracing herself, Anpo forced herself to surge forward. She felt her skin ripping, a sickening sensation, and the hot flow of fresh blood coursing down her back. With no further resistance from behind, the warrior stumbled and fell to her knees.

  “Anpo!” Kathleen cried, her voice drowned from the cheering of the onlookers. She tried to go to her woman only to be held back by Hca and Nupa.

  “Hiya

  , Ketlin!” the dark woman insisted, blotting out Kathleen’s view of her sister. “You must not!”

  Regardless of the plea, the blonde continued to fight against her captors until Nupa’s face filled her vision.

  “Hanka!” he yelled. “Do not dishonor your winuhca

  !”

  The words washed over her, leaving a chillness in their wake. Dishonor?

  Seeing uncertainty, Nupa continued. “She is a warrior and she has shown her gratitude for all her honor to wakan tanka

  ! Do not let all she has done be for nothing! Let her walk out with pride!”

  Anpo stumbled to her feet, breathing heavily. She and the other dancers gathered around the pole and sang a final song of thanks to the spirits. There was a hush when it was finished and all of them shuffled out into the summer camp’s clearing.

  Tears were coursing down Kathleen’s face as her warrior shambled by, exhausted and hurting. She started to reach a hand out, to touch her, to assure her that she was there, but pulled back. Don’t dishonor her. Be brave. She needs me ta be brave.

  And then the dozen candidates were outside the ti ikceya and the people all began leaving, as well. The blonde looked to Anpo’s sister, her face anguished and questioning.

  A tender look crossed Hca’s face and she nodded. “Go to her, Ketlin. She will need you now.” She smiled when her stepan

  needed no further encouragement, slipping away through the crowd towards the tiopa.

  Anpo tried to remain standing tall, but was having some difficulty. Many people passed her, offering kind words and smiles. But none had the face of the one she wished to see. A warmth seemed to caress her from one side and the warrior instinctively turned that way. An arm wrapped around her waist and her woman shouldered some of her burden.

  “Winuhca!” Kathleen said in a breathless tone. “You and I will go home now.” The grin that she received nearly made her heart stop.

  “I love you, mahasanni ki,” the young warrior said, allowing herself to be led away.

  The blonde woman paused for just a second before continuing on her path. That’s what ‘tis then? Love? Pause. Anpo loves me? With a silly grin plastered on her mouth, Kathleen answered, “I love you, too, winuhca

  . More than you will ever know.”

  Chapter 7

  Wakan Waste

  (wah-kahn wash-teh)

  Good Energy

  1778

  The warrior sat at the fire, quietly smoking a pipe. She had a buffalo robe wrapped about her to keep out the chill of the late winter evening. Before her was a fire that crackled and popped. She was not alone.

  Her sister was bustling around the fire to one side. As the wikoskalaka

  finished preparing the evening meal, she filled a clay bowl of stew and handed it to the warrior. “Here, mitankala

  . Eat.”

  Wi Ile Anpo

  looked up from the fire. “Ohan, cuwekala,” she said with worried face. “Thank you.” Setting the bowl to one side, the warrior finished smoking her pipe in silent contemplation, steam from her breath mingling with the tobacco smoke.

  Before her lay the winter camp of Wagmiza Wagna

  . About thirty ti ikceyas lay around a large cleared area in a near circle. The only open space among them was on the eastern side where the entrance would face the rising sun. At the exact opposite of the communal space was a larger ti

  ikceya

  that was used as a meeting place for the elders and chiefs.

  Finishing her tobacco, the warrior emptied the ashes into the fire so that the spirits could have the sacred smoke. Hca Wanahca

  was watching carefully as she stirred the stew.

  Behind the warrior was her winuhca’s ti ikceya. In the flickering firelight, designs could be seen painted on the buffalo hide. The doorway was closed, a separate leather skin covering it. But it didn’t close off the noises coming from within. A man’s voice, the medicine man, was singing. Another’s, the shaman, was chanting a spell of protection. Beneath them could be heard the sounds of a woman moaning in pain.

  The warrior ate her meal quietly. Around the clearing, other families were gathered around their own lodges, all minding their own business but also out and about in silent support of her. At a fire nearby, her father and best friend were doing the same. The elders were gathered at the main fire by the council ti ikceya, smoking their pipes and discussing where to set up the summer camp in the following months.

  In the lodge behind her, a sudden howling rent the air. The camp seemed to freeze, all appearing to hold their collective breath in trepidation. And then a wail from an indignant newborn christened the night sky and the camp returned to its activities in relief. A few more moments passed as the men inside finished their prayers and incantations. The babe’s voice eventually died down.

  When the shaman and medicine man stepped out of the ti ikceya, Hca left the fire and headed inside. This seemed to break the tableau around the camp. As the two men sat at the warrior’s fire, the women from the other lodges began trailing closer, intent on offering assistance to the new mother.

  The two men sat in silence for a few moments. The shaman pulled out a bundle of fur and carefully unwrapped a pipe. It was made of an antelope antler and intricately carved and decorated. The others watched as he carefully loaded the bowl with tobacco. He crouched forward and, with aged fingers, used two twigs to lift a burning ember, lighting the pipe.

  The shaman spoke a prayer as he offered the smoke to the four directions. And then he took a puff of the pipe, using his free hand to guide the smoke towards his head and behind.

  The shaman handed the pipe, stem first, to the warrior who repeated the process of smoking and guiding the cloud closer. And it was passed to the medicine man who did the same. The trio sat in silence, finishing this ritual. When the bowl held nothing but ashes, the shaman tapped it into the fire, releasing the last of it for the great spirits that ruled their world.

  The warrior waited patiently, although her worries were growing by leaps and bounds the longer the wise men remained silent. She breathed a faint sigh of relief when the medicine man cleared his throat in preparation of speaking, unaware that her father had gone through this same arduous process seventeen wint
ers earlier.

  “You have a strong cinksi, wikoskalaka,” He Osni

  rasped, his voice almost a whisper from the extended use and the cold of winter.

  “And Ketlin? How is my winuhca

  ?” Anpo asked, leaning forward with intensity.

  Inyan Ceye

  chuckled as he wrapped the pipe. “She is well, wikoskalaka

  . The labor was long, but the birth was quick.” He slipped the bundle into a pouch.

  “Hau,” the older medicine man agreed with a snort. “The wakanyeja

  was stubborn until he made the decision to leave his ina’s san

  .”

  Anpo’s face was a mix of concern and confusion. She had seen babies before but had never seen a newborn display obstinance. “Stubborn...?” Her dark head shook.

  The shaman laughed outright at her consternation and clapped a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Hau, Anpo! Your cinksi

  will be stubborn, just like you and his ina! He will take a long time to set his path, but he will follow that path to the end when he finds it!”

  Still not sure if this was a good character trait or not, the warrior’s answering laugh was a bit weak. Sitting still at her fire, Anpo fought with her natural inclination to dash into the ti

  ikceya

  and check on her winuhca herself.

  Seeing the whites of the young warrior’s eyes, He Osni smiled and waved her away. “Go, wikoskalaka. Go see your family before you shake apart from within.”

  A quick look at Inyan, who also nodded and urged her with a wave of a hand, and Anpo was up and into her woman’s lodge, scattering the other winyan

  and wikoskalaka like quail in the tall grass.

  Inside, the ti ikceya was warm from the fire. Waniyetu Gi

  and Hca were both chattering and cooing at the blonde woman and the warrior found that puzzling. They have never treated Ketlin like that before... There were other women in the lodge, some gathered around Kathleen and others tending the fire or tidying up. All stood aside with smiles on their faces when they saw Anpo approaching.

  The small crowd parted and the warrior could see the yellow of her woman’s hair. “Ketlin?” she asked, her voice tentative as the flushed face and tired eyes met hers.

  “Winuhcala,” Kathleen responded. “Come see your son.” She watched her warrior and partner kneel down beside her, dark blue eyes searching the handsome face for any sign. Now we’ll see, lass. Will she accept a child that isn’t hers? She chewed her lower lip in anxiety, despite Gi’s promising response.

  As Anpo settled down beside her woman, she could see the reason for her family’s strange behavior. Something wrapped in a skin squirmed on Kathleen’s chest; small suckling noises and a tuft of black hair were all that could be heard or seen. She reached out but pulled her hand back at a sudden movement, startled.

  Despite her worries and exhaustion, the blonde woman chuckled. She took her warrior’s hand. “It is fine, winuhcala

  .” Bringing their hands to the wriggling bundle, she brushed aside the skin, revealing the newborn. “You can touch him, Anpo.”

  He is so.... His skin is so wrinkled! And then the warrior’s fingers brushed against the baby’s back. And soft! she thought, her face showing wonder. Growing a bit bolder, she placed her hand on his head, nearly covering it completely, the hair tickling her palm. As Gi and Hca hustled the remaining women out of the lodge, a smile grew on Anpo’s face.

  Kathleen felt her worries trickle away at her warrior’s response. When the dark eyes met hers, she could see tears within them and felt her own eyes filling.

  “Oh, Ketlin! He is beautiful!” Anpo finally breathed. She stroked the blonde’s cheek. “As are you, mahasanni ki

  .”

  The tears spilled over and Kathleen sobbed in relief even as she laughed. “I am so happy you think so, winuhcala,” she offered by way of explanation.

  “But, how could I not, Ketlin?” Anpo wondered. “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. And this child is from you.”

  Kathleen cried a little harder at the sentiment, a mixture of love and relief and astonishment filling her. She felt the dark woman settle down beside her and gather them into her arms, gently helping to adjust the babe still feeding at her breast. The sleeping robes were brought up to cover the three of them and a song was crooned to her as she cried herself out.

  When her woman’s tears had subsided, Anpo leaned back to look at her. “Are you all right, winuhcala?” Her long fingers brushed the tears from her face.

  “I am more than all right, Anpo,” Kathleen responded with a smile. “I am very, very happy now.” And then on a whim, she did something she hadn’t done before.

  Dark eyes widened as soft lips met hers. They were there for just a moment and then gone. Anpo felt a fluttering in her chest and she peered down at the blonde in her arms. She kissed me!

  Having seen the startled look in her warrior’s eyes, Kathleen had broken the kiss but couldn’t resist a shy smile.

  It was answered by a silly grin on Anpo’s face. Ketlin kissed me! With no thought, she hugged her woman tightly until a squirming newborn showed his displeasure by grumbling.

  The dark woman backed off so quickly, that Kathleen had to laugh. She readjusted their son to the other breast and covered him again. “What will we call him, winuhcala

  ?” The blonde took her warrior’s hand and pulled her close again.

  Anpo resettled herself, keeping the new arrival in mind. “I have thought long and hard on this, Ketlin,” she said, watching their son with fond eyes. “Inyan told me he would be stubborn. And it was tatanka

  ska

  that brought you and he to me.” She used a finger to brush the dark tuft of hair. “I would like to call him Tatanka Teca.”

  Feeling warm and relaxed, Kathleen’s eyes drifted closed. “Tatanka Teca it is then, winuhcala.”

  As the blonde fell asleep, their son drowsing as he fed, Anpo held them both close and sang a song of joy to them. Soon her voice faded and the small family slumbered together.

  The infant picked up a small stone and stuffed it into his mouth.

  “Teca!” Kathleen scooped him up, fingers delving into the small orifice to fish out the offending rock. She tossed it away, settling her son in her lap.

  The boy immediately began fussing, wriggling in an attempt to get away from his mother and explore further.

  “Give him to me, winuhcala,” Anpo offered with a smile. She set her empty bowl aside and held out her hands. “I am full. You eat now.”

  Relieved, the blonde woman handed over their bundle of joy and picked up her half eaten food. She watched with wonder as Teca stopped his cranky behavior, giggling at the faces her warrior made for him. I can’t believe how lucky I’ve been, finding her. Would Adam have made as good a father?

  The warrior played with their son as her woman finished eating. He was settled on one bare leg which was moving lightly and causing him to bounce. The baby was still a bit unstable as he sat and Anpo held onto his small hands to keep him upright. “You will be a great pony rider, cinksi,” she informed him.

  Teca gurgled his agreement, two bottom teeth shining brightly in the late afternoon sun.

  “He will take after his inanup

  ,” Kathleen said with some authority. “He will be a strong warrior and hunter.” Leaning close, she caught the baby’s eye. “Am I right, Teca?”

  Dark brown eyes focused on the blonde and the child’s smile widened. He answered with a string of syllables that made no sense, though he was quite adamant in his view.

  Laughing, Anpo picked him up and held him high overhead as he squealed with pleasure. “And he will speak many words like his ina

  . Both Lakota and English.”

  There was a sparkle in the blue eyes that looked at the warrior. “Are you saying I talk too much, winuhcala

  ?”

  The dark woman brought the baby back down and tucked him into the crook
of her arm. “Hiya

  , Ketlin!” was the mock sincere response. “I would never say that!” Anpo looked down at the child and, in a loud whisper, said, “Remember, Teca. They are winyan and do not make sense.”

  A yellow eyebrow raised. “I believe that you are winyan

  , too,” she suggested.

  Anpo’s smile widened and she scooted about to lie down, her head in her woman’s lap and the baby straddling her belly. “But I am a warrior and I make very good sense.” At Kathleen’s look of askance, the dark woman insisted, “It is true! My ate told me so!”

  Kathleen shook her head, knowing that there was no winning this ‘argument’. With a smile, she bent closer and brushed her lips across her warrior’s forehead. Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention.

  The baby rocked, keeping the dark woman’s interest. His movement was a little spasmodic, however, as he was fighting sleep. Anpo began humming softly and pulled the boy forward until he was lying down, his stomach against hers. The song rattled deep in her chest and Teca’s ear, pressed against her sternum, picked it up. He began to relax against her.

  “What is Nupa doing?”

  With idle strokes along the baby’s back, the warrior turned her head to see what was going on.

  Nupa Olowan

  was pacing in front of Waniyetu Gi’s ti

  ikceya

  . Despite the heat of summer, he was fully dressed in decorated moccasins, leggings and shirt, a large buffalo robe wrapped about his shoulders. A quilled breastplate hung down his front, various designs painted along the leather edges in blues and reds. His hair had been neatly combed and braided, three small quills dangling and two larger ones with red tips standing upright. The garish colors on his face seemed to glow in the evening sun, reds and yellows and greens appearing to leap away.

  A slow smile crept across Anpo’s face. At last! “He is going to woo my sister.”

  “What?” Kathleen looked down in puzzlement. “What was that word again?”

  “To woo. He is going to see if she will join with him in the future.”

  The blonde repeated the word. Peering back at Gi’s lodge, she could see movement at the tiopa. Nupa continued to pace back and forth. He’s courtin’ her! How wonderful!