by Vivi Holt
“I’ll try,” she said, and swallowed the sob that threatened to break free as he kissed her.
When they finally made it back to the village, everything looked the same as it had before she’d left. She didn’t understand how that could be, since everything had changed for her in that one short day. Her entire life had been turned upside down – how could the world look just as it had? But Chepi and Lonan bickered over supper as they always did. Impeme snuggled in her lap, her eyelids drifting closed as they finished the meal. And Anunkasan was back, hiding in his teepee and keeping his distance, only a black eye and bruised cheek to show that anything out of the ordinary had happened.
Afterward Maria placed Impeme on her sleeping mat and returned to the campfire to sit beside Bodaway. He slipped an arm around her shoulders, and kissed her forehead. “Who could want more than this?” he asked, his eyes gleaming in the firelight. “You could be happy here, couldn’t you?”
“I could. It’s beautiful,” she said. Still, her thoughts whispered in the darkness: is it everything?
Chapter Eighteen
July 1870
Maria climbed cautiously into the canoe, careful not to capsize the small craft. Bodaway held it steady by the curved bow, and Chepi handed Impeme into the canoe to sit in front of her. Then Chepi climbed in as well, seating herself in the front of the boat. Lonan rode in another canoe with his grandfather, Hanovi, and Maria glanced back to where he sat, with a straight back and wide eyes. She smiled at him, then helped Bodaway lift and stash their supplies into the base of the canoe near her feet.
As soon as they were all settled, Bodaway strode through the shallows, his strong legs pushing the clear water into small waves that lapped briskly at the shore. Then, he leapt nimbly into the stern, and lifted an oar into the air before pushing it deep into the water and propelling the canoe forward and away from the river bank.
She wrapped her arms lightly around Impeme, and the girl nestled her head into Maria’s shoulder.
“How long will it take to get there?” she asked, her forehead creased in concentration.
“I think it will be about two days by river,” replied Maria as she caressed the child’s hair.
The strong, rhythmic strokes of the oar propelled the boat forward with a steady jolting at first. But before long, the current of the river and the momentum of the canoe carried them along in a smooth, straight line, the bow slicing through the still surface of the water with ease.
According to Bodaway, they hadn’t visited their relatives to the south in over two years, and it was expected they’d come to the Sioux’s annual summer celebration.
The groves that cradled the river bank brimmed with elk and mule deer. Their majestic heads jerked skyward, mouths full of sweet grass, to watch as the canoes skimmed silently past on the river’s glassy surface. They seemed untroubled by the intruders, soon dropping their heads to continue their grazing.
A large hemlock tree loomed up ahead, its full, thick trunk leaned out over the water. It squatted on the edge of an eroded section of the bank, its roots exposed on one side by the rushing water. As they passed beneath it, she gasped — a great grizzly bear stood with its back to the tree, rubbing up and down on the rough bark, its nose pointed high in the air. It was no more than a few feet away from her, and she wondered if she could touch it if only she reached out her hand.
They hadn’t traveled long, when they rounded a bend in the river to discover a long, slow moving pool of water in a particularly wide section of the river. The water grew shallow, and as she leaned over the side of the canoe, Maria saw the dark shapes of fish darting between patches of weeds, their scaly backs shimmering in the glimpses of sunlight that filtered through the crystal waters.
The far end of the pond was framed by a particularly high cliff, hollowed out by the incessant stream of water beneath it. An outcropping jutted high above the swirl of the deep, dark river. And beneath the outcropping, stood a half dozen bison, their massive heads hanging low against the water. Their long, hides dripped in shaggy tendrils down their heaving flanks.
Maria tipped her head to one side, and lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the glare of sunlight as it glanced off the water’s surface.
“Boda, what are they doing?” she asked.
The bison turned their heads, beady eyes following the approach of the line of canoes.
“I think they’re stuck. The mud on the edges of the river is black, and thick. It can be hard to break free once you’re caught in it.”
She frowned. “Could they really be stuck? Why did they cross there, though? Why didn’t they turn back? They can’t get up that bank, with the outcropping above them like that.”
She strained her neck to see Bodaway where he sat behind her, paddling steadily.
“I don’t know, but I’ve seen them do it before. It’s as though they decide to cross the river somewhere, and won’t turn back no matter what they find.”
“Can we chase them back?”
He laughed, low and soft. “We can try, if you’d like.”
She nodded. He steered their boat toward the bison, and yelled at them. She clapped her hands together, the sound reverberating off the high banks. The buffalo watched with interest, but didn’t move. One shook its horns at them, and another gave a snort. As the canoe slipped silently by them, she reached out a hand and slapped one of the enormous cows on the rump. Its skin twitched at her touch, but still the animal didn’t move.
She sighed, and turned back to watch them as the canoe pulled away. “What will happen to them?”
“They’ll drown,” said Bodaway, without flinching. He continued paddling, his eyes trained on the water ahead of them.
Her brow furrowed, and she tightened her grip on Impeme as the child began to hum a soft tune.
They camped beside the river that night, in a hollow lined by junipers. The howl of wolves in the moonlit night sent a chill over her skin, and set the hairs on her arms on end. She wondered if they’d make it through the night, as the sounds of the pack drew ever closer, surrounding them. The animals encircled the camp in the early hours of the morning, and she hugged her knees to her chest, with her eyes pressed tightly shut. And when the sun rose, she rubbed the sleep from her tired eyes, and sighed with relief. They’d lived to see another day, though she’d gotten little rest.
On the third day, they arrived at the Sioux camp, beside the river that had grown fat and slow as they descended it. Hundreds of teepees dotted rolling hills, and nestled in valleys and groves on the shores of the now brown and muddied waterway. Naked children ran along the shore, shouting and whistling to them with a frantic waving and leaping into the air.
Maria laughed at the sight of them, and she and children returned their waves. When the canoe was grounded in the mud, a man with an ochre tinted face reached for their bow and pulled them hard up the bank. He smiled, and nodded, before hurrying to beach another of the canoes in their party.
A line of sweat trickled down the small of her back, and she rubbed a hand across her forehead and down her face. Would the Sioux accept her as one of the tribe? The Lakota had grown accustomed to her presence, but what would their cousins think of her?
She hoped Bodaway would at least stay by her side, but he disappeared within moments of them coming to ground at the edge of the great town, surrounded by a bevy of braves with painted faces, dressed in breechclout, who whooped and thumped him hard on the back with wide grins. Her heart pounded, and she rubbed the palms of her hands down the length of her buckskin dress. What now?
Hundreds of Sioux Indians ran to greet the visitors. There were shouts of joy as the two tribes embraced one another, and the celebrations began even as they made their way into camp. The children seemed as nervous as she was, crowding around her. Chepi held one hand, and Impeme attached herself to the other. Lonan hid behind his grandfather, his eyes as round as an owl’s in all the noise and excitement.
Several of the women and children had beg
un to crowd around them. Soon they were pulling at her hair, pushing fingers toward her eyes, and marveling over the color of her skin. When one of them grabbed Maria’s arm, and flung her to the ground, Impeme began to cry.
Maria gasped, and tried to push herself back onto her feet, but dozens of hands pulled and shoved her, and she lost her balance.
“Mariya!” Bodaway’s voice cut through the commotion.
“Yes, I’m here!” she cried out, shielding her head with her hands. Impeme was screaming now, and Chepi tried to push the women away, her anger fueling her strength.
Bodaway’s hands grasped her by the shoulders, and lifted her to her feet. He pulled his daughters close, one beneath each arm, and smiled at the curious onlookers. He spoke in a strange dialect, but she recognized her own name in his words, Mariya.
The women nodded, and made various sounds that suggested they understood what he was saying. Then, with a few pats here and there to her arms and back, they dispersed until she was left standing with only Bodaway and the children beside her in the dust.
“What was that all about?” she asked, as she smoothed her hair. She studied a scratch on her knee, then pulled her dress down to cover it.
“They thought you were my slave, not my wife. I corrected them.”
Her eyes widened. “What would they have done to me if they were right?”
He shook his head. “Never mind that now. Come, Impeme, your mama is fine. I’ll carry you on my shoulders, will that make you feel better?”
The little girl was sobbing still, but she nodded her head and smiled through her tears. As she raised her arms high, Bodaway swung her up onto his shoulders. He grinned at Maria, took her by the hand, and led her and Chepi up the hill and into the town.
Maria had never seen an Indian town as large as this one. People milled about everywhere. The teepees were tall, spacious and lavishly decorated. They sat, side by side, as far as she could see across the small valley and over the hilltops. The poles that held the tents in place protruded from the top, criss-crossing in spikes, and smoke spirals curled skyward through them. Between the teepees, dusty and narrow streets wound their way through the township. A large timber carving of an eagle-like creature loomed above them, and Maria’s breath caught in her throat as they made their way into the heart of the town.
There was a great celebration that day, and well into the night. The Sioux cousins seemed delighted to welcome their visitors, and from what Maria could tell, many of the Lakota were related by blood to various of the townsfolk. The visit seemed like a family reunion of sorts, and even Maria couldn’t help but feel the excitement that pulsed through the air. It was clear to her that Bodaway was well respected in this township, just as he was with the Lakota. Everyone wanted to speak with him. Everyone wanted his advice.
She hung back in the shadows, watching as he greeted each person he met by name, and gave them his full attention. Her heart swelled at the sight, and she smiled to herself. Thankfully, after the initial attention she'd garnered on the riverbank, the Sioux left her alone. And she was able to watch quietly as a feast was brought out and laid on large pieces of bark and animal skins on the ground. There was broiled buffalo tongue, fire roasted bear meat, smoked elk, stewed bull berries, plums and much more.
Before they’d finished their meal the stars sparkled in the black sky above, and Impeme was already asleep in her lap. When as the dancing began, Maria excused herself to take Impeme to lay down in their assigned teepee.
She settled the girl on a buffalo hide, then lay down herself, listening to the muffled noise of the revelers through the tent’s thin walls. The skin that covered the doorway was pulled aside, and a figure stepped through and into the teepee.
“Mariya.” Bodaway’s voice whispered in the darkness. “Are you asleep?”
“No, I’m over here.”
He made his way to her, and sat beside her, his hand on her arm.
“You didn’t have to leave early on my account,” she said, as she covered a yawn with her hand.
“I’d rather be here with you. And I wanted to make sure you were all right. I’m sorry about earlier — the misunderstanding. Were you hurt?”
She could see the gleam of his eyes in the dim light from the fire in the center of the teepee.
“I’m fine, thank you Boda. Really, you needn’t have left the party early. I can see how well liked you are, and it’s good for you to enjoy the company of your friends.”
She patted his arm, then tucked her hands beneath her cheek with another yawn. “Besides, I’m so tired — I’ll be asleep in no time.”
He nodded, and began to rise.
“Boda?”
He hesitated. “Yes.”
“Will it always be this way?” She frowned, and sat up.
“What way?”
“Me the outcast — always different, never accepted?”
He sighed, and settled back onto his haunches. “I suppose.”
Her head drooped, and she pursed her lips.
He continued. “But, not for me. To me, you are no outcast — you are my wife. And I will always defend your name and your honor. And The People will accept you as one of us, when you choose to accept it yourself.”
She drew a deep breath, and lifted her gaze to meet his. “Thank you, Boda.”
He nodded. “I only hope you feel the same way about me, someday.”
He kissed her on the forehead, then stood and strode from the teepee.
She chewed her bottom lip. Did he think she was ashamed of him? That’s how it’d sounded. As though he didn’t think she’d defend him. At least not in the same way as he did — always quick to stand up for her, to claim her as his wife. And would she? If she came to a white settlement, would she introduce him proudly as her husband? She knew the answer, and it made her heart sink.
How many years must she live with these people, with him, before she accepted it, accepted them? Would she spend the rest of her days feeling as though the life she lived was an accident, a misfortune, that she was waiting, forever waiting, to be saved from? A life spent waiting was a life wasted - at least that’s what Father always used to say. And perhaps he was right.
She loved Bodaway, that much she knew. So then, why did she continue to hold back a piece of her heart from him? It was because she lived under the constant strain of hope — hope that one day she’d be rescued, or have a chance to escape, back to her real life. But if this wasn’t a real life, then what was? A life in Cutter’s Creek? The town where she and Fred had planned to set up a home — was that where she imagined her real life should be? But Fred was gone, along with everything they’d owned in the world. And Cutter’s Creek was only a dream. One she’d likely never see come true.
She slumped back onto her sleeping mat, and covered her face with one arm, groaning against it. It was time she let go of that hope. Hope was holding her back from living her life. Holding her back from loving the one man who’d always stood by her, loved her, and defended her — even when he knew she didn’t feel the same way.
She leapt to her feet, and ran from the teepee. She saw Bodaway marching back toward the party, where the steady beat of drums and high pitched wails swelled against the night’s silence.
“Boda!” she cried.
He stopped, and spun about to face her, his eyebrows arched.
She ran to him, stumbling as she went, then threw her arms around his waist and buried her face into his shoulder. “Boda, I’m sorry.”
He lifted a hand to stroke her hair, and she raised her eyes to stare into his deep, dark, brown ones. “Sorry for what, Angpa?”
“For always holding back a part of myself. You were right — I hadn’t accepted my place with The People. But I will. From now on, I’m your wife, and I’m part of the Lakota tribe. I promise — no holding back.”
A slow grin split his face in two, and he lowered his lips until they hovered above hers. “It would make me so happy. But are you sure?”
She nodded, and lifted herself onto tip-toe to press her lips softly to his.
Chapter Nineteen
January 1872
Bodaway pulled Yarrow to a halt and slid from his back, his moccasin-clad feet landing silently on the soft earth. He bent to stare closely at the impressions left in the damp ground by an animal hours earlier. Deer spoor. He vaulted onto Yarrow’s back and signaled to the group to follow him.
Honovi rode close behind him, excitement in his eyes. Aside from being the chief, Bodaway’s father loved to hunt more than anything. The times they’d spent in the woods together, seeking the family’s next meal, were some of the happiest of Bodaway's childhood memories.
The deer were a few hours ahead of them still, but they’d catch up to them soon. In the thick of winter, the thin deer, weary and hungry, found it more and more difficult to locate grass. Here in the valley, they could dig up patches with their small hooves and find plenty to eat buried beneath the surface. The herd would take its time, and the hunters could cover the distance between them quickly on horseback.
Bodaway smiled in relief. The village would have plenty of fresh meat again. In recent months, they’d seen white settlers around every turn, setting up their sod or timber homes throughout the People’s lands as though they had every right to. Then last summer, he’d stumbled upon a prairie covered in slaughtered tatanka, only their heads missing, the valuable carcasses left to spoil in the sun. He’d worried the village wouldn’t have enough food to sustain them through the cold months.
But this herd they were tracking was large, and he could almost taste the venison. He licked his lips and swallowed hard as he led the group through the woods, ducking beneath a low-hanging hemlock branch.
A sound up ahead startled him and he signaled the group to stop. The ponies halted, shaking their heads and immediately searching for grass to nibble. “What is it?” Honovi asked, coming alongside Bodaway.