"You do not answer," Kills Hungry Bear remarked.
"I was thinking how much I have missed the ways of your people," Fox said honestly. "But I will answer you. I think that you speak the truth, although I have no real knowledge. I do know that people in the Black Hills are very angry about all the bluecoats who were killed with Long Hair."
Kills Hungry Bear's eyes hardened. "Did you know that he was the one who made the Thieves' Road into our sacred land, Paha Sapa, which you call the Black Hills? I will never understand why your people must have everything you see, no matter who is hurt. The whites believe that we are foolish. It must be because we have followed their advice so readily. For many years, we believed the promises that were made to us, but the only promise that was kept was the promise to take our land." He shut his eyes again. "I do not like this feeling in my heart, but it has been put there by the treachery of your people. Some of the Lakota are tired of resisting. Only a few of us remain to fight for what has belonged to us since the Great Spirit created our world."
Listening to Kills Hungry Bear's plainly spoken truths, Fox felt some of the clouds of guilt and confusion break up inside him. "I agree with you, my friend. I am sorry for the wrongs that have been done. I wish I could change what has happened."
The Indian laid the pipe down between them and surveyed the boundless star-strewn sky. "Do you know Crazy Horse?"
"I saw him only one time, but I have heard many stories about him."
"He is a great leader. I would rather die fighting beside him than live by the white man's rules."
"Where is he now?"
Kills Hungry Bear grinned, his teeth strong and white in the darkness. "He is making life hard for the whites who are trying to steal Paha Sapa from us. How much I have come to understand by his side! He has spent his whole life seeking the true path through visions from Wakan Tonka, the Great Spirit. Many men do not understand such things fully until they are old, but Crazy Horse knows that this world is only a shadow of the real world. Since he was a boy, he has been able to get into the real world when Wakan Tanka gives him dreams."
Fox knew that it was through dreams that Lakota youths found their names as men. "I have heard that Crazy Horse was called Curly when he was a boy, and that in his visions he saw his horse dancing so he took the name Crazy Horse."
"Yes!" Kills Hungry Bear was pleased by his friend's knowledge. "Crazy Horse knows much. He has watched the ways the bluecoats fight and thought about how to use that knowledge in battle against them. He also has learned that if he goes to the real world, through his dreams, before a fight, he can bear any test. Wakan Tanka also gave him special powers that helped him lead us that day we killed Long Hair and all his men."
"Crazy Horse is a great warrior," Fox observed. It was hard for him to think too much about the underlying story, the tale of that day at Little Bighorn. Each time it came into his mind, he felt a dark weariness. The answer eluded him and he had no heart to search for it yet.
"Crazy Horse is a great human being," Kills Hungry Bear said. Then, without further ceremony, he picked up his pipe and got to his feet. "I am glad you came to us, Fox-With-Blue-Eyes. The guns and food you have brought us are sorely needed. We are grateful."
As they returned to the village, Fox asked casually, "Do you have a wife, my friend?"
"Yes. She was afraid and so I sent her to the agency. I don't know what to do yet." He sighed softly and shrugged. "Sometimes I think I should take another wife, but I miss Little Dove. We have children. It is hard to think of courting another wife. Some men can manage more than one, but I am not sure, if Little Dove and I are reunited, that I could do this."
Kills Hungry Bear had stopped outside his tipi. It had grown late and the village was quiet except for the muffled stirrings of the pony herd and the occasional owl hoot or coyote howl in the distance. Knowing that Maddie would be anxious for news, Fox decided to trade on the renewed intimacy he felt with his friend after their long conversation. "Kills Hungry Bear... I wonder if there is a woman here in this village who is called Sun Smile."
The warrior gave him a sidelong glance and lifted the opening flap of the tipi. A sleeping figure could be glimpsed inside and a small dog rose to greet the latecomer. "I am weary. We will talk some more later. I hope that you and the woman with fire hair sleep well and wake refreshed."
A moment later, Fox stood alone in the dark village.
* * *
Maddie was conscious first of an odd smell. Slowly she opened her eyes and it seemed that she must be dreaming. A soft coral light illumined strange objects and a painting on rawhide. A fire, surrounded by a ring of stones, burned low so that only molten embers remained. Her face was pressed against thick brown fur and it came to her that this was the source of the smell. Not unpleasant, but... foreign. I am lying on a bed of buffalo fur, she thought, in an Indian tipi! Then she remembered that she had finally grown bored and tired waiting for Fox and had lain down on the bed, hoping that no rodents or insects would crawl over her if she closed her eyes. Now it must be the middle of the night; it seemed that an eternity had passed. Where was Fox? Had something happened to him? The thought made her heart beat faster.
"Uhm-gh," groaned a low, masculine voice. An instant later, a lean-muscled arm rounded Maddie's waist and drew her close.
Joy welled up in her. In his sleep, Fox cupped Maddie's breast and nuzzled the side of her neck, then made another sound of contentment that slid into the deep breathing of slumber. Tears sprang to her eyes as she looked down at the strong, brown hand that held her fast. It was all she could do to resist turning in his embrace and kissing him awake. Instead, she touched his warm fingers, snuggled her bottom backward against him, beaming, and gazed into the orange fireglow. This wasn't a dream. Much was uncertain, but for tonight, this was enough.
This was everything.
* * *
"I am called Strong," the Lakota woman said to Maddie in halting English. "Because I can talk with you, you come with me." A proud smile shone on her angular face and she added, "Today."
Madeleine had been warned by Fox when he went off to hunt antelope with the men that someone might come for her. If the women wanted to make her feel welcome, rather than leaving her alone in the tipi, it was a good sign and she must not turn them away. However, he added, with a backward glance, Maddie must not ask about Sun Smile. She must leave that matter to him.
"How do you know English?" she asked Strong, emerging with her from the tipi into the sunlight.
"I stay at the... agency a long time. I want to learn what white people are saying about me. I ask the agent's woman to teach me to speak the words." Strong smiled again at Maddie, started to reach for her hand, then drew back shyly. "Come. I will show you our ways."
Maddie soon found herself working alongside the women of the village. First, Strong gave her a drink to freshen her mouth. Pure cold spring water filtered through fresh mint leaves tasted so good that Maddie drank deeply, then smiled at her new friend. She watched as some women scraped the hair from skins that were staked to the ground while others did washing with a soap Strong called haipajaja.
Strong took Maddie with her and a few other women and children to dig tinpsila, a root plant that grew plentifully in the shadow of Bear Butte. The women tied them in bunches, then hung them on racks to dry after returning to the village. Strong explained that the white roots could be eaten raw, cooked in soup, or dried and stored for winter.
Many of the other fruits had passed their season. Gone were the strawberries, chokecherries, and wild currants, but the prickly pears were just beginning to ripen, and Strong picked one for Maddie to sample. The bright red fruit grew like jewels on the cactus and proved to be deliciously sweet and juicy.
When the sun rose high in the cerulean sky, Strong, Maddie, and the group of women and children filled their arms with the bunches of tinpsila and walked back to join the others in the village. Though dusty and perspiring, Maddie found that she enjoyed the sense of ca
maraderie that the women shared. It would be very pleasant to talk their language, she thought, to have a name that spoke for her, and to wear a soft, loose buckskin dress decorated to her own taste. White women rarely worked together this way, so they couldn't enjoy the conversation, laughter, and sympathy that accompanied shared tasks.
"I am learning much about your people that I like," she said to Strong, with a slight flush.
"It is good that you can learn," her new friend replied as they approached the village's edge. "Many of your race look down on us. They think that we are the ones who must learn."
"I regret that my people couldn't let yours live in peace," Maddie said honestly.
"Everything has changed. They have killed all the buffalo, which were our... livelihood." Strong gave a sad smile as she found the word. As the day went on, her English returned with more facility.
Maddie listened closely as Strong explained how the women had tried to adapt to life without the buffalo—or, at least, with far, far fewer of them. Now that white hunters had laid waste to the millions of buffalo that had once thundered over the plains, the Lakota tried to make do with deer, bear, antelope, even prairie dogs. Once, she said, a woman's work centered around making careful use of every part of the buffalo except the offal. Nothing else was wasted. Not only were the meat and hide essential, but even the ribs became sleds and toys, the horns were made into spoons, the outer lining of the stomach was used as a container for water, and the hooves were boiled for glue.
"We treated the buffalo with respect," Strong maintained. "We killed only as many as we truly needed, just as the Great Spirit intended."
Maddie averted her eyes, ashamed for the wasteful plunder of the white men. No one else spoke of it, but the sadness of change was in the air. Life was not the same as it had been since the world was created, and everyone seemed to understand that there was no going back.
* * *
"They make this food that they're so proud of!" Maddie whispered excitedly to Fox as they tended to the mules and Watson. The wagon was a few hundred yards from the village, but still she spoke as softly as she could, fearing someone would overhear and take offense. Everything that she had seen and learned that day was stored inside her, waiting to be shared with Fox. Now, as he brushed Watson and listened with fond attention, the words spilled out. "Strong called it hash, but it wasn't like any hash I ever heard of before. They roasted dry meat and pounded it with a special stone hammer and added some chokecherries. Then they melted fresh grease and mixed it with the pounded chokecherries and meat. Strong said that if this hash were properly kept, it would harden and remain edible for a long time." She stuck out her tongue and made a comical face to let Fox know what she thought of that.
He laughed, stroking Watson's silken flanks. "You're talking about wasna, and it's considered a real delicacy." He shook a finger at her in mock reproval. "Your new friends surely thought they were doing you a favor by teaching you that recipe, so keep your opinion between us!"
"Oh, I wouldn't hurt Strong's feelings for anything. What a wonderful day I had! When the real work was done, all the women bathed together in the stream, and it was such fun! They laughed and splashed one another and played like fish, and soon I was playing, too, as if it were the most natural thing in the world."
"It is," he said dryly.
Maddie blushed. "I know that's true, but it's hard to undo the habits of a lifetime." She fell silent for a time, thinking of the quiet activities that had filled the women's afternoon. During this hot part of the day, the entire village relaxed, either napping or resting together, or occupying the time with tasks like moccasin making or beadwork. Most of the men came back and either lay down with their families or fashioned arrows or other articles of war. The promise of battle hung always in the air. "What did you do this afternoon?" Maddie asked Fox. "I thought you might come back to our tipi."
"Kills Hungry Bear and I, along with some other men, unpacked the rifles from the crates and I showed them all how to load them. There are nearly six hundred warriors here, so there are still not enough guns for all, but they'll be a help." Straightening, Fox stared out over the prairie and sighed harshly. "Of course, the eventual outcome is inevitable. Perhaps it's not a favor to delay it."
Maddie's heart hurt at the thought that these people were doomed. Disturbed, she sought to change the subject. "Fox?..."
"Hmm?" Suddenly he looked tired and came over to lean against the side of the wagon, his arm brushing hers.
"I saw a woman today who was most unusual. At least, I think it was a woman. It must have been, because she was called Woman's Dress and wore a dress and was helping the other women to make hash... but she had a deep voice and broad shoulders—"
Fox's laughter cut her off. "You are charming. Did Woman's Dress bathe with the rest of you?... I thought not. She, or more accurately he, is what the Lakota people call a wintke. There are just as many men like Woman's Dress among the whites, but they are usually forced to pretend to be other than the way they were born. The Indians have a wonderful philosophy about wintkes. They believe that each man's destiny is revealed to him in a dream provided by the Great Spirit—at about the time boys begin to become men. If some men behave more like women, it is accepted and they have an important place among the people." As the clouds darkened and swelled in the west, Fox shaded his eyes, watching as he continued, "Wintkes help to take care of the women in the village when all the men are away. Often they tend to the wounded after a battle. Thinking back, I remember meeting Woman's Dress a few years ago. Someone mentioned him and I expected a woman when I heard the name. As I recall, Woman's Dress was a childhood friend of Crazy Horse's, called Pretty One then. It would seem that they've remained friends." He smiled. "The Lakota people have a basic respect for God. They aren't quick to ridicule His creations."
Maddie listened with wide eyes. "Indians have an astonishing gift for living!" she exclaimed at last. "How wise they are."
"We can learn a great deal from them," he agreed, "but don't elevate all of them to sainthood. These people are as human as you are." He paused as he realized that she was not receptive to his words. Everything and everyone here was so new to Maddie—no wonder she was a bit spellbound. "You're happy, aren't you?"
"Very." She gave him a radiant smile.
"It's hard to believe that you are the same stiff-backed proper lady I met just a few weeks ago." Slowly Fox trailed a fingertip down her slim arm, then raised her hand and kissed the palm.
"I was never stiff-backed," Maddie protested weakly.
"My dear Miss Avery, you most certainly were!" He narrowed his eyes at the clouds again, then appeared to smell the breeze. "I think a storm may be brewing. Shall we go back to the village?"
"First, can I ask you about one other person?"
As he led the mules and Watson to the shelter of the Cottonwood trees, Fox looked back over his shoulder. "I'm listening, sweet."
The casual endearment made her heart skitter. Trailing in his wake, she described the woman she'd seen last night, so soon after their arrival in the village. "Is she mad, do you think? I saw her again today and she looked just as hideous as before. Why doesn't someone help her? Under the filth, she's pretty, but I could swear that her legs and arms are scarred, and that she's rubbed mud or something into the wounds! There may be bugs living in her hair, but when we all bathed today, she just sat on the shore and watched." Maddie paused for breath, then hurried on. "She needed a bath more than all the other women combined, but she didn't even wash her face, and no one seemed to think that this was the slightest bit unusual. Now, don't tell me she's a winky, or whatever you called them, because it's very obvious that she's a female!"
"Now what could you mean by that?" Fox teased. Slipping an arm around Maddie's waist, he grinned and gave her a squeeze, then let his fingers drift caressingly over her hip and, more daringly, her bottom. "Is that what you mean?"
"Stop that and answer me," she scolded with mock severity.
The smell of meat cooking wafted out to them on the evening air, and Fox suddenly realized that he was ravenous. "The woman you describe is almost certainly in mourning," he explained while guiding Maddie back toward the village. "That's the way Lakota wives behave when they've lost their husbands. It's normal, which is why none of the other women appear disturbed by her appearance. New widows wail and cut themselves and generally wallow in their own dirt for about a year—"
"What?" Maddie interjected, horrified. "But, that's so... so uncivilized!"
Before Fox could elaborate further, his attention was diverted by the sight of a cloud of dust moving rapidly across the prairie. Now he could make out a horse and rider, galloping like the wind toward the village from the south. The approaching Indian rode bareback and brandished a lance in one raised hand, and his dark hair flew behind him like a banner. Others in the village had also sighted the rider. Cries of welcome multiplied as people emerged from their tipis and rushed to meet the man.
"What's happening?" Maddie asked, filled with fresh curiosity. "Who is that? Do you know? Is he dangerous—or important?"
"You might say that," Fox replied cryptically. "That's Crazy Horse."
Chapter 18
August 7, 1876
Everyone was curious to see what plunder Crazy Horse had brought back from Paha Sapa, the sacred hills now overrun by whites. However, after sliding from the back of his yellow pinto, Crazy Horse spoke not to the adults but sent the village's crier to bring the children to him.
Fox and Maddie were caught up in the crowd of people who rushed toward the stream to meet the great Oglala warrior. He removed the things he had slung over his pony's back and now led the animal to drink, standing quietly to one side. Maddie saw that Crazy Horse did not have the commanding physical size she had expected of so renowned a warrior and hero. Of barely medium height, he was lithe, with dark hair that might have been more brown than black, a high, sharp nose, and ebony eyes that remained alert despite the long day's travel.
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