by Sandi Rog
The women outside continued chattering just as vehemently as before.
Song Bird squeezed her hands. “Do not eat meat from boiled water. Meat must be roasted over coals. If camp moves, only ride mare.”
With each second, the women’s voices seemed to get louder and louder. More words of “White Eagle wounded in next battle” and “unclean woman” came to her ears, while at the same time, Song Bird rattled off the rules. Anna looked to the women then to Song Bird, their voices hammering her from both sides.
Stifling a wail, she yanked her hands from Song Bird, pushed through the women who had gathered at the door, and ran toward the lake.
When she could run no more and found she was alone, she stumbled toward a small boulder, dropped to her knees and buried her face in her arms.
“I want to go home. God, why won’t You let me go home?” She wailed and wept as hard and loud as she wanted. Thankfully no one was around, but perhaps if her cries were heard, they would want to get rid of her and gladly send her away. Oh, how she wished she could crawl under the rock and never come out. “Where are You, God? Why are You always so far away?”
When Anna could cry no more, she turned to look out over the pretty lake, keeping her cheek on her arms, too weary to sit up. Despite her misery, she couldn’t help but notice the blue sky and steep hills reflecting off the water, and the quiet rustle of wind in the nearby trees. As if God were whispering to her.
No more tears. You must be brave. She could hear her father’s words. Remember, I may be leaving, but the Lord is always with you. You won’t be alone.
Anna always wondered about that statement. She’d never felt more alone than during her uncle’s beatings. Why hadn’t God rescued her from him? If she wasn’t alone, then where was He?
Wiping her nose, she decided to be strong for her father. She sniffed back her tears and dried her cheeks, noticing the smeared paint on her hands. She must be a dreadful sight.
Someone or something tugged on her braid. She whirled around.
White Eagle, with a sparkle in his eyes, knelt next to her. She hadn’t even heard him or felt his presence.
“You.” She straightened. The last person she wished to see. “What are you doing here? Leave me alone. Go away.” She covered her mouth. “But don’t go home.” She thought her tears were spent, but she felt like crying all over again.
“I’ve already been home.”
“Oh, how dreadful!” She buried her face in her arms again, not daring to look him in the eyes. “I’ve never been so humiliated! Song Bird never told me . . . . Now your people believe I’ve put a curse on you. Not only that, the entire village knows about . . . and now you know.” She wailed. “Go away! You’re not even supposed to touch me.”
White Eagle cleared his throat; it resembled a chuckle.
Her head shot up, and she noticed amusement in his eyes. “What are you laughing at? Is my situation so amusing to you?” She swiped her tears, noticing the paint again, and bristled. “I’ll have you know, this is all your fault!”
“My fault?” White Eagle straightened in mock defense. “I didn’t wander into a brave’s lodge with—”
“Oh, don’t say it!” She stood, mortified. She marched off toward the village, anything to get away from him. If anyone saw them together, she could get into trouble. The other women had already made their opinions loud and clear.
But he followed, and they walked in silence.
She recalled the night in the woods when she first tried to escape. The anger in his voice when he thought it was her time then. Now she understood his concern. He would have been cursed. But now the inevitable happened. In his mind, she’d cursed him anyway.
Finally, she mustered up the courage to speak. “Are you angry with me?” she asked, her voice sounding small.
“No.” He sighed, as if realizing something. “Listen. The only reason I was angry before was for your own sake. If the other braves thought you might be in your time, they would have killed you.”
Anna gasped and shuddered. The thought of being killed for such a thing was awful. Thank the Lord White Eagle wasn’t like the other braves. But would he still be willing to take her to Denver City?
That’s the question she really wanted to ask. Dare she? Dare she approach the subject at a time like this?
“What’s wrong?” He sounded concerned and bent close to her. “I’m not going to hurt you, Anna.”
His words took her by surprise. She shook her head. “I’m not worried about t—that.”
“Then what is it?”
“I—well—will you still take me—I mean, after the Indian wedding—uh. You promised dat—that—” She was a babbling idiot. There was no way she could get the words out. Bringing up Denver meant bring up their impending marriage. What if he changed his mind? She’d be trapped with his people and their strange ways for the rest of her life.
The corner of his lip twitched and amusement flashed in his eyes. “You’re nervous.”
“Nervous?” She put a trembling hand to her chest. He’d promised to take her. Why wouldn’t he now?
“I’ll take you to that city.” He cocked a brow. “On one condition.”
“What condition?” She bristled. She thought the only condition was marriage.
He grinned, flashing white teeth, giving her the impression that he might be toying with her. “Repeat what I say, and I’ll give you my word.”
She swallowed. “What do I have to say?”
“Three thousand, three hundred. and thirty-three trees.”
“What?”
“Say it.”
“Why?” She fisted her hands at her sides. “Why do I have to say something so silly?”
He turned away from her as if he might leave. “You don’t have to say it.”
“Tree thousand, tree hundred, and thirty-tree trees.”
“Again.”
“Nay—no!”
He shrugged and walked away.
“Tree tousand, tree hundred and tirty-tree trees.” Wishing the ground would swallow her whole, she crossed her arms. “There I said it. Now, give me your word.”
Grinning, he faced her. “I’ll take you there.” Humor danced in his eyes. “You must have forgotten that night in the woods. I’d already given you my word.”
Her mouth dropped open and she wanted to stomp her foot, but watching the humor in his eyes and seeing her silly self reflected there, she couldn’t help but smile. “Tank—Thank you.”
He stepped closer and looked down at her, his warm gaze and raven hair making her head swim. But her head stopped swimming when he lifted her tail of leaves.
She gasped.
Ignoring her tail, she tried to bring her mind back to the issue at hand. “I’m sorry if you believe I put a curse on you.”
“Pray the Great Spirit will have mercy.” He sounded sarcastic. “But if I’m wounded in my next battle, it will be a fond memory of you.” He cocked his head and grinned.
She straightened. “What a terrible memory to have of me.”
He shrugged. “It’s like dipping my hand in honeycomb. I’ve risked getting stung just to have a taste of sweet.”
She stepped back, unsure how to react. His words made her think of poetry, the verses she had to read over the years, only this sounded so natural, real.
Still holding her tail, he crossed his arms. “That’s what happens when you take something—or in this case, someone—that doesn’t belong to you.” He swung the end of her tail.
She reached for it, but he jerked it away.
To her shock, he pulled on it, dragging her closer.
“By touching and speaking to me, you’ve made it worse for yourself,” she whispered, breathless and surprised he’d want her this close. Her head began swimming again.
His lips pulled into a slow smile. “Then I’ll suffer the consequences.”
~*~
The following day as Anna roasted meat outside the menstrual lodge with other women,
a shout carried up not far from where they worked.
A man stood outside his lodge. He shouted as though he were making a grand announcement, motioning with his arms for emphasis.
Anna felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Song Bird. “His daughter, Little Deer, passed from childhood to womanhood. She begin first menstruation.”
Anna’s face went hot.
“You watch. This great honor. She can now become mother and will add to number of tribe. To its power and importance.”
The man shouted again, his voice stilling the movements of those around him. He then turned and re-entered his lodge.
“To show satisfaction, he give a horse to family of Bear Claws,” Song Bird explained. “That is family of boy she one day marry.”
Soon the girl, Little Deer, came out of the lodge wrapped in a blanket with her grandmother by her side. They walked toward the lake, while other older women followed.
“Today you to learn our tradition.” Song Bird took Anna by the arm and urged her to follow. “A woman’s time is not one of shame.”
Unless you curse a warrior, Anna thought. But curious to learn more about the traditions surrounding this important event, she followed. Her mind turned back to her own first menstrual experience. She’d thought she was dying until she finally expressed her anxiety to one of her uncle’s maids. Thankfully, the maid had told Anna that it was a normal occurrence for all women and taught her what she needed to know.
When Anna was older, she’d even read about this in the Bible. Somewhere in the Old Testament. Women in their time were considered unclean. Why they were considered unclean when they couldn’t help it or do anything about it, Anna would never understand. Back then, the women had to leave the camp and would stay away in their own tents—much like the Cheyenne did today. It made her wonder how they came to practice such a similar custom on their own.
Life had been lonely with her uncle, especially compared to being surrounded by so many women, so many people now. Sometimes all the attention felt overwhelming.
Down by the lake in the cover of trees and bushes, the young girl unbraided her hair and the older women helped her to undress. Unashamed, she stepped down into the water and bathed herself. When she was finished, the women wrapped her in a blanket and they walked back to the menstrual lodge. The older women laughed as they painted Little Deer’s whole body red. They then draped a robe over her, and she sat near the fire.
Song Bird nudged Anna. “They have this ceremony in home lodge, but I think they do this here for you.”
The other women smiled, as did Little Deer.
Anna felt herself blush, touched by their thoughtfulness. How nice it would have been to have had someone care for her in this way during her transition into womanhood. But this experience was a new transition, and they were here for her now.
Little Deer’s grandmother took a coal from the fire and put it in front of the girl. She then sprinkled sweet grass, juniper needles, and white sage on it. Little Deer bent over the coal and held her robe open so that the smoke rising from the incense feathered around her body.
Chapter Eleven
“Wake up.” Song Bird poked Anna to get out of bed.
Anna moaned, peeled back the covers and staggered to her feet. A dim light flickered off the skinned walls. Song Bird had started a small fire, and its smoke wafted through the opening at the top of the lodge.
Four weeks had passed since Anna arrived. It required her total focus to adjust to the ways of the Cheyenne, while Beth seemed to do so without problems. Anna was used to work, but she just wasn’t accustomed to physical labor. She was too much of a city girl, while Beth was familiar with living off the land, foraging for food in the outdoors, cooking over an open fire, and collecting wood and water. Still, Anna did her best.
If her calculations were right, it was the last week of June, and time was drawing near for her to report to teaching duty. She had until the beginning of August, but she needed time to get settled. When would White Eagle marry her and take her to Denver? How long must she wait?
She stretched her aching body, willing it to come alive and at the same time longing to crawl back in bed.
The sun wasn’t up, and as usual she made herself ready to go fetch water from the lake. After the women collected water, they fetched wood for the fires. Beth could still strap more wood on her back than Anna. Later, she would have to search for roots, berries, and other plants in the forest, which would be used for foods and medicines.
Yawning, Anna slipped into her dress as Song Bird fiddled with something on the other side of the lodge. Anna had gotten used to sleeping in her chemise with Yellow Leaf around, and her strict sense of propriety seemed to be waning. She couldn’t be sure if that was good or not.
“Take dress off,” Song Bird said.
Anna looked at her questioningly.
Song Bird pulled out a garment from behind her back. “I make dress for you. It is gift.” She smiled and held up a pair of moccasins. “Take off boots.”
Anna admired the beautiful fringes along the buckskin sleeves and skirt as Song Bird helped her slip into the dress, a longer version of what the other women wore. Song Bird was likely being sensitive to her modesty. It revealed much of her arms with fringes above the elbow. Jagged patterns were cut along the hem of the skirt, and more fringes lined the seam. A slit ran up the center to the back of her knees, and the bodice, sewn with sinew, gathered below her bosom. The dress hugged her body, and her hair hung in all directions around it.
She took off her boots and slipped her feet with reverence into the moccasin skins. They felt soft and flexible on her stiff feet. What a relief to be out of those boots. Everything was beautiful.
“Thank you,” Anna said, her voice hitching. She didn’t deserve such a nice gift, and because she would leave one day, guilt pricked her conscience because of Song Bird’s kindness.
“You wel—welcome,” Song Bird said. She smiled and brushed her fingers through Anna’s hair and began to braid it. It gave Anna a warm feeling all over, as if she were Song Bird’s daughter. No one ever combed her hair before, other than her nanny—and White Eagle that day by the river. She’d definitely wear her hair clip again today.
The new dress gave her freedom of movement, not to mention a cool and airy feeling, though it did feel a bit strange without so many layers. First thing she would do was clean her traveling dress and mend its tears. She had to look presentable when she arrived in Denver City—if she ever got there.
Anna had seen very little of White Eagle in the past week; the last time she saw him was the day she cursed him. Her cheeks still flamed just thinking about it. Song Bird said he was patrolling the area for a black bear. It was frightening to think of all the wild animals that roamed these parts. Thankfully, she had grown accustomed to the howls of the coyotes.
Song Bird finished twisting her hair into one long braid, and Anna used the clasp that White Eagle had made for her and bound it together.
When she and Song Bird joined the other women for their early morning stroll to the lake, she noticed that Beth wore a dress similar to hers. They both exchanged giggles.
“It feels wonderful not to be wearing that clunky old dress,” Beth said.
Anna laughed at her description, but it was so true, she couldn’t help but agree.
“From now on, I’m going to call you by your Cheyenne name, Walks Alone. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind.” Anna forced a smile. Really she minded very much, but it wasn’t like she had any choice. It was what everyone else around here called her. “Are you happy with your name?”
Beth’s face lit up with a bright smile; she was so beautiful. “I adore it. It sounds so pretty in Cheyenne. Don’t you think?”
Anna nodded. Since she didn’t like her own name, she thought Beth wouldn’t like hers either. Perhaps Anna didn’t like her name because it had a season of truth to it? Half her life she’d been alone. And despite being su
rrounded by so many people and new friends, loneliness still nipped at her heels.
“I want you to meet my new friend.” Beth pulled a young woman next to her. “Anna, this is Laughs Like A River.” Beth hugged the woman to her side. “Doesn’t she have a beautiful name?”
“Oh, yes. Very beautiful.” Anna smiled at the young woman who smiled in return. Her buckskin dress spilled over one shoulder, and she wore a necklace made of pipes separated by colorful stones.
“When sun come up, water is dead,” Song Bird said, grabbing their attention, her English improving. “Women get water before sunrise. Living water is better and good for spirit.” She was always teaching Anna the ways of the Cheyenne. She said this every morning during their trek to the lake, since it was Cheyenne tradition to fill their kettles before the sun rose in the sky. They believed the water came to life at night.
Song Bird and Laughs Like A River walked on ahead, and Beth pulled Anna aside. “I learned more about Running Cloud,” she said as they made their way toward the water. “He used to fight in the Indian wars and go on raids with an Indian called Black Bear and killed settlers. He’s a murderer, Anna, or at least he was. They say after the battle at Summit Springs, he stopped. I think he wants to marry me so that the whites will leave this village alone. With a white woman married to the war chief, the white men are less likely to attack. Or so he thinks. “
“Oh, Beth.” Anna stopped walking. Her friend would marry a murderer. And what might Anna be doomed to marry? “Did White Eagle raid with Running Cloud and the others?”
“I don’t know. From what I can understand, he definitely fought against the Union soldiers.”
Anna nodded, recalling his descriptions of the battles when he showed her his ledger.
“The language is so frustrating at times,” Beth said, changing the subject. “I try to follow what they’re saying, but then they lose me completely. I feel like a child all over again, just trying to learn to speak and carry on a normal conversation. I’ve managed to collect only this much information over the past four weeks since we’ve arrived.”