Another thing peculiar to the village, versus Nikki’s modern time, was the lack of noise—or perhaps, more aptly, the difference between the sounds of the two centuries. Children still laughed and squealed and cried, of course. But they didn’t whiz by on skateboards, boom boxes blaring from their shoulders. In place of horns and squealing tires, Nikki was more apt to hear the snort and stamp of a horse. When the wind kicked up, it whistled through pines and tree boughs, but did not whine through power lines. In the wigewa, there was only the crackle of the fire, no hum of electric appliances, no constant chatter from radios or televisions, no phones ringing.
“Egad! I can actually hear myself think, for once,” Nikki marveled. “I just hope the peace and quiet doesn’t start to drive me up a wall after awhile.”
“Which reminds me,” Silver Thorn said. “The birch strips I cut earlier in the spring should now be dried and ready to use. As soon as I am able, we will tear down these old wigewa walls and replace them with fresh ones.”
“Say what?” she queried. “We, as in you and I, are going to replace the walls? Why? They look perfectly fine to me. A little smoke-cured, but nothing a good coat of paint wouldn’t fix.”
He chuckled. “Oh, Neeake, you do have much to learn of our ways. Fresh birch smells good and will repel rain better. It will also discourage mosquitos and other insects. Are you not the one who is constantly mewling about such things and checking your hair for lice?”
“Well, why didn’t you say so sooner?” she griped. “If I’d known that, I would have reshingled the blamed thing myself.”
It was after midnight, in the wee hours of the morning, when Silver Thorn grumbled, “Woman, why is it you cannot settle down so that we may both rest? Trying to sleep with you this night is like lying next to a sack full of mating chipmunks!”
“I can’t help it!” Nikki whined. “I itch! All over, as if I’ve been bitten by a thousand mosquitos or bedbugs or something! God knows this wigewa is probably full of them. I swear, I’m going to burn this pest-ridden hut down tomorrow. I’ll sleep in the open, in the rain if I have to, until we can erect a new one with that fresh birch.”
Silver Thorn sighed. “Neeake, we have burned birch in our fire, and that is sufficient to drive away all the bugs you worry about. I have seen none and have not heard one mosquito all evening.”
“That doesn’t mean squat!” she retorted. “It’s a known scientific fact that only the male mosquito makes that irritating droning noise, and he doesn’t bite. The female is the one who sneaks up on you without a sound and nabs you.” She scratched fervently again, raking her nails over her arms.
“If you would just lie still and think of something more pleasant,” he suggested, “the itch would most likely go away.”
Through grated teeth, she snarled, “Darn it, Thorn, it is not my imagination! I can feel the blasted bumps on my skin!”
He said nothing, but rose and chose a piece of birch bark from the woodpile. Twisting it into a torch, he held it to the coals until it flared into flame. “Let me see your arms, Neeake,” he said. “Perhaps then we can solve this problem and get to sleep.”
The moment he saw the blisters, he could have kicked himself for making light of her misery. For her part, upon seeing them, Nikki wished they had been insect bites. “Oh, no! Look at this! I’m covered with poison ivy!”
“My poor pet!” Thorn exclaimed in commiseration. “No wonder you are so uncomfortable. We must put a balm on it immediately.” So saying, he located his herb pouch and rummaged through it.
“I hope you have something better than calamine lotion in there,” Nikki challenged. “And I hope you really enjoyed those berries I picked for you, since I’d almost bet that’s where I got into the poison ivy.”
Silver Thorn returned with a leather packet and hunched down beside her. “Lie down, and I will apply this to the blisters.”
“What is it?” she questioned warily.
“A salve made from a forest plant. You may know it as a woods lily, one James Galloway calls Solomon’s Seal for the six-pointed star beneath the stem.”
He spread the cream onto her skin, rubbing some in and leaving a generous overcoating. Not only were her arms and hands blotched with the rash, but big patches were erupting on her legs, neck, chest, and back. There was even a spot starting on her chin.
The balm was cool and soothing and brought a measure of relief almost instantly. “Oh, thank you!” she sighed. “That feels so good . . . so very good.”
“You must cease your scratching, for it will only worsen the malady,” he told her.
“I know. I’ve had this before. But it’s so hard not to scratch. Would you tell a dog not to scratch at a flea?”
“You are not a dog and should have more control.” Finished with her front side, he flipped her onto her stomach. “However, if you cannot govern your own actions, I can bind your hands in cloth, though it would actually do little to remedy matters.”
Nikki cranked her head around to glare at him. “I am not a child, and I do not need a pair of mittens.”
In the process of smearing the lotion on her bottom, Silver Thorn gave her a gentle whack with the palm of his hand. “Then lie still and behave yourself.” He dropped a dollop on her back and smoothed it across her shoulders, massaging her tense muscles as he went. “Tomorrow we will gather more cures for you. Had it occurred to me that you were sensitive to the ivy, we could have prevented it beforehand.”
“How?” The word emerged on a grunt of pleasure as he kneaded her back and buttocks.
“The juice of the No-Touch flower can bathe away the sap of the ivy. If you wash with it, the blisters do not appear.”
“Mmmn. That’s nice. Don’t stop.” Nikki was now in a cataleptic state of bliss.
His hands worked their way down her thighs, her calves, to the arches of her feet. His thumb prodded, wringing another grateful groan from her. Lulled nearly to sleep, she smiled as she felt him kiss her toe.
“If you keep that up, you’re gonna get poison ivy on your tongue,” she warned drowsily.
She heard the laughter in his voice as he replied softly, “More likely, I will experience an eruption of a different sort on another part of my body entirely. But that can wait until another time. Sleep now, little goose, and fly on the wings of sweet dreams.”
For the next four days, Nikki went around looking like a badly speckled pup. Her sole consolation was that, as long as she used the lotions Silver Thorn had prepared for her, the itching was greatly reduced. In fact, his herbal remedies worked far better than those she would normally have purchased at a pharmacy. In light of this, she had to concede that perhaps there was something to great grandma’s chicken-soup cure after all.
Moreover, as they’d walked through the woods collecting plants and roots for his cache, she’d been astounded when Silver Thorn had pointed out the source of his opium-like powder.
“Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat! I can’t believe it! These trees grow all over the state! Not in any great abundance, but we do have them. Actually, there’s one growing just down the road from my dad’s farm. My brothers and I used to collect the nuts and string them for necklaces. And those are nuts, Thorn. When you said fruit, I thought you meant something like an apple or berry.”
He shrugged. “Nuts. Fruit. Regardless, they cannot be eaten.”
“Damn straight! From the time we were old enough to walk, my parents warned us how lethal they are. Pretty, but poisonous.”
“Then your learned doctors have not yet discovered its hidden powers? They have remained a secret, as the Shawnee intended?”
Nikki gave an energetic nod. “Believe me, if our scientists knew what they’d overlooked, they’d be beside themselves. Especially when it’s been right under their noses all the while. They’d pay big bucks to discover something of this magnitude.
“No amount of deerskin would be worth revealing this long-held secret.”
“Deerskin? I was speaking of money. Dol
lars.”
“Do you not trade in pelts and skins?”
“That went out with the bustle, sweetheart,” she said with a grin. “Buying and selling is now done with printed money and coins. Not to mention credit cards, loans, and a multitude of other methods. However, your way certainly has its merits. I can only imagine how it could frustrate the IRS!” she added on a hoot of laughter.
“What is this IRS?” he asked curiously.
Nikki’s nose wrinkled as if she’d just gotten a whiff of something rotten. “Officially, it’s the Internal Revenue Service, the government division that collects federal taxes on a person’s yearly wages. Of course, every working man and woman believes they collect far more than is fair. I’ve heard the IRS referred to as the Infernal Revenue Service often enough to know that a few thousand citizens would like to throw another tea party in Boston Harbor.”
“If the citizens are that discontent, why have they not?” he wanted to know. “It appears to have worked well the first time.”
Respect for him gleamed from her eyes. “I sometimes forget how well educated you are. I see you have read accounts of early American history.
“But to answer your question, Americans gripe a lot, but they can also be notoriously disorganized. We hold elections, and somehow the representatives who have promised to help repair the ills of Congress rarely remember to do so once they are voted into office. Some of them give it an honest try; but on the whole they’re in the minority, so nothing ever really improves much.
“But there’s always hope for next year, the next champion-of-the-people, and so forth. Someday, the public will create enough of a stink that the government won’t be able to ignore the people’s issues any longer; but in order for that to happen, we first need a strong, influential leader who can really shake things up in Washington. Someone with the courage of George Washington, the honesty of Abe Lincoln, the fortitude of a Roosevelt, and the charisma of John Kennedy.”
An ironic thought struck her. “If Tecumseh weren’t so misguided, he’d be exactly what America needs in 1996!”
Chapter Thirteen
Konah, when informed of her relationship to Nikki, greeted the staggering news with a simplistic acceptance that Nikki envied. Konah was also genuinely delighted.
“Welcome, granddaughter,” she said, as she drew Nikki into her embrace. Then Konah giggled. “That sounds so odd when you are of my same age, does it not?”
“It will definitely take some getting used to,” Nikki agreed. “You don’t seem terribly surprised or upset about this, or maybe you don’t really believe it.”
Konah’s dark eyes twinkled. “Knowing your husband, I believe. Since I was a child, I have been amazed at the ability he and Tecumseh have to make strange and wonderful things occur.”
“What about the Prophet? Isn’t he, too, something of a magician?”
Konah shook her head. “Compared to his brothers, he is but a pretender, a common prankster. I think it is his jealousy of his more talented brothers that makes Tenskwatawa so hateful and ugly.”
“From all I have heard of him, if he would divert his energies to better use, he might also be capable of great deeds,” Nikki proposed.
Konah shrugged. “Perhaps, but I doubt it.”
“Tell me about Silver Thorn and some of the unusual feats he has accomplished,” Nikki urged.
Konah smiled and complied. “Once, when his canoe was floating away, I saw him make the river run backward, the better to retrieve it.”
Nikki chuckled. “Why that stinker! That trick would certainly have come in handy a couple of times on our trip up here, if he’d only chosen to employ it. What else has he done?”
Konah thought a moment. “He and my husband were out hunting two summers past and surprised a mother bear with her cubs. The bear gave chase. Knowing they could not outrun her, Skotai Kitehi and Silver Thorn climbed into a tree, hoping the bear would not follow. When the bear stood beneath them roaring and clawing at them, Silver Thorn called to her. Fire Heart swears that when the bear looked into Silver Thorn’s eyes, she turned as tame as a river turtle. Calmly, she went back to her cubs, and the two hunters went on their way, unharmed.”
Nikki gnawed her lip thoughtfully. “I wonder if bears can be hypnotized,” she mused. At Konah’s questioning look, she clarified, “Put in a trance.”
Again Konah gave a nonchalant shrug. “With Silver Thorn, anything is possible.”
“Amen!” Nikki breathed. “Living with him is like standing on the brink of a cliff, knowing a stiff breeze could come along at any minute and knock you off. It’s fascinating, but at the same time, it’s nerve-wracking.”
Konah was extremely curious about Nikki’s previous life and family. The two women spent many hours happily trading tales. Also, as women tended to do everywhere and in every age, they talked about wifely concerns. Raising children. Cooking, cleaning, keeping their husbands satisfied. Health and hygiene.
The latter led Nikki to confide, “You don’t know how lucky you are to have such sparse body hair, Konah. I wish I’d inherited that trait, as well as some others. Unfortunately, along with my violet eyes, I also acquired a few undesirable genes from my mother’s side of the family.”
She hiked up her skirt and poked out a leg. “See? Right now, I’d give my eyeteeth for a razor. I’ve been here over two weeks now, and my legs are so hairy I’m starting to feel like an ape. If I don’t find a way to shave them soon, I might as well begin braiding them.”
Konah wrinkled her nose and laughed. “Horse-blanket legs. The better to keep your husband warm at night,” she teased.
“Go ahead and laugh, but I’ll bet if you had this problem it wouldn’t be so funny.”
“How did you rid yourself of this terrible affliction before?” Konah asked, assuming feigned gravity. Her twitching lips gave lie to her somberness.
“Shaving, plucking, waxing. You name it.”
“This shaving scrapes the hair off, yes?”
Nikki nodded. “Plucking is better, but only if you use a device similar to an electric razor that pulls many hairs out at once. Otherwise, you could spend a month of Sundays tweezing your legs one strand at a time.”
“And waxing?” Konah inquired.
“You smear wax over your legs, or upper lip for that matter, let it cool and tear it off. It literally rips the hair off. Painful, but effective.”
“Why do you not try the wax here, then? Or is bees’ wax not the same as you use?”
Nikki’s face lit up as she hugged Konah hard. “You’re a genius! Why didn’t I think of that?”
Konah laughed and affected a superior attitude, her nose in the air. “Because I am the grandmother. Besides, everyone knows the Snow Bird is smarter than the Wild Goose.”
Having Konah and Melassa to confide in was wonderful. It was Melassa who told Nikki what to expect as her pregnancy advanced. She and Konah both instructed her on which foods to avoid, how best to counter morning sickness, and what balm to use on her breasts and tummy to prevent stretch marks.
They also taught Nikki more about their daily life and the varied tasks she must learn. Along with cooking, herbal cures, and caring for the crops came Nikki’s first sewing project. She watched queasily as Konah demonstrated how to scrape the deer hides and stretch and soften them with a mixture of brains and liver.
When they were soft and pliable, all hair and matter removed from them, Konah turned the skins over to Nikki. “Now they are ready for you to smoke them on the frame I showed you how to erect over your fire. Use the fresh white cedar Turtle gathered for you, and the leather will become light cream or tan in color. Then you can cut and sew it into clothing.”
Along with the hides, she handed Nikki a pile of rawhide strips to be used in place of thread and three needles made of fishbone. “When you are done, you can decorate it with dyed porcupine quills in any design you choose.” She indicated her own blouse. “Very pretty, yes?”
Nikki had to agree, for Ko
nah’s top was quite ornate. “Yes, very beautiful. I only hope I can do half as well. Are you sure I shouldn’t start with something easier than a shirt for Silver Thorn, though? Like maybe a nice, flat, rectangular breechcloth? I never was any great shakes in home-ec class.”
“If you use an old shirt for a pattern, you will do fine,” Konah assured her. “Fortunately, your man has reached his full growth, unlike my sons, Turtle and Red Pipe, who are growing faster than the weeds in the corn patch.”
Clamping her hands over Nikki’s shoulders, Konah gave her a light push in the direction of Silver Thorn’s wigewa. “Go, now. Make your husband proud of his new wife.”
Nikki tried, but Murphy’s Law seemed to be working overtime. The fire filled the wigewa with smoke, making her cough and her eyes smart. Only then did she recall Konah saying she should dig a separate firepit outside over which to smoke the hides. To make things worse, the frame she’d fashioned from green willow branches was much more flimsy than the one Konah had made. The ties kept wanting to come undone, and the whole structure would list and droop, no matter how carefully she placed it over the fire. The hides didn’t have a mind to stay put, either, and kept sliding off onto the dirt floor. At one point, the entire frame collapsed onto the smoking wood, charring the leather before Nikki could rescue it from the coals.
After several unsuccessful attempts, Nikki said, “To heck with it!” Holding the scorched skin up and viewing it with a critical eyes, she decided, “Better whole than holey. Another hour or so wouldn’t really change the color much anyway, I don’t suppose. Besides, if it sucked in as much smoke as I have, I think we can call it done.”
Next came the challenge of marking and cutting the hide. Using an old shirt of Silver Thorn’s as a pattern and a piece of charred wood in lieu of tailor’s chalk, Nikki set to work. After the end of her stick broke for the fourth time, Nikki tossed it aside. Digging into her purse, she located her eyeliner in her cosmetic case and did much better. Soon she had the pieces outlined.
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