by Stephy Smith
Rising Wolf’s large hands cupped her face. He tilted her head and brushed her lips with his. Being pregnant twisted her emotions. She never knew from one moment to the next if she would be happy or sad. It became an everyday thing for the tears to flow, and she hated it. Her persona had always been the strong, unemotional type. Since the bear attack, it hadn’t taken much to set the fluid flowing down her cheeks.
Even though she knew he loved her and wouldn’t blame her for any of the events or thoughts she may have had at the time, the doubts still flooded her insides. With a quick twist, she exited the lodge and strolled to the river.
Gurgles and splashes calmed her nerves. The river played peaceful music to her soul. Dangerous wildlife never posed a problem to her until the encounter with the bear. Most of her life she stayed clear of the harmful ones. The cold raging waters from the frozen winter as it swept down the mountainside shivered her bones. She attempted to toss her memories into the wind. Stories of her mother’s bout with the river, told to her as a child, stuck in her mind.
When the trapper, Morgan, pushed her mother into the river, he had actually saved the life he was trying to kill when he shot her. If it hadn’t been for her father hearing the gunshot and pulling her mother from the cold fingers of the river, she would have frozen to death.
Looking out over the river, she realized it had possessed the Tucker family since the day of her mother’s younger years. It held some kind of magical power, drawing them in, sucking them under and breathing peace and calm into their souls.
A spine-wrenching shudder shot down her. Rising Wolf may think ill of her offering up herself and putting their child at risk. How could she have let her mind forget about protecting a child—born or unborn? With all her strength, she fought to shake the thought before she returned to Rising Wolf.
How could Rising Wolf ever forgive her? Tears slid over Falcon Woman’s swollen brims and slid down her raw burning cheeks. The love of this man, the one she had planned to sacrifice her life for, brought a small amount of calm. To offer up her unborn child was unforgiveable.
Rising Wolf, her dear, sweet husband, lay in bed, broken and shattered from the attack, and she focused on herself. How selfish could she be to think she was the one with all the problems? His pain and healing should come first, not her emotions. The need to be strong for him welled in her chest.
With the horrid crying spells, she didn’t feel capable of convincing him she was all right. She wasn’t sure why she cried at everything around her.
The invasion of her thoughts boiled up nausea. She pivoted and came face-to=face with her grandmother.
“Falcon Woman, how do you feel today?” Woman With Small Voice crinkled her brow.
“Grandmother, why do I cry constantly? My eyes are raw from the tears. I have prayed they will go away, yet when I turn around they are there waiting to wet my cheeks.”
“This curse afflicted me also. My mother told me, it was a woman’s body changing. Your mother, on the other hand, never experienced cry spells.” She reached to pull Falcon Woman to her.
“I may never have another baby if I cry for nine months.” She sniffed and swiped at the liquid on her face.
“We will see.” The tiny laughter seeped through the wrinkled old lips.
“I better get back to Rising Wolf. I must not keep him waiting.” Her grandmother nodded her head and then softly giggled.
“Falcon Woman, Rising Wolf is a smart man. When you have problem, talk to him; he understands more than you think he does. He is not quick to judge.” The little woman hobbled toward the path down the mountain.
Butterflies floated in her belly. The movements were slight, but she was well aware of them. With each kick from the baby, she asked for forgiveness from the unborn child.
She vowed to protect and love it with all her heart. The promise of never offering the life of the babe became her main priority. If only the Great Spirit and God would allow her to prove, she could be a good mother.
Chapter Eight
Rising Wolf sat in the white man’s chair. The pain was of little significance except when he sat on the floor. The gashes across his body had closed, but the scars stood prominent on his chest and back. Tender areas were more of a hindrance than a pain. He winced.
Pride filled his chest as he gazed at Falcon Woman. Her outstretched arms supported nimble fingers to work around her swollen belly. The cradleboard she lined with rabbit furs her father brought from his traps. He picked up his bow and sauntered across the short distance to where she sat. He offered his hand to her.
“I’m going hunting for fresh meat. Would you like to come along? Your body must be stiff with the hours you have remained in one place.”
She hefted her body from the hard ground. The discomfort showed on her face brought deep concern to Rising Wolf. It was too soon for the baby to come into the world, and she was showing all the signs of labor. The drums in his chest intensified. Her body also showed signs of malnourishment. The baby was taking it away.
The government ran their lives. They were told what they could and could not do. He was proud his brother-in-law was in Washington to fight for their people, although, he didn’t think it would do much good. Who would listen to a white man with Cheyenne blood?
Nevertheless, the days of roaming the territory without boundaries was over. The few occasions of a good hunt put him in danger of prosecution if he happened to be caught outside the reservation. The government didn’t care if the meat they provided was tainted. Falcon Woman deserved proper nutrition for her and the baby, and he could see it on her face.
His fears became a reality as he looked upon his wife. The dark circles beneath her eyes, and worry lines deepened around her lips concerned him. She was breaking down right before him, and there wasn’t much he could do, except break the rules of confinement.
“Yes, I shall go with you. I need to move around a bit.” Her eyes lacked the luster they held months ago.
“You should stay with your parents until the baby is born,” he said as they approached the border of the reservation. His heart broke at his own words. Deep inside he knew it was best.
A couple of rabbits lay under a tree with their long ears flat along their backs. Rising Wolf slid an arrow into place and pulled back the string of his bow. With careful aim, he let the arrow fly and quickly replaced it with another. He repeated the process and walked over to the two dead rabbits.
“My home is now in Pine Ridge with you, not in Colorado with my parents. The trip would be harsh. I’m not as strong as I used to be, Rising Wolf.” Her soft features and pleading eyes touched him deep in his soul.
“I will come to you often. Our child…” Rising Wolf skinned and cleaned the rabbits.
“Our child will be born here among his people. The whites did not accept me and my brother when we were growing up, and they will not accept our child. One day Mother and Father were helping in the trading post. Red Eagle and I slipped out the door. Three soldiers came walking up to me, and one pulled my hair. His words were brutal, calling me a white squaw, and he said he would take me anytime he wanted.” She paused. Her arms rested on top of her swollen belly. “Red Eagle became furious and attacked the man. He took a few fists to the face and his ribs before father got to him. I watched Grandfather and Father light into those men with more anger than you could imagine.”
“You are stubborn, Falcon Woman.” With a quick pivot, he sauntered back toward the cabin with the two rabbits for their supper.
There were no footsteps behind him. His heart pounded like war drums. He spun around as Falcon Woman slumped to the ground. The paleness overtook her face, and her arms were damp and clammy. Then he noticed the blood-stained grass.
With fluid movements, he hoisted her up and hurried to the village.
“Get Woman With Small Voice and the shaman,” he ordered before he entered the shaman’s home. He placed Falcon Woman on the mat he had lain on months before. It was sacred enough to save hi
s life; it had to be powerful enough to save the lives of his woman and child.
Woman With Small Voice entered the enclosure. She held her herbs and rattles. “I don’t know what happened to her. We stood talking for a while, and when it was time to return to the cabin, her legs gave out from under her.”
“You must leave. The shaman will do everything he can for both lives.” Woman With Small Voice guided him to the opening.
“I don’t want to leave. Falcon Woman is my wife, my life. I do not abandon my woman in times of trouble.”
“If she worries about you… she will forget about her. She must think about herself now.” Woman With Small Voice put her hand on his back and shoved him to the door.
He jogged to the place where Falcon Woman collapsed. Crossed-legged he sat in front of the pool of blood, his hands rested on his knees, palm up. He closed his eyes.
When did this woman burrow into his skin so deep to send his heart into rushing at the sight of her? He was a warrior, and warriors do not let anything rule their lives but their own mind. Somewhere along the way, Falcon Woman crept into his heart, mind, and soul, to steal his life, and remain in the background. She made him want to be a strong leader and warrior for his people.
Her medicine over him was strong; he prayed his was enough to keep her alive. His questions were not to be asked of the Great One, only to wait for the answer. It was up to the Great Spirit who controlled all things. Was he worthy enough to keep the beautiful woman?
Anger grew inside Rising Wolf toward the white man. They had taken away his right to hunt fresh food to feed his family. The government never provided enough food for the families on the reservation. All the white men wanted was to control the Indians, and teach the Cheyenne their way with total disrespect, as if they were mosquitoes to swat on their white skin. Because of the white man, he would lose his life. Falcon Woman’s blood lay on the ground before him as evidence of their selfishness, greed, and cruelty.
He felt his muscles twitch as his mind roared out in disgust at the way the enemy treated his wife. A woman with the blood of the whites coursing in her veins, and yet, they didn’t care for their own. They sure wouldn’t care for his.
A slight nudge on his thigh stopped the thoughts. With a slow glance, the beautiful doe stood beside him, pushing for a morsel of sweet grass below his thigh. He lifted his leg a few inches, and she ate the tender blades. She raised her head and smelled his face. For an instant, he thought it was Falcon Woman’s spirit with the good-bye message. The doe turned and walked into the trees, looked back at him for a brief second, then disappeared.
He stood to follow, but pivoted on his heels and walked back to the shaman’s.
Nothing but silence greeted him. His life floundered in a rage, his heart in shreds as he whipped through the door. Her eyes settled on him. Woman With Small Voice urged him to go to Falcon Woman.
She reached for him, and he went to her. Arms twined around each other as they pulled the other closer, daring the world to separate them.
“I’m sorry.” Her eyes filled with tears.
“No words, Falcon Woman. No words.” All he wanted was to hold her. Her hair tickled his nose, the aroma of sage settled in the mass of dark brown braids. Unsure of what to say or how to respond to her grief; he let his heart mingle with hers and felt her pain.
“The baby…” Her voice cracked.
“I know. The doe told me.” He pulled her tighter to his chest and let her weep in his arms.
Chapter Nine
Falcon Woman stared out the window. Tears slid down her cheeks as her fingers ran over the empty cradleboard. She turned and walked to Rising Wolf who sat at the table.
“I caused him to die.” She touched his shoulder.
“No.” Rising Wolf's eyes narrowed.
“The Great Spirit is angry with me, Rising Wolf.”
“The government took our baby from us. Do not blame it on the Great Spirit.” A chill ran over her skin.
“I never blamed the Great Spirit for being angry with me. I understand why he is. I blame myself.” She whirled around with the cradleboard in her hand and marched out the door.
Falcon Woman couldn’t hear his footsteps behind her. She sensed his eyes on her back. Tears splattered on her dress as she approached the tiny infant’s body. Rising Wolf stopped.
“I must go.” Falcon Woman walked back to him. It was her job to prepare the babe for burial. The beliefs of her husband were important to her; she knew he couldn’t approach the dead. In a small way, she envied his departure. She patted his arm and resumed her journey to the infant.
Her gaze fell on his black hair and small body. Tears slid free of her lids as she reached for the boy. So delicate, yet so strong. She lifted and placed him in the cradleboard. Her shaky hands sewed the rabbit skin around him, then she tied strips of leather to fasten the child into his death cradle. Wrapping her son in several more blankets made of deer, rabbit, and buffalo skins she finished securing the child in his eternal bed.
“Why take the life of an innocent baby? I have always been here for the taking instead of one of my family members.” She could no longer hold back the wails as she readied her precious tiny cargo for transport with the Great Spirit.
In his blankets, she placed the rattles and various toys Rising Wolf had made him. All of the child’s possessions went into the burial robes. Nothing was to remain as a memento for the grieving mother. Falcon Woman would never forget the child she carried and lost.
She clutched the board close to her chest. Darkness, pain, and anger enclosed her heart as she fought to will her child back to life. This couldn’t be happening. Falcon Woman’s knees grew weak, and she was afraid she would tumble upon his tiny body. Her hands refused to let go at the burial grounds. On her hands, she could feel someone prying her free of the board, but the pools of liquid in her eyes prevented her from seeing who it was.
Emma stood below the wooden structure. Her arms reached above her head as she placed the cradleboard of her first grandchild on it. Falcon Woman took a step forward, and her grandmother’s hands stilled her.
Woman With Small Voice kept her words low and close to Falcon Woman’s ear, “You must let him go, Anovaoo ‘o. The Spirits will guide him to his destination.”
“But I’m his mother, and I should guide him until he is old enough to follow in Rising Wolf’s footsteps.” Her voice cracked with great gulps of air. She shifted her eyes upward to the platform.
The babe's tiny body lay on a scaffold with buckets of water and baskets of food to send him on his journey with the Great Spirit. Crows perched on branches and stumps, waiting to devour what they could from the baskets and lead the soul of the child to the hereafter world.
The black birds held their station as wail after wail pierced the air and echoed through treetops. Falcon Woman fell to her knees, brought the knife from her knee high moccasin and slashed her arms and fingers to let the blood flow. Her chest pulsed stronger as if it would explode. The darkness of sorrow refused to give any relief.
Pain burned in her arms and hands, the stench of rotten corpses settled beneath the scaffolds of the burial ground. She was barely aware of her mother and Woman With Small Voice as they wailed along beside her. Rising Wolf’s female family members gathered behind with their own cries of mourning.
Emma and Woman With Small Voice both had lost children. Falcon Woman sensed from their wails that they were not mourning just her child, but also their own children who had passed from this world to the next.
Her continuous stay at the burial site weakened her body as each day passed. Her heart still yearned for the child. Her wails became hoarse with the constant strains of her screams.
The day came when it was time for her sadness to end. In a way, she wasn’t ready. The first step from the scaffold was the hardest. It seemed cruel to leave the child there without his mother to cry over his needless death.
“Mother, when does it stop hurting? I remember when the othe
r kids died; how did you get through it?” Falcon Woman wiped her tear-stained cheeks.
“You don’t. You learn to live with it and pray you have someone to go to when things get tough. I went to Woman With Small Voice.” Emma patted her daughter on the back.
“Amelia, you were raised in a half-white and half-Cheyenne world. You choose which path you travel. Your child’s spirit went to the world it belongs in. None of us will know which path he took, just that he was chosen by both worlds.” Woman With Small Voice never called Falcon Woman by her English name. Falcon Woman’s question as to why her grandmother did so now lay dormant in her mind as she rolled her words over again.
Her grandmother was right. She did grow up in the village and at her parents’ house near the fort. She remembered the lessons from both worlds, and from the remarks other kids made about her and Jerome at the fort. That would not affect her child. He was dead and wouldn’t have to endure hurtful remarks or be torn between two worlds. She never felt like she had been accepted into either until she married Rising Wolf.
From around the corner of the cabin she spotted Rising Wolf. He stood on the bank of the river. The fresh water raged across rocks with great splashes onto the sparse shrubs. He glanced back at her.
Falcon Woman approached him. “How are you today?”
“I am well.” He continued to stare at the river.
Falcon Woman ducked her head and in a low voice said, “No, you are not well.”
His head jerked to look at her, eyes narrowed, and the gleam diminished. “What do you mean?”
“Grandmother told me our child’s spirit will travel which road it chooses. Do you believe the same? Is our son divided?”
“Our son will be welcome in both worlds in the afterlife. I choose to believe he will be accepted into both.”
A sigh escaped her lungs. “Did I anger…”
“You didn’t anger anything. The white men caused this needless death of our son. Not the Great Spirit or the white man’s God. It was the government, and they have to be stopped.”