Captive Travelers

by Candace Smith

  “Tell the bitch I’ll give her my moccasins if I lose.” Wyonet pushed them off and handed them to Wacasa to hold. It had taken her over a month to tan the hide and stitch the soft boots, but she needed the excuse to take them off anyway. She ran barefoot with Ahiga.

  Wacasa chanced a look at Ahiga again. He was smiling and talking to Tocho and Nashoba, with his arms crossed over his chest. He pointed at Wyonet, and the three men walked over to them. Ahiga said, “What have you bet for, Wyonet?”

  “The knife.”

  Ahiga looked at the enemy brave. “Then that leaves only my horse. I will take it back when Wyonet wins.”

  “A raven,” the man spat. “The best you could do for a woman is a seductress.”

  “Wyonet has proved herself not to be a seducer, and she wears the feather to remind the people that not all we are led to believe can be trusted.” Ahiga stared directly at the woman who had caused him so many years of anguish and humiliation. She winced at his glare, and gripped her warrior’s hand.

  “And when she loses,” the man huffed. His woman was the fastest out of both the southern tribes. Unlike the Wehali, she was not kept from training in winter snows… and she was not a traveler posing as an Indian.

  “Wyonet will not lose, but I will put my new horse on the bet.”

  The brave looked at Wyonet, studying her lean lines and unusual blue eyes. She was younger than his woman. He knew the white woman could not win, but he did not need another horse. “I will take your raven when she loses. Then I will have taken two women from you,” he laughed.

  “Wyonet is Wehali. She is mine, and I will not bet her… and I certainly do not want your slut back. Are you afraid to lose the horse to me? Perhaps he has already thrown you and run into the prairie,” Ahiga challenged.

  The brave winced. The horse had indeed thrown him, many times. The stallion was a spirited animal, and if he had not made such a production out of stealing the magnificent beast, he would have given up on him years ago. Perhaps Ahiga’s new horse was easier to ride. “Horses,” he shrugged in agreement.

  Wacasa held out her hand and glanced at the knife. The brave handed it to her, eyeing her closely to make sure she was not going to steal it. Wacasa backed into Nashoba, and he felt her soft trembling under the hands he placed on her shoulders.

  A crowd had begun to gather after rumors spread about the wager. There were many uneasy, surprised glances at the Wehali’s Fighter who had refused to join them at the rendezvous since the woman had used him. She stood next to her brave with arrogant confidence, glaring at Wyonet. She looked down at her bare feet, and smiled. “We will run the long course, to the outside of the camps.” It was pitted with stones, and the white woman would lose quickly.

  Wyonet smiled, her blue eyes flashing in a way that Wacasa knew meant she was pissed off… really pissed off. She winked at Wacasa, and turned towards her rival. She gave up on both Wehali dialect and hand signals, and she said, “Well, if you’re sure you want to give me that advantage.” Wyonet began walking towards the starting mark, and she called over her shoulder, “I’m so much younger than you that I’m sure this will be a quick contest.”

  The other woman understood what she said, and she was seething. Wacasa covered her mouth to hide her smile, although she noticed Ahiga was doing nothing to stifle his laughter. Nashoba leaned down and whispered, “Do you think Wyonet can really win?” He did not want to consider Ahiga’s anger if she lost.

  The two women were at the starting line, with spectators lined around the circumference of the dirt track. Wyonet got into position, and the loosening of her shift made one of the raven feathers flutter across her breast. She dug her toes into the dirt and turned to her opponent. In a clear, loud voice, she said, “You have seduced and disrespected a Wehali warrior. You are the raven, and for this you will lose.”

  The other woman gasped, and the spear swung down announcing the beginning of the race. The Indian thought her moccasins would give her an advantage, as the stupid white woman would bruise her feet on the stones. She did not know that the bottoms of Wyonet’s feet had toughened from her runs with Ahiga. Her toes could grip into the soft dirt for traction. Kayla kept an easy pace, staying either even or a little behind her opponent until they reached halfway around the track. Ahiga watched her smile soften and her face lose expression. “That’s right, run from the ugliness, my beautiful Wyonet.”

  Wyonet thought how unfair it had been that she had been humiliated by the Indian’s rituals for merely being accused of the same charge this woman had committed. She thought of how her betrayal had haunted Ahiga, and how the two of them were healing together. Wyonet envisioned his retribution, when he reclaimed his possessions and left his enemies weakened before their tribe. Before she knew it, she was hearing cheers. She had flown past the finish line, with the other woman three full teepee lengths behind her.

  The Indian was livid, panting and gulping air. “She cheated,” she spat.

  “What did she say?” Wyonet hissed.

  “She said you cheated on the race,” Wacasa answered, laughing and squeezing Nashoba’s arm. Wyonet’s fists clenched, but she did not reply. She took the knife from Wacasa, and handed it to her warrior.

  Ahiga looked at the other brave. He was glaring at the tired woman who had lost his pillaged treasures. “You should have cut her throat when you had the chance.” He grinned, slipping the knife into his belt. Tocho walked up with the stolen stallion, and Ahiga added, “Now you do not have a horse to ride away from her on.” The woman shrieked, and Ahiga laughed again. “But you should have no trouble outrunning that turtle.”

  Wacasa had been translating for her, and Wyonet suggested, “Even though you are a miserable excuse for a warrior, you might be able to strangle her with your bare hands.” The Indian clenched his fists, and his face turned red with rage. Wyonet smiled at Wacasa. “No need to translate… I think he caught my meaning.”

  Ahiga took the reins to his prize stallion. The horse was thin, and Ahiga winced at the stripes on his hide from a recent whipping. The horse whinnied and nuzzled against his shoulder. “It is good to win you back.”

  As a prize for winning the race, Ahiga gave Wyonet his other horse. She was the only woman in the tribe with a horse of her own, and no one said a word about her wearing a feather. Indians from all tribes congratulated Ahiga, and they made references to the spirit guides’ wisdom for making him wander a lonely trail of angry despair until they sent Wyonet to him.

  Tocho, Nashoba, and Wacasa joined the happy couple for dinner in a small group next to the central fire pit. Just as they finished, the shaman and Chief Paytah approached them. The shaman had Wyonet and Ahiga stand and hold hands. “Your woman’s devotion was the sign, Ahiga.” Chief Paytah looked at Ahiga and nodded, placing his hand over theirs, and then the two older men walked away.

  Wyonet struggled with her Indian words. “What did he say?”

  Wacasa answered, and Wyonet looked at her in confusion. In English, Wacasa blurted, “You’re married, Wyonet. I’m so happy for you and Ahiga.”

  Wyonet’s strong legs buckled and she slumped to the ground in shock. “I’m married?” It had to be true, because Ahiga’s mother came running up to them a minute later, and sank down beside her, pulling her close in a hug. Knowing her new daughter’s struggle with their language… because her son kept her hidden in the cave… she whispered in broken white-speak, “Thank you, Wyonet. I was so fearful my son was to walk his path alone in anger. Instead, he has won the raven.”

  When the tribe moved north to their village, Ahiga built a teepee next to his father and mother’s tent. His younger sisters taught Wyonet how to gather supplies, and her Wehali improved rapidly. She rarely drifted back into white-speak, even when she was with Wacasa.

  The strange thing was Waka. She seemed content, and the children loved her and Ganali. Not only that, when the women walked through the village, everyone seemed to respect them. Waka and Ganali did few chores. Each family
took turns providing them with fuel and food. They were also not made members of the tribe, and both talked and were spoken to in English.

  During a few meals with Leotie and the chief, Wacasa noticed the shaman had a strained anticipation on his face. On one occasion, the shaman, the chief, Nashoba, and Tocho spent the entire day inside the shaman’s tent. Two nights later, while their group was cloistered around the stone fire pit, the spirit women sat beside Leotie. The shaman raised his hands over the flame. After speaking a few phrases, the smoke wafting into the air turned blue, with orange sparks floating to the sky.

  The shaman said, “Yepa and Namid, you must prepare. Nashoba, you must gather your warriors and travel tonight. The travelers must not go to the farmers. It will be a hard ride, but it must be done. Bring extra horses for them to ride back on.”

  “Leotie, bring Soquila and Waka to me after the morning milking.” The shaman was anxious, as signs of the casting fell into place.

  The shaman let his gaze travel the circle around the village where families were finishing their evening meal or climbing into their teepees for the night. He knew that this news and the signs would not please them, and he sighed wearily, wishing he could interpret the rest of the bones. Even with the chief, Nashoba, and Tocho suggesting things, the message was unclear. He would ask Namid and Yepa to read their tealeaves in the morning.

  Wacasa spoke with Leotie while Nashoba and Tocho made their way to the other warriors they would be choosing to go on the trip. “Is this why you asked me if I would go back? Is there a way to step into the field when the transfer occurs?”

  Leotie stirred the dirt with her finger. “I do not know, Wacasa. It is possible, but no one has ever tried to cross from this world to the other.” Leotie took her hands and looked into her eyes. “It was always meant for for you to stay here. The spirits demanded your great sacrifice in exchange for these travelers. They are Indians.”

  Wacasa looked across the village at the dying embers of fire pits. Except for low murmurs of mothers getting children settled, and Nashoba and Tocho’s shadows making their way to the warriors they would be taking on the trip, the village was quiet. “I could not imagine being anyplace else.”

  * * * * *

  Five spirit women sat in council. Hehewuti had not come to tribal meetings since the death of her son, and she ignored the shaman’s decree that she must attend. It was no secret that she was suggesting her power and connection to the spirits was greater than his.

  The shaman turned to Tommy Windsong. “You are sure you wish to do this?”

  He nodded. “You have seen my casting.”

  The chief stood, and Tommy rose in front of him. He touched Tommy’s forehead, and said, “You are Cheveyo, for you are a true spirit warrior. The spirits know of your sacrifice.”

  The chief left, and the shaman, apprentices and spirit women, discussed the upcoming ritual.

  “Are you certain they will join you?” the shaman asked.

  “We will feed Hehewuti’s ego, that she has been honored. The thought of Tommy joining them should do the rest,” one of the spirit women replied.

  She had been right. When Hehewuti pressed her for details of the shaman’s meeting, it laid the trap. “He has seen the spirits have declared you worthy. Even Tommy has been tasked with helping you with this ritual.”

  “And Bobby? What of my other grandson?” It had been months, and Hehewuti had seen no promising changes in his wayward disposition since sending three spirits.

  “Bobby is to be there as well. According to the shaman’s casting, the spirits have a great offering planned for all three of you. It has been four generations since the signs showed a ritual on the mound. The spirits want to join with you. They did not even request the shaman of the tribe to attend the ritual,” the woman said.

  Hehewuti curled her hand around the spirit world medallion. “The shaman is not as devout as I am.” The woman glared into the telephone, while Hehewuti continued to boast. “It is I who has sent white people to strengthen the Indians. He never leaves the reservation.”

  “He is trying to convince Tommy that he needs to join with you. The casting was very specific that the spirits might not present their gifts without him there.”

  “My grandson will see my wisdom and he will return to me.” Hehewuti decided she would see if Bobby could get his brother to agree.

  Tommy pretended to be slightly reluctant, but he did not push his luck. He could see the evidence of drugs on Bobby’s face, so he knew that he was not looking forward to joining in the ritual. Tommy did not want to give him the excuse to back out. “Tell her that you have convinced me. I will meet you in the morning.”

  Bobby’s grandmother gave him fifty bucks for getting his brother to agree. She told him he had better be back in time for breakfast. Bobby spent all night partying with his friends, and he told them he would be gone for a few days. They all joked about Bobby getting sucked into another one of his grandmother’s crazy Indian rituals; even though, just as Bobby had said, the police never questioned them about ransacking that apartment and the three girls had never returned.

  Tommy was dressed in his ritual Indian clothing, and he ignored the stares from the neighbors when he knocked on his grandmother’s door. Hehewuti pasted on a smile. The arrogance. Look at him standing in our tribe clothes. He is trying to humiliate Bobby. At least he did not desert me to increase his standing with the tribe.

  Tommy was surprised by the anger in her eyes. The smile did not go further than her lips, and he could see that what the spirit women had told him was true. Bobby was passed out on the sofa, with his arm crossed over his eyes. “We need to leave, right after breakfast.” They only had a few days to make it to the mound, and his grandmother would be walking slowly.

  “I know when we need to be there,” she snapped. “You forget yourself, Tommy. You are assisting me with the ritual.”

  “Yes, grandmother,” Tommy calmly replied.

  Getting Bobby moving had been difficult, and now he was sleeping in the back seat while Tommy drove towards the mountain. He talked them into walking to the first marker before they set up camp. Bobby complained, and his grandmother seemed to fill with a sense of superior pride the closer they got to the mound.

  At last, they were on the hill, surrounded by the stone sign half buried in the grass. Tommy pitched their tent and built a fire, while Bobby snuck off to smoke some weed and Hehewuti began chanting. They finished dinner and Bobby crawled into the tent. Hehewuti and Tommy continued chanting until the fire spewed a blue puff of smoke.

  Hehewuti waited for words of enlightenment or the promise from the spirits. Tommy said cagily, “Perhaps they will send their message to you in a dream.”

  “You’re right. Oh, of course you are. The spirits would not present themselves in front of you,” his grandmother scoffed. She crept into the tent, anxious for their message. She fell asleep with her hand curled around the medallion.

  Tommy stirred the ashes, watching the embers turn deep blue. He spoke in his native tongue. “I am Cheveyo, spirit warrior. I offer you three travelers, to bring good fortune to my tribe.” The embers lit for a moment, and began to slowly die down. Tommy looked across the mountains. It would be his last vision of this spirit world.

  Chapter XI

  The shaman asked Leotie to wait while he spoke with Waka and Soquila. It was agreed that Tala and Awi should also know what was about to happen.

  Ahiga had gone with the warriors, and Wacasa wandered the field with Wyonet, gathering fuel. “They’re riding fast. They should be back in a few days.”

  “Do you know who the travelers are?” Wyonet asked.

  “Leotie said they were Indians.” Wacasa looked at her friend. “She has not told me, but I think it might be Hehewuti, because we were the sacrifice to bring them here.”

  “Why would she volunteer to come here? I know damn well Bobby won’t be with her. He likes his toys too much.”

  “Somehow, I don’t thi
nk they have a choice. The spirits have decided for them, so maybe they’ll be tricked like we were.” Wacasa found herself doubting the shaman and the Wehali beliefs less and less as events unfolded.

  Wyonet was silent. She continued to pick up chips and place them in her basket. “You know, I’m not really even mad at them any more.” She stood and looked across the prairie, at the other women, and the village beyond. “I fit here, Wacasa. I never felt like I did back there. I never would have found this if they hadn’t tricked us.”

  “Leotie asked me if I would go back. I told her my life is with Nashoba. It’s hard for me to remember what it was like. I remember it was stressful, and nothing seemed permanent until I got here.”

  “If it is Hehewuti and Bobby, do you think they’ll try to discredit me again?” Wyonet asked.

  Wacasa looked at her friend. She was dressed in her Indian shift and moccasins, and tanned almost as dark as Ahiga from running with him. The raven feather was a little frayed from whipping in the wind. “You need a new one,” Wacasa pointed. “They could not discredit you, Wyonet. You have earned your place with the tribe.”

  Wyonet looked towards the east. “I miss him so much it hurts. It’s crazy how much I miss him.”

  Wacasa followed her gaze, imagining she could see Nashoba and the warriors walking their horses through the wheat. “I’m sure they’re missing us too, Wyonet.”

  Nashoba was thinking about Wacasa when he reached the path at the edge of the wheat field. They would camp for the night, and enter the wheat field at dawn. They did not want to be too close to the spirit crossing until it was safe.

  Nashoba had told the warriors they were not to speak with the travelers. They were to help them onto the horses and lead them back to the village. He and Tocho had taken Ahiga aside and explained that two of the travelers were responsible for sending Wyonet. They quelled his quickly rising anger by reminding him that he never would have met her if this had not happened. They convinced him that the warrior would be punished by seeing how happy Wyonet was with Ahiga.