White Dusk

by Susan Edwards

  Holding the exalted position of chief had meant everything to Swift Foot: it was the means for him to restore honor to his family. Thus, he’d agreed—having no idea what he’d have to give up.

  Riding back into camp, Swift Foot guided Kastaka to the place where Small Bird sat with her cousins. Dismounting, he untied his kill and pulled it to the ground. Around him, cries of joy went up at the amount of fresh meat he and the others had brought. But for Swift Foot, there was no joy. Only duty. Without meeting Small Bird’s eyes, he left. For him, there was only a broken heart and no hope of love or happiness.

  Smoke-gray skies hid the dawning of the new day. Rough, jagged thunderclouds rose above moisture-laden air propelled by blustery wind. Kneeling at the bank of the stream with the other women and children, Small Bird ran a wet square of cloth over her skin to clean herself for the wedding. The water was far too shallow at this time of year to actually bathe. Warm and murky, some days it barely seemed to move at all.

  A breath of cold air nipped at her. Small Bird’s skin roughened with tiny bumps of raised flesh. Shivering, she glanced up into the dreary sky. The impending storm matched the confusion and anger in her heart. That the weather, which had been hot and dry for weeks, should suddenly turn, worried her. It was as if the elements were in tune with the confusion in her heart.

  Or with her anger. All during the night she’d gone over her conversations with Swift Foot, examined each event leading up to his announcement that he would marry only be cause he had no choice.

  This marriage was meant to be. She’d thought that Swift Foot believed it as she did, that he was the one who had sent his uncle to offer for her. True, she’d known his council had told him to marry, but she’d foolishly thought Swift Foot had chosen her because of their past.

  Swift Foot’s uncle had, in fact, along with a few of the council members who’d accompanied him to present the marriage offer, reminded Small Bird’s father of that very thing. And their shaman, Wind Dancer, had spoken of their future. That was why, though her brother had wanted to refuse, she’d agreed. All her life she’d known that she and Swift Foot were to become as one—and she’d been eager and happy to fulfill her destiny.

  Learning he did not share the same vision was a blow to not only her heart and pride, but to everything she was. It rocked her world and left her feeling like a fish landed by the swift swat of a bear’s paw. Her heart squeezed painfully.

  Rocking back on her heels, Small Bird stared pensively out at the flow of the land. Nothing had changed, yet everything felt different. Scanning the riverbank to her left and right, she focused on a group of women belonging to Swift Foot’s clan. The wind whipped their laughter and the shrieks of their small children to her ears. She smiled.

  She spotted her mother and cousins mingling there, as if they’d been a part of the tribe for years instead of a week. Sighing, Small Bird admitted that she was entirely at a loss. When her mother waved at her, she waved back, wishing she could confide her doubts to the woman. But speaking of her anger wouldn’t change anything, for there was too much riding upon this marriage: the survival and continuation of her tribe, her aunts’, uncles’, and cousins’ and friends’ lives.

  To back out now would destroy their future—not by war, but by the very nature of the world. Their tribe had suffered greatly over the past few years: warriors had left to find mates in other tiyospayes, as was the custom, but few new warriors had joined. Deaths due to illness, old age and a harsh winter had left the clan vulnerable and without enough men to hunt or protect it. Allowing her people’s fears or her own desires to get in the way of this union would be disastrous. There was only this solution.

  Standing, Small Bird put her dress back on and decided to return to camp. There was no way out. This was to be her future. In spite of the anger and disappointment weighing her down, she knew this was truly the only hope for her tribe.

  A small voice in her head whispered, Then Swift Foot’s feelings shouldn’t matter to you.

  But they did.

  The sound of feet running gave her pause. She turned just as Makatah raced up to her.

  “Aren’t you excited?” Makatah linked arms with her.

  The girl looked so eager. It was on the tip of Small Bird’s tongue to lie, to play the part of the happy bride, but right then she needed to confide in someone. “No,” she said. Sliding her arm free, she reached out and grabbed her cousin by the hand and pulled her off the trail.

  Makatah raised her brow at Small Bird’s unexpected action, then smiled wisely. “You are afraid of mating with him,” she guessed, a gleam of humor in her light brown eyes.

  Small Bird rolled her eyes. Several days ago she’d certainly been nervous about becoming a man’s wife, especially a man of great importance like Swift Foot. And yesterday—which already felt like a lifetime ago—she’d been as excited and eager to become a woman as any young bride-to-be. Today, the thought of giving herself to a man who didn’t even want her left her depressed.

  “He doesn’t want this joining,” she blurted, stopping. She couldn’t meet her cousin’s eyes.

  Makatah touched her arm. “What are you talking about? He chose you.”

  Lifting her gaze, Small Bird couldn’t hide her anger and sadness—didn’t want to bear the burden alone. She needed advice, com fort and support. “That’s what I thought—what we all thought—but the truth is, he wants no wife.”

  “But the council came and said he had to have a wife, and he chose you,” her cousin repeated.

  Small Bird stared down at the ground. She kicked a small stone loose from the hard-packed soil. “He did not choose. They chose for him. Yesterday he told me. He had no say in the matter.” She stared with moist eyes past her cousin. “Unlike me, he doesn’t believe that the two of us have come full circle from a shared past to a shared future.” The last was said in a soft whisper as tears clogged her throat.

  Frowning, Makatah took Small Bird’s hands in her own. “Still, you are the one who is to marry him.” She smiled gently. “Look at me, cousin.” When Small Bird complied, she continued, “I was not in love with Matoluta, and on our wedding night I was very afraid.”

  Small Bird felt a wistful tug in her heart at her cousin’s soft smile and the love shining in her eyes. Right then, with all her heart, she wanted to see that same look in Swift Foot’s. But she was very sure that was one wish she’d never have granted. “Matoluta loved you. He offered for you. He wanted to join with you.”

  Makatah’s smile broadened. Her hand lowered to lovingly cup the gentle swell of her own abdomen. “Yes. And now I love him. As you love Swift Foot. He will grow to love you, cousin.”

  Small Bird bit the insides of her cheeks. Did she love him? She’d thought herself in love, but… How could a woman love a man she didn’t know? Learning Swift Foot’s true feelings had made her feel as though she’d been in love with dreams, not reality. “How can you love a man you don’t know?” she asked.

  “But you do know him. We all know him.”

  “No,” Small Bird argued, shaking her head. Fear skittered up and down her arms. “We know of him. We know his courage. His greatness in battle. But none of us know him.” Saying the words, she realized it was true. She least of all knew the man who would become her husband.

  Yes, she’d always been attracted to Swift Foot. At the end of each summer when the Hunkpapa joined together for the Sun Dance and the last of the buffalo hunting, her eyes had eagerly sought him out. But the two of them hadn’t conversed since she’d left childhood behind. Each year his greatness had grown along with his responsibilities.

  Yet, she recalled many summers when he’d greeted her, treating her like a younger sister. He’d even taken time to speak to her or to give her a small gift despite the teasing of his friends. That had been long ago. Somewhere along the way, she’d grown too shy to approach him, and he’d become aloof. A stranger.

  With sudden clarity, Small Bird saw that she’d foolishly convinced hersel
f that she loved him, that he would offer marriage and love her in return. Or at the very least, that he would desire her for his wife.

  Unfortunately, it hadn’t taken but a few words to clear the stars from her eyes.

  I have saved the lives of many. Should I take to wife all I’ve helped?

  Small Bird felt her cheeks burn. No, she wanted to shout. Just the one who set you upon your path, the one who will fight at your side for peace! She shook her head. Want the one who wants you. From deep inside, the words burst from her heart. She wanted Swift Foot to love her. As if sensing Small Bird’s inner turmoil, Makatah remained silent as they walked back to the ring of tipis.

  Glancing up into the roiling clouds gathering over her head, Small Bird stopped. Fingers of cold threaded through her hair, tossing the drying strands around her shoulders.

  “Mahpiya shows his displeasure by withholding good weather,” she noted. As with the eagle, Small Bird knew this was another ill omen of the future. The spirit of the heavens, clouds and sky heard invocations, and if he was pleased, he sent good weather. He was displeased. The question was, with whom: her, or Swift Foot? She shivered when the breeze swept over her arms and face.

  Slipping an arm around Small Bird’s shoulders, Makatah tugged her gently. “Come. Swift Foot will soon see that you are a good wife.”

  When they arrived at Small Bird’s tipi, Shy Mouse ran toward them. “Hurry. We are waiting for you.”

  Small Bird allowed herself to be pulled inside, where her mother, her aunt and her cousins and friends waited to dress her. But even as she smiled and laughed, a storm in her heart raged. As sure as she knew rain would soon pelt the earth, and that the Thunder Beings would make loud noise, she knew she’d fight for this marriage. Not even the bad weather, the eagle or Swift Foot’s displeasure could sway her from her conviction that the journey of her life had led her to this day. What she had to do was prove it to Swift Foot and make him believe.

  And, she mentally added as hands tugged at her hair, make him love her.

  Swift Foot brooded over the same dark horizon that Small Bird had noted. He’d angered the spirits. What had possessed him to confess to Small Bird his feelings? He’d never be able to tell her the reason he didn’t wish to marry. He’d never be able to tell her about his love for Emily.

  Guilt at his own selfish desires slid deeper into his heart. For the first time in his life, he rebelled against his duties. Not outwardly, but rebellion in one’s heart and mind amounted to the same thing. The driving need to lead his people had always kept his path clear. He’d always done what he needed to do thoughtfully, deliberately and with no emotion. Until now. Unfamiliar resentment threatened everything he’d striven to achieve.

  Scenting rain in the air, he knew soon the Thunder Beings would light up the sky, toss their jagged bolts to the ground and fill the air with bellows of rage. Around him, voices rose with excitement as water was fetched from the stream, but they were difficult to hear over the growing assault of the wind. Fires flickered, the flames dancing violently in a struggle to remain alive. Members of both tribes mingled as everyone prepared for the wedding of their chief, a chief who’d given his all for this day. For them.

  There was nothing he could do to stop it.

  Accept your fate.

  Swift Foot grimaced, then turned on his heel and walked away from camp. He kept his head high, his eyes clear of emotion. He had agreed to this marriage, and would go through with it. Was that not acceptance? Was this not enough? He prayed for it to be so, for he feared it was all he had to give.

  His lips twisted in a grimace. Though his mind had long accepted the inevitable, his heart still sought a way out like a rabbit trapped in its hole. His heart and soul longed for Emily and lamented as though grieving for the dead.

  A cold whisper of air crawled across the back of his neck when the wind lifted his hair. Emily was dead to him.

  Swift Foot stumbled. His heart pounded in denial. But it was the truth. He’d never see her again. Quickening his steps, he ran into the storm as if defying the elements. A droplet of rain hit his cheek: a tear falling from the heavens. Inside, his heart shed tears too.

  Blinking against the wind and the downpour from the heavens, Swift Foot smiled with grim humor. It seemed only fitting that his day of marriage begin with the crashing of thunder. After all, violence between the Hunkpapa and Miniconjou had begun with the wedding of his father and mother. His marriage was just one more unhappiness.

  Small Bird’s cousin stared into the flames of the fire while the storm raged outside. Smoke flaps rattled and the wind bounced off the hide wall behind her. The dew cloth, the tipi’s inner lining that kept cold, moist air from condensing inside it, was keeping her warm. A thick layer of old hides and furs placed on the ground around the fire and beneath the beds kept the floor dry.

  Glancing furtively at the closed flap, she turned and lifted up the edge of her bed to reveal the base of the dew cloth. Tied two palm-lengths up the tipi poles, it left a lower edge that her mother had turned under. With the layer of furs on top of it, dust and drafts were kept out.

  Using her fingers, she carefully peeled it back to the poles, searching the space beneath for a sign. She found nothing. No painted pebble. No notched stick. Nothing but sticky mud already forming from the rainstorm. Sighing with disappointment, Moon Fire fixed the lining and her bedding. Where was Many Horns? It had been more than fourteen moons since he’d come to her. The last time she’d seen him, he’d promised to find a way to stop the wedding of Small Bird and Swift Foot.

  She paced. With all the places of concealment in this unfamiliar, hot and hostile land, one warrior should be able to slip past the guards by keeping to ravines and following the river until he got close. Many Horns was more than cunning enough to come to her without being spotted. But Swift Foot moved his people often—seldom did they stay in the same place for more than a week or two.

  Yet Many Horns was clever. He always found them. He always appeared with talks of peace, or slipped unspotted into the camp to be with her.

  As they’d done the last time he’d come to visit, he would leave her a sign that he was near. Then all she had to do was get out of camp and wait for him to find her. Since that first time he’d come in peace, they’d been drawn to each other. She’d found ways to approach him.

  Closing her eyes, Moon Fire remembered his bravado, his courage and the boldness he’d shown in riding into their camp, risking his life. That had pleased her. His fine form doubly pleased her. He was a worthy warrior.

  The second time he’d visited, he’d waited until everyone thought he’d left. He’d stayed nearby for more than a week, but no one had known. It had been the same the last time, except he had come to her before announcing his presence to the rest of the tribe.

  Many Horns was sly. Clever. He’d never failed. And he’d promised to come to her again before the marriage took place. He had to stop it. Otherwise he and Moon Fire would not be able to marry. She tipped her head back.

  “Where are you, Many Horns? Come before it is too late.” Biting her lower lip, she resumed pacing. The fire snapped and the small tipi glowed with warmth despite the storm bursting all around. Frustrated, Moon Fire returned to her bed and threw herself onto its thick furs. With her chin resting on her fisted hands, she thought of the future.

  Many Horns loved her. He wanted to marry her, and she him. But they’d never be allowed to marry. Not with him belonging to the Miniconjou tribe. Not with her tribe joining Swift Foot’s. Once the two tribes merged, their enemies became hers.

  “I knew we should have just run off,” she muttered. Then both tribes would have had to recognize their right to be man and wife. Or they could have just run off alone and joined another tribe. But Many Horns refused to shame her.

  Wait, he’d said. Let me bring peace to our tribes.

  And if you cannot? she’d asked.

  Then you will not have to worry about your cousin’s marriage to Swift Foot
. It will not take place.

  Restless, on edge, Moon Fire paced to the altar at the rear of the tipi, then back to her sleeping pallet, then to her younger sister’s bed of furs, past the door and onto the side of the tipi where her parents slept. When she reached the other side of the altar, she retraced her steps.

  She kicked at the furs of her bed in frustration. She’d tried once to speak of her interest in Many Horns. She’d said that perhaps by her marrying him, the two tribes could know peace. But her father had violently forbidden her to even think upon joining with the enemy. Many Horns was Miniconjou. She was Hunkpapa. Your cousin’s enemy is your enemy, he’d reminded her.

  She repeated his words, her voice low and bitter. It wasn’t fair! Why should she be punished for something that had nothing to do with her or her family? Back and forth she paced. Where was he? He’d promised to come for her if he could not achieve peace between the tribes. Did this mean the Miniconjou planned to attack?

  The thought chilled her, but only for a moment. Many Horns would protect her. He’d ride in and take her with him. He’d never allow anything to happen to her.

  Going to the doorway, she peered out. All seemed quiet. There came no shouts from the warriors guarding the camp. Slapping the hide door closed, she kicked a fur to the side. Anger had risen to quash her disappointment. Let him come. Let the enemy come.

  She felt no guilt for her traitorous wish. No one cared what she wanted. Besides, hadn’t she tried to warn her foolish cousin? As for Swift Foot, it mattered not to her whether he lived or died. What made him and Small Bird more important than herself and Many Horns?

  Her mother burst through the tipi flap, startling Moon Fire as they nearly collided. Dripping wet, Yellow Quail grabbed a length of softened deerskin, which she used to wipe the rain from her face. “Ah, so much to do before the wedding and the feast,” she said.

  Moon Fire returned to her bedding and sat, staring at the fire while her mother stripped down and began dressing in her finest garments.