When he finished doing her hair, Broken Feather placed the brush back in her hand, letting his fingers linger against her hand. Their eyes locked, it seemed like for an eternity, before he finally pulled away and went back to hitching up the horse to the wagon, to make sure everything was going to work correctly.
Vanessa continued to watch him, feeling a tingle in her fingers still, even though he was not touching her any longer. She let out a long breath. How was she going to live through this journey with him, and keep her emotions intact, she wondered? She shook her shoulders, trying to cast off forbidden thoughts, and started going through what supplies they had salvaged.
Broken Feather came up alongside of her, pulling the tarp off the wagon and rolling up the blankets to make room to deposit everything back in the wagon. He lifted up her trunks, and the tent, along with the tools, pushing them in place over the floorboards of the wagon. Then he started helping her go through the food stuff, to see if there was anything they could still use.
“Looks like the flour and sugar got wet,” he grumbled as they started opening cloth sacks to inspect the food. “This crate of food in tins can be used, though. There are canned beans, corn, peas, peaches, jams, fish, beef, but a lot of the paper labels are hard to read now.”
“The bread and crackers have been ruined, but I think the cheese is salvageable,” Vanessa added.
“I can hunt for meat along the way. We didn’t lose the rifle or ammunition. I think we have enough here to last us the week it will take to finish our journey if you are willing to risk it,” Broken Feather said.
“As long as we don’t run into anymore gully-washers,” Vanessa laughed, “I am game.”
“Good. Then let’s finish packing up the wagon and get on our way, and hope the rest of the way is smooth sailing,” Broken Feather grinned.
Vanessa laughed. “I hope that doesn’t mean more water to contend with,” she teased.
He gave her a sideways glance and chuckled. “As long as it is a river where we can bathe, I won’t complain,” he told her. “According to the map your father gave me, I think we have to cross a couple of rivers before we get there,” he added.
“Let’s just hope they are shallow,” she mumbled.
Broken Feather finished tying the tarp down and helped Vanessa up in the wagon again. The horse seemed a little skittish after its ordeal, but once they got back out on the road again, which was already starting to turn into dust as the wheels cracked through the puzzle-like dirt chips that blanketed the road, once it had dried up, the horse seemed to settle down, pulling the wagon steadily along.
“It looks like the shaft is going to hold as long as we don’t end up stressing it out, so we should probably take it slow,” Broken Feather suggested.
“I guess you know what you are doing,” Vanessa murmured, glancing up at him as he focused his eyes ahead.
She had seen a shielded look in his eyes, when he had helped her up in the wagon, and now he seemed a little distant, as though his thoughts were elsewhere. She could feel a subtle change between them, as they rode silently, not finding anything to talk about. Vanessa knew he was regretting that kiss, and the way he had held her to him all night. It all must have had to do with the ordeal, where either of them could have lost their lives, she decided. Now that things were back to normal again, she was once again his charge that he was responsible for, and nothing more. She wondered why her heart started to sink at the thought. She didn’t think her life could ever be normal again.
They stopped along the way, eating cold beans out of the can, passing it back and forth between the two of them as they shared the makeshift meal. Then Broken Feather whipped up the horse again, and they started out as the same kind of landscape stretched out before them for another whole day. The sun was just as hot as it had been before the rain, and the rain hadn’t seemed to cool anything off much. Vanessa was making use of her parasol again, to keep the sun out of her eyes, now that her bonnet was gone. She lifted her head to watch an eagle circle in the sky overhead, and noticed Broken Feather was watching it too.
“It is such a majestic bird,” she mumbled.
“Yes, the plains Indians believe it is a sacred bird. We don’t make war bonnets like other Indians do and have no use for the eagle feathers that they seem to treasure.” Broken Feather told her. “The name Seminole comes from a Spanish word meaning wild, but we are probably more civilized than other Indian tribes,” he explained. “I will tell you the legend of how my people believe the world began.”
Broken Feather cleared his throat and began to speak again. “When the Creator, the Grandfather of all things, created the earth, there were many things he wanted to put there, birds, animals, reptiles, insects, and many different living things. The Creator did have certain favorite animals. He liked the Panther, Coo-wah-chobee, meaning crawls on four legs, close to the ground. The Panther would sit beside the Creator and He would pet the Panther, over and over, across its long, soft, furry back.
“The Creator made sure that certain animals and plants possessed unique healing powers. When the Creator touches certain things longer than normal, His powers automatically go into what He touches. He told Panther, ‘When it's complete, I would like for you to be the first to walk on the earth. You are majestic and beautiful. You have patience and strength. There is something special about you. You are the perfect one to walk the earth first.’
“Creator went to work making all sorts of animals and birds. Animals on all fours, animals with hooves, animals with paws, birds with claws, insects, reptiles… there was nothing the Creator left out. When the earth was ready, Creator put all the animals in a large shell. He set it along the backbone of the earth … the real high mountains. ‘When the timing is right,’ He told the animals, ‘the shell will open and you will all crawl out. Someone or something will crack the shell and you must all take your respective places on the face the earth.’ The Creator then sealed up the shell and left, hoping the Panther would be first to come out.
“Time went along, and nothing happened. Alongside the shell stood a great tree. As time passed, the tree grew so large that its roots started encircling the shell. Eventually, a root cracked the shell. The Panther was patient, which the Creator liked. But, at this particular time, Panther was too patient. The Wind started circling around the crack in the shell, round the outside and round the inside, so vigorously that the crack was made larger.
“The Wind, however, remembered that the Creator wished for the Panther to be on earth first. ‘We will fulfill the Creator's wishes,’ said the Wind, reaching down to help the Panther take its place on earth.
“The Wind was everywhere. The Wind was the air we breathe. After Wind helped the Panther out first, the Panther thanked Wind for the honor. Next, to crawl out was the Bird. The Bird had picked and picked around the hole, and when the time was right, stepped outside the shell. Bird took flight immediately. After that, other animals emerged in different sequences. Bear, Deer, Snake, Frog, Otter. There were thousands of others… so many that no one besides the Creator could even begin to count them all. All went out to seek their proper places on earth.
“Meanwhile, as Bird was flying around looking for a place to live on earth, the Creator was watching. He watched each animal and did not intervene, but left the animals on their own. The Creator often allows things to happen along their own sequences. Sometimes a thing must happen on its own merits.”
At this statement, Broken Feather stopped and eyed Vanessa knowingly. Maybe there was hope for things to change for her, he inwardly thought, caused by her own merits. Then he shrugged and continued.
“When the Creator saw that all was done, He decided to name the animals and put them into Clans. For being such a good companion, the Creator rewarded the Panther with special qualities: ‘Your Clan will have the knowledge for making laws and for making the medicine which heals,’ Creator told Panther. ‘You, the Panther, will be in possession of all knowledge of different things. Th
e Panther will have the power to heal different ailments and to enhance mental powers.’
“Creator believed the actions of the Wind were very honorable and noble, so He told the Wind: ‘You will serve all living things so they may breathe. Without the wind or air, all will die.’
“ ‘The Bird, for being able to take flight, will be ruler of the earth,’ said the Creator: ‘The Bird will make sure that all things are put in their proper places on earth.’
“So this is how the beginning was made. Some call it the Creation. Though there were many, many animals put on this earth by the Creator, all came to know their proper places on earth.
“Today, among the Seminoles and other Indian people, there are ceremonies on the occasion of the greening of the earth. At these ceremonies, you can see the Panther, with brother Wind, mixing the medicines for all people to use. The people followed the path of the Creator and gave their clans names of animals.
“If you enter the festival grounds and don't know your place, you seek out the head of the Bird Clan, usually a man ranked high within the Clan, and ask where to make your camp. He will ask you ‘What is your Clan?’ If you say ‘Panther,’ he will give you a direction and instruct you to seek out the head of the Panther Clan and he will tell you exactly where to sleep.
“Stories such as the Creation and many other legends have important meanings to us. Sometimes, however, interpreting them may confuse us. Seminole, Miccosukees, Creeks, Cherokees, Choctaws, and many other tribes tell tales of Creation. These stories may change from Clan to Clan because they all live in different locations on the earth and that has much to do with the way the stories are told. Yet we all believe that a Creator made us, just like the white man believes God made them.
“When my people were in Oklahoma, the Baptist missionaries came and taught them the white man’s religion. In Mexico, the Spanish taught the Indians their Catholic religion. Though Indians have a similar spiritual belief as each other, I have found there are many things about our belief that match those from Christian beliefs…but like the story of creation, depending on who is teaching you, each has their own version.”
Broken Feather gave Vanessa a long look, wondering if she had even been interested in the legend. “All the animals that the Creator made looked different from each other,” he pointed out. “The Panther was black, while the white wolf was not. Yet each animal had their place. They did not look upon one animal and say it was less of an animal than they were because it looked different from them. They understood that together, they made up nature and each fulfilled a purpose. They willingly exchanged their lives for one another in order for earth to survive, but they never took more than they needed, so nothing would be over used and disappear.
“White people believe that animals are below them, and are not as smart as a human, while Indians learn from watching animals and nature, to make them smarter, knowing they have something to teach them about survival. The animals do not take slaves, or try to take over the territory of another animal. They learn to work together in order to survive. A wolf may kill another animal in order to survive, but if they are not hungry, they do not kill something for the thrill of it. They know without the combination of the whole, many of them would suffer. It is too bad people are not like that.”
Vanessa widened her eyes, thinking this Black Indian was wiser than she had given him credit for. Only, regardless of what she believed, or he believed, she knew neither of them could change the opinion of society, and those, who made the laws of the land concerning the black’s and Indian’s position in society, would never let anyone defy them without facing the consequences. Even the Seminole Indians had the power to refuse to allow the Black Seminole a place in their own society, just as the white society shunned the blacks and the Indians in the same way. She was beginning to believe that life was more complicated than she wished it was.
They rode in silence once more and after about an hour, the first river they were to cross came into view. The noise of the water flowing was a welcoming sound, and Vanessa started cheering, at the thought of being able to wash all the dust from her body.
“We should camp here for the night,” Broken Feather suggested. “We can wash our bodies, and I can wash the dried mud out of my buckskin clothes.”
“What will you ever wear, if you wash your clothes?” Vanessa gasped.
“I can wear a breechcloth until my clothes dry,” he told her. “If you wish to bathe first, I will set up camp while you do it. Then after we eat I can take my own bath and wash my clothes.”
He helped Vanessa down from the wagon, and she grabbed a bar of soap out of her carpet bag, and found something to dry with to take with her to the river.
Broken Feather watched her head for the river, and then busied himself unhitching the horse and hobbling it. He pulled the tent from the wagon and set it up, throwing the blankets inside of it, saving some out for him to use to sleep under the wagon. Then he got ready to build a fire. Once the fire was going, he brought out some food to eat, and started heating up some beans and canned beef in a cast iron skillet for when Vanessa came back from bathing.
Just about when the food was warm enough to eat, he could see her walking towards him. Her hair was all damp and hanging around her shoulders. She appeared refreshed, wearing a pink dress, looking like a new spring flower pushing up from the soil. For the hundredth time he was captivated by the blue of her eyes, and the soft pout of her mouth. He tried not to look at her mouth too long, remembering how her lips had felt under his own lips when he had returned her kiss.
“Something smells good,” she smiled as she reached the camp.
Broken Feather gave her his crooked smile and dished up a tin plate for her. She took it and sat down on a nearby log. Then he dished up his own plate, and sat down beside her.
“Did you enjoy your bath?” he asked, liking the fresh smell of her hair.
“It was very refreshing. I would have stayed longer, but I knew you were fixing something to eat and didn’t know if I was hungrier than I was eager to remain in the water. I chose food instead.”
Broken Feather laughed. “Eat all you want. You can have peaches for desert. I opened a can.”
“I don’t know how you manage to use that contraption to open the cans. I never could figure it out myself. I would probably end up starving to death if I was left to my own devices with nothing but can food to eat,” she chuckled.
“I will show you how to use the can opener, if you wish. It is rather simple, once you get the knack of it. You just punch the point into the lid, and then work it back and forth against the edge of the can. I could also use my knife, but as long as I have the proper tool, it isn’t really necessary.”
They finished eating and then Broken Feather shared the can of peaches with Vanessa, loving to watch the way the corners of her mouth turned up, at the first taste of the sweet fruit.
“I’ll wash the dishes while you go bathe,” Vanessa offered, and Broken Feather headed to the river.
“Take my bar of soap,” Vanessa called, jumping up and grabbing the soap and then tripping up to him, and holding out her hand with the soap in it.
Broken Feather, took the soap from her hand. “Thank you,” he murmured, feeling a tremor going through his body as their fingers touched.
Vanessa stood and watched him walking away to the river, liking the way his body moved so powerful and in control. He always seemed so sure of himself and was exceptionally capable, being able to fix the wagon, and climb the bluff, while making sure she made it to safety, and carrying her while he ran. She admired him more and more, as she began to trust and rely on him. She thought of how she had despised the thought of having to travel with him in the beginning, but now, it seemed her opinion of him was slowly changing. She realized she was going to miss him, once she ended up on that ranch and the wife of a stranger.
Vanessa had just finished washing the dishes at the bank of the river, when Broken Feather came strolling up, and
started draping his wet clothes over a tree branch nearby. She found herself drawing in her breath when she saw him. He was clad only in a breech cloth, and his muscles rippled as he walked, glistening from still having water on his skin. His long, dark, hair dripped against his shoulders, causing rivulets of water to slide over those strong muscles. Other than the soldiers, who had been swimming in the pool at the fort, Vanessa had never seen a man so scantily dressed before. The soldiers had been wearing undershirts, as they swam, along with cotton trousers that came to their knees. This was something much different, leaving very little to the imagination, as her eyes moved from one bulging muscle to the next and then rested on his flat stomach.
He walked over to her, bending down and scooping up the dishes in one hand, his damp hair brushing against her cheek as he did so. “I’ll help you with those,” he said as he took the dishes from her.
Vanessa followed timidly beside him, afraid to look at him so close up, while yearning to do so. She wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing and accidently caught her toe in the root of a tree, causing her to trip. Instinctively, she grabbed out for his arm to steady herself, and he put his arm around her waist, to help her across the rough sod. It made her all the more aware of him, and the fact he was practically naked, walking so close to her. His hand on her waist made her feel secure, though, like it belonged there, and she found herself lightly leaning her head against his shoulder as they walked.
When they reached the wagon, Broken Feather, put the dishes down inside the wagon, but did not let go of her waist. He liked the fact that she was leaning on him for strength and support. It made him feel needed and trusted by her.
“Your hair smells good,” he murmured, turning his face and resting his cheek against her head.
“You don’t know how good it feels to be clean again,” she smiled.
“I think I do,” he laughed. “Indians usually bathe every day. We believe it keeps the body pure.”
Broken Feather Page 6