by Karen Kay
Why did the Indians let her live? What purpose did her life now serve? Wouldn’t it have been better if they had just…
Enough! She swore at herself, her thoughts.
She was alive…alive, which meant she had a chance, if only she could run away. If only…
She bowed her head. What opportunity did she have? When not fetching water, she was constantly chained to the noose. And no one seemed to spare her a single thought, not even her male captor.
Julia raised her head, looking up toward the heavens, through the tops of the cottonwoods. She breathed in deeply. What was she to do?
Unbidden, an image of Neeheeowee came again to mind. Should she throw herself on his mercy? Should she beg him to set her free?
Never!
She remembered him, his backside today, his irritating, graceful gait as he had walked away from her—only minutes ago. Suddenly her situation seemed too much to bear, and Julia, unable to understand the why of it, any of it, silently denounced everything involved with it: her parents, her husband, white man and Indian alike.
She came slowly to her feet there on the path, and balancing the water bags on her hips, she continued her hike toward the stream, resigning herself to the fact that she no longer commanded her own life. And it was no small revelation that convinced Julia she could champion no one any longer—white or red. Betrayed by both cultures, her disenchantment toward life in general grew, spreading malaise within her as though she were on fire, encompassing all within its path: the good along with the bad. She closed her eyes, knowing that she could no longer consider herself a part of either world anymore, especially a culture which committed, even laughed at, the destruction of another human being, no matter what its civilized or savage aspect.
Without consciously willing it, she suddenly felt doomed, more so than at any other time—doomed to be neither white nor red, doomed to belong nowhere.
And it was this, perhaps more than anything else, which caused Julia to look within herself, searching for a spark of inner strength. And oddly, she found there, within herself, a shred of courage, a semblance of her spirit that would not allow her to quit. She found there an ability to cloak herself in insouciance.
And though another might not appreciate it, Julia knew she could at least pretend, if only for herself, that none of this mattered: not her captivity, not her heartache, not even Neeheeowee’s disregard for her. She could assume, if only for a little while, a nonchalance. And if she might truly feel the apathy of her plight, she determined that no one would know it.
“I will not quit!” she murmured to herself, and squaring back her shoulders, Julia lifted her head.
Rags or no, grime or no, she would allow no one, especially not Neeheeowee, or any other Indian, to realize she had lost. Lost faith in herself, faith in her fellow man, in Neeheeowee, faith in the gods that be. And though outwardly she might assume the appearance of being unaffected by her captivity, deep within her soul, Julia knew she would never be the same.
Her world, she herself, had forever changed.
“What do you know of the white captive?”
Neeheeowee’s question was met with silence. But at length Mahoohe, Red Fox, grinned, eyeing his brother-in-law with sly appreciation.
“Eaaa! She is pretty, despite her rags, is she not?”
Neeheeowee snorted. “Do you think I care whether a white slave is pretty or not?”
His brother-in-law merely raised an eyebrow. “And why would you not?”
Neeheeowee grunted, his only response.
The two men sat side by side within the lodge of Mahoohe, a buffalo robe laid out comfortably beneath them. Beside them, the men’s war shields and bows hung from the inner tepee lining, within their reach, while their quivers full of arrows were strung from the same, ready for use. The bottom flaps of the tepee were rolled up to permit fresh air into the lodge while the usual cooking stones and the buffalo-paunch which served as cooking pot were relegated to the outside, the cooking to be done in the open on this hot, spring day. The scent of sage on the floor, of sweet grass burning in the air, perfumed the atmosphere, already scented with the familiar tepee smells of leather, rawhide, and smoke. Sounds of camp life, of children playing outside, filtered into the lodge, forming a sort of muted background to their conversation. Now and again, the aroma of buffalo and wild turnip stew wafted into the lodge, enticing the taste buds of those within, churning an empty stomach.
Neeheeowee glanced to the spot where Mahoohe’s wife had chosen to store the family’s possessions. The parfleches, which acted as a sort of chest of drawers, now held Neeheeowee’s things, too. They were neatly set off to the side, these brightly beaded buffalo bags, whose designs depicted the special dream sequences belonging specifically to Mahoohe and his family.
The tepee flap suddenly opened, catching Neeheeowee’s attention, and he looked up to see Voesee, Happy Woman, Mahoohe’s sister, leading her small son into the lodge; both were followed by Aamehee, Always A Woman, Mahoohe’s wife.
It was an unusual sight, to see Mahoohe and his sister, Voesee, together since custom dictated that after a certain maturity of age, Cheyenne siblings of different sexes could not be alone with one another, nor could they speak to each other—at least not directly. And though this might seem strange to an outsider, to the Cheyenne, this conferred the greatest respect upon one’s brother or toward one’s sister.
But Voesee was not known for keeping tradition, and Neeheeowee feared she had something to say to him, something which must be important since she dared to flaunt Cheyenne custom. And though the two women kept their gazes down to show respect as they entered the tepee, cloaked about the both of them was a sense of expectancy.
All at once Voesee looked up and smiled. “Tell these two, big warriors,” Voesee spoke to Aamehee, as both women and the boy fully entered the tepee, Voesee and Aamehee moving off to the left to cross behind the men, while the boy sat down at once. “Tell my two brothers,” Voesee continued as the two women made their way around the tepee to the women’s quarters, sitting down across from the males, “that we heard them speaking of the white captive and that I believe the white woman should be bought. She would make a good wife, I think.”
Mahoohe choked on the buffalo jerky he was eating, while Neeheeowee grunted. Mahoohe sent his wife an imploring look. “My wife,” he said, being careful not to speak to his sister directly, “tell my sister that she does her brother great dishonor to speak of such things in front of him.”
Aamehee looked down not bothering to say a word, though she brought a hand up to cover her mouth, as though she hid a grin. Voesee, however, smiled openly.
“Will you explain to your husband,” Voesee quietly addressed Aamehee again, “that he need not worry overmuch. Tell him that I did not mean he should marry the white slave.”
“My sister is surely not thinking of her own household!”
Voesee grinned while Aamehee laughed softly.
“Hova’ahane, no, no my husband,” Aamehee said aloud. “Your sister was not thinking of bringing the white captive into her own home…something else…someone…”
“…from our northern relatives,” Voesee spoke so softly, she could barely be heard. “Someone like…”
Neeheeowee heard. Neeheeowee groaned, but he said nothing…yet…
And Voesee, still addressing her brother’s wife, said, “…like… Our northern brother-in-law has been too long without wife. It is time he came out of mourning and found himself—”
“I believe your sister would marry me to a white slave,” Neeheeowee interrupted to say to Mahoohe.
And though Mahoohe chuckled, Voesee raised her head, looking down her nose at the two men, though she addressed only Aamehee. “Would you tell these two Cheyenne warriors that this is not something I say to make them laugh? I believe the white woman has great spirit.”
Neeheeowee paused, giving Voesee an amused glance. At length he spoke, but still only to Mahoohe. “I believe the w
hite woman has enchanted your sister, my friend.”
And to Voesee’s choked cry, Neeheeowee continued, saying, “It would appear your sister would like to see me united with someone who has no Cheyenne heritage. Do you think she forgets that the white woman is without family or kindred; without any moral or social standing in our community? I ask you, my brother, do you think your sister forgets that a Cheyenne husband would desire to know if his future wife is honorable?” Then, without even a smile, he leaned over toward Mahoohe, adding, “You had better watch your backside, brother, or next she will have you taking all the village widows as second, third, and fourth wives.”
And while Mahoohe laughed, Neeheeowee silently congratulated himself. Voesee had a habit of ignoring tradition and poking into other people’s affairs when she shouldn’t, and he hoped that in this teasing way, his words would keep his sister-in-law from prying too carefully into concerns where she was not welcome, those matters being his own private life.
But when Neeheeowee glanced up to catch Voesee’s gaze, he groaned. His sister-in-law was not to be put aside so easily.
Voesee had drawn herself up, her back straight, her head thrown back. She smiled, causing Neeheeowee to bring his brows together. “I must assume,” Voesee said after a while, “that my brother-in-law from the north cannot see beyond this white woman’s rags. I am greatly concerned about his eyesight.” Here she leaned over toward Aamehee. “I will ask my son to tell him that I will solicit the village medicine woman to make strong brew to help him see.”
Mahoohe grinned, while Neeheeowee scowled, sending a quick glance up toward the heavens. And looking over to Voesee, Neeheeowee found himself wishing that he could ignore the woman. However, he couldn’t. For while custom clearly tabooed communication between brother and sister, the opposite remained true for brothers- and sisters-in-law. These relatives were expected to tease and to poke fun at one another directly, and the more people involved in the joke, so much the better.
He had just closed his eyes and sighed when a thought hit him. Ah, yes, here was a plan, here was a way to keep Voesee from prying too deeply into his personal affairs. And if it also had the effect of making Voesee think next time before she spoke, so much the better.
Neeheeowee didn’t smile. He wouldn’t. But that didn’t keep him from leering at Voesee before he said, “Sister-in-law, I have heard your words, and I have thought on them. I believe there is some wisdom in what you say and after thinking on it, I would be more than happy to purchase the white slave that you mention, but I will tell you now that I would not make this woman my wife. I believe that my sister-in-law forgets that I have other things to attend to that would not allow a wife into my life. I would ask my sister-in-law if she does not remember the Pawnee who…” Neeheeowee broke off. One did not speak of the dead, even if that dead be a beloved sister or wife. And so without so much as a shrug, Neeheeowee continued, “Sister-in-law, I will buy this slave. But I would buy her on condition, that condition being that my honorable sister-in-law should take the white woman as sister to her—”
“She is too old!” Voesee burst out, causing Neeheeowee to sit back, relaxing against the willow backrest as he watched Voesee struggle to subdue her urge to speak out. After a short while Voesee once again addressed Neeheeowee, saying, “My brother-in-law from our northern cousins has quick tongue, I think. But surely he knows that this white woman is too old for me to take her on as sister. It would be too hard to adopt her into our own customs. No, as I said. Not good sister…good wife.”
Neeheeowee smirked and, leaning over toward Mahoohe, said, “Eaaa! Do your ears hear what mine do? Does my esteemed sister-in-law say that she will not have the slave, yet she would expect me to give up my life, to marry this white woman, and to tame this woman to our ways as well? Be careful, my brother, your sister has lost all sense, I think.” Both men snickered.
“Tell my wise and great brother-in-law,” Voesee broke into the two men’s amusement and spoke to her young son as though Neeheeowee weren’t present, “tell him that I would desire to have the slave as sister if she were fifteen winters younger. But tell him also that it cannot happen now. The white woman is too pretty, and I would worry that my husband might find her so, also. No, not good sister would the white woman make…good wife…”
Neeheeowee made a deep sound in the back of his throat while Aamehee quietly spoke up from the sidelines, saying, “You must understand, my brother,” she spoke to Neeheeowee. “Your sister-in-law, Voesee, is wise to protect herself. After all, what woman would sanction the competition of another, beautiful woman within her own household? Even if attractive herself, a first wife would find the presence of such a one as this white woman disturbing.”
Neeheeowee nodded toward Aamehee, not wishing to tease the shy, withdrawn wife of his brother-in-law. “You speak wisely, wife of Mahoohe,” he said, “though I would still query my sister-in-law, Voesee, to ask if she has thought well on this. I wonder if she sees that here is a unique opportunity for her—to have again an older sister; someone to share the work, someone to help with chores, with the children. Besides, there would be no competition between Voesee and the white woman unless her husband were to solicit the white woman as second wife and then—”
“It is that possibility that would torment me!” Voesee looked away, toward Aamehee, then back to Neeheeowee. At length, she addressed her son once again, who sat at Neeheeowee’s side. “Would you explain to my northern brother-in-law,” she said, “that my husband may yet take another wife, but I would not want it to be someone who is so…so…”
“Pretty?”
It was her son who spoke, and Voesee smiled, at last agreeing, “Yes, pretty.”
Neeheeowee didn’t respond. Instead, glancing up and speaking as though to the air, he said, “It is too bad. I was hoping that either my brother-in-law, Mahoohe, or his sister, Voesee, would take the white captive into their home. Tell them, little nephew.” Neeheeoee leaned forward, away from his backrest to try to gather the attention of the young boy. “Tell your elders here for me,” Neeheeowee said, “that I am bound to purchase this slave, no matter the consequences of that purchase.”
The small child of no more than ten years of age opened his mouth to speak, but instead of uttering a word, he gaped at his uncle. In truth, the whole atmosphere inside the tepee echoed the same response. Silence ensued.
At length, Mahoohe said into the quiet, “Tell us about this, my brother. Tell us about how a man who is too involved with revenge to even look at another woman, is now bound to purchase a pretty, white slave.”
Neeheeowee said nothing, merely raising his shoulders, and Mahoohe continued, saying, “Come, come now. I am sure I am not alone in wondering, my brother-in-law, how a white slave could mean so much to you. All my life I have known you, and for these past seven winters I have beheld you as the man who married my younger sister; a man who even now would avenge my sister’s death; a man without emotion, intent only upon revenge. And I cannot understand how a white slave girl could cause the sentiment I witness in you at this moment. For there is emotion in you today; emotion that I have not seen in you for… My brother, I see that this girl is pretty, but…”
“I know her.”
It was a simple statement, yet it conveyed everything Neeheeowee wished to say on the matter; it also had Mahoohe straining up in silence for several moments, listening for more explanation while he gazed over to his brother-in-law, though, at length, Mahoohe merely asked, “You know her?”
“Haahe, yes.” Neeheeowee nodded. “I met her some years ago when I accompanied one of my Lakota brothers on a mission of revenge which carried us into the soldier town the white men call Fort Leavenworth. She is the friend of my Lakota brother’s wife, who is also a white woman. It was there that I came to know the woman they call Julia. It was there that I came to call her friend.”
Voesee gasped. “You call a woman who is not a part of your kindred friend?”
Neeheeowee no
dded.
“The white world allows this?”
Again, Neeheeowee nodded, saying, “Haahe, yes, it is so. They have many strange customs. But do you see now that I am duty-bound to purchase this white slave? I have pledged friendship to her, meaning that I must protect her. I cannot allow her to suffer the consequences of captivity. And I must see that she is safely settled, for I could not allow her to travel with me. It would put her honor at stake, plus it would distract me from my purpose. Would you not…?”
“Naaaa!” Voesee came up onto her knees as she looked directly at Neeheeowee. “My brother-in-law, I have come to admire the white woman, but please, as I said before, it would be too hard for her to become sister. She would be feisty and she might attract the attention of my husband. No, I do not wish it.” Voesee paused, then, after a moment, she sat back down and leaning over toward Aamehee, she said, “I have seen this white woman at the stream in the morning. I have seen her courage, have witnessed her stamina. I believe she has a good heart, I believe she is brave.” This said, she glanced back toward Neeheeowee. “I can see that you have a problem, my brother-in-law, for if you do not make this woman your wife, as I think you should, and I cannot make a sister of the white woman, what will you do with her?”
“I do not know,” Neeheeowee answered, then, turning toward his brother-in-law, he stated, “I had thought to make her a present to you, Mahoohe.”
Mahoohe choked on the puff of smoke he had just inhaled. Amidst coughing and sputtering, he said, “As you have heard, my brother, one such as she would upset my household.” Here he looked to his wife, who in her own turn, nodded.
Voesee shook her head, also in agreement. “Yes, she is too…pretty and already a woman. One such as she could not be brought into our households. Still…” Here Voesee smirked, a twinkle in her eye before she continued, “But wait, my brother-in-law, there is another in camp who would be only too happy to take the white slave into his household as wife. Se’eskema, Wart, is having trouble finding a woman. He would be easy to convince to take her.” Voesee smiled. “I would only ask you, my northern in-law, not to judge the poor man on his looks. Wart would be kind to the woman.”