by Karen Kay
She said as much to Kristina.
Kristina shrugged off Julia’s comments, saying only, “He will soon change. He is only sulking. Sometimes a woman has to be strong and allow the man time to ponder what he is missing.”
But Julia was far from comforted.
And then it happened after they had been in the Minneconjou camp a little over two weeks. Julia had begun to know a few of the other Indian women by sight if not by name. One of them, Kokomikeeis, a very pretty Indian woman, spoke to Julia often, and Julia had soon recognized the woman as the wife to Wahtapah, another of Tahiska’s friends who had accompanied him into Fort Leavenworth seven and one-half years ago.
That same woman approached Julia now, and, smiling at her, Kokomikeeis took Julia’s hand. “Come,” she said. “The women are all gathering into tiyospaye parties, or groups of friends. It is time for us to gather the hu-te or the pomme blanche, as the French say, the root that grows out on the prairie. If we wait much longer, the roots will no longer be good. Come, your sister Kristina and I want you in our party.”
Kokomikeeis hurried with Julia through the camp, toward the side of the circle that faced the valley, explaining that the women were going to dig roots this day. Julia was amazed to see that Kokomikeeis acted as though it was a great social event.
It turned out that it was.
Julia heard the voices of the other women before she came in sight of them; the incessant chatter, the unrestrained laughter and bantering of the women as they told jokes, some lustier than others. Julia smiled at one particularly funny story, and lifted her head to see a gathering of perhaps fifty to sixty women. She heard the sudden cries of joy as the women caught sight of her and soon she found herself surrounded by a party of young women and girls.
They were going root digging, a chore that seemed to Julia as if it should have been laborious and difficult. It didn’t happen to be that way.
The women set off in groups, many of them carrying awnings to set up and use as shade. Once they came out onto the prairie, the women set down their water and any food they had brought with them in the shade and, leaving only a few young girls to watch over their things, the entire group of women scattered out onto the prairie, hunting for roots.
Julia followed Kristina, who had given her a “rootdigger,” a stick made for just such a purpose. Julia bent down, and, as she worked, she began to smile. The women truly made this a party. There were jokes bantered about that would have made even the most seasoned soldier blush, and Julia began to giggle at the ridiculousness of them. Feminine laughter resounded throughout the valley, with an occasional barking to a child who had drifted into danger, or a shriek as someone found a particularly great source of roots.
And before Julia knew it, it was noon, a time to quit the work and rest.
They came back to the awning and seated themselves into several high-spirited groups. They had just finished their meal, when up on a hilltop came a sight Julia thought most peculiar: There upon the hill stood several of the young men and teenage boys from the camp. The women, upon seeing them, instantly flew into furious chatters, each one quickly gathering up their roots and running out en masse onto the prairie.
“Come on.” Kristina rose, pulling Julia up with her as she jostled Julia onward toward the group. “Now is the fun part.”
“The fun part?”
“Yes,” Kristina whispered excitedly. “It is a game. The young men and boys up there are going to come down here and try to steal our roots. They call it counting coup. We call it defending our home. You are allowed to throw as many roots at an attacker as you can and he will try to get to you and steal your roots. If he steals them, he gets to keep them.”
And so it was that Julia found herself stretched out atop a small hill, throwing roots at various teenage and young men. But it wasn’t until the game was almost over that she saw Neeheeowee running toward her.
Immediately, she grabbed any roots she had remaining and threw them, one at a time, at him. Neeheeowee dodged them all, coming closer and closer to her. She burst out with laughter as he came right up to her and, bending over, took all of her roots.
“You can’t have them,” Julia cried out to him and, tripping him, pulled him down to her just as he’d started to leave.
He stumbled over onto her, the weight of his fall causing the both of them to roll over and over, down, down the hill.
He laughed, the sound of his masculine voice a sweet harmony to her ears. They continued to roll, over and over, until they stopped, and Neeheeowee became the clear victor in the fight, coming up on top of her.
Grinning at her, he said, “I count coup on you, which makes you my own. And this”—he suddenly gazed down at her, his look potent—“is your punishment.” And he kissed her. Right there on the prairie, before the multitude of maybe a hundred pairs of eyes, he kissed her.
It should have been a sweet peck. It wasn’t.
He kissed her with all the fervor of one who has been away from his love much too long. His tongue swept into her mouth, his teeth nibbled at her lips and he rained kisses over her face, her eyes, her nose, her ears, her cheeks. It was as though he couldn’t get enough of her.
And Julia, in a gesture of sweet rapture, surrendered to his potent power.
Still, it was some moments before Kristina came upon them and giggling, she said, “Come on you two, before you become the gossip of every lodge in the camp circle.”
But when they didn’t move, when they made no attempt to pull away from one another, Kristina simply ushered the others in their party away, leaving the lovers to reacquaint themselves with one another as best they could out there upon the prairie.
Julia and Neeheeowee sat in the honor place within Tahiska and Kristina’s lodge. It was an area closer to the entrance which most Indians kept to show recognition to visitors and guests, it being easier from that vantage point either to enter or to leave the tepee. As is the way of things, it was the general custom that when in the lodge, the women sat with women and the men with men, but tonight the couples had gravitated toward one another and no one seemed to mind, least of all Julia.
Tahiska had passed around a pipe to Neeheeowee and the two men were smoking comfortably when there came a scratch at the entryway, and a male voice asking to come inside. Tahiska answered the call and bid the visitor to enter. Wahtapah pushed back the entrance flap and both he and his wife, Kokomikeeis, filed into the tepee.
Julia was supposed to move to accommodate them, but she didn’t know this. It caused Neeheeowee to have to put his arm around her, pulling her around the circle to allow room for the newcomers. Kokomikeeis smiled, while Julia’s body responded to Neeheeowee’s touch as though she were starving.
He didn’t remove his arm from around her shoulders, and Julia breathed in deeply in an attempt to calm her heart.
She glanced up at Neeheeowee, finding his gaze riveted on her. She stared, he looked back. Little knowing that she did it, her face came closer to his, until, with a groan, he moved closer, his lips brushing down over hers.
The moment came alive with magic. Julia’s stomach quivered, her head spun, and her world tilted out of control for a moment. All she knew was the feel of his lips over hers, the warmth of the night, the fragrant scent of skin, his clothing. And she moved toward him, wanting more.
“There are buffalo on the ford of the Teton River, I have heard,” Wahtapah began, breaking the spell.
“Yes.” It was Tahiska who spoke next. “I have heard this, too. There are several from our camp that think to go there to hunt.”
Neeheeowee brought his head up, away from her, while he breathed in deeply, as though to regain control. And Julia did notice that his breechcloth had settled in a way that made her stomach do flip-flops.
“Do you go down to the Teton?” Wahtapah asked Tahiska.
Tahiska shrugged. “I do not think so. There is plenty of meat here, and it is only the beginning of summer. There will be time to hunt more buffal
o. I am content for the moment to stay close to home and to my wife.” He gazed over at Kristina and smiled, Kristina returning the gesture, catching his hand and squeezing it.
“Some say the Pawnee are there in our hunting grounds,” Wahtapah related. “I have heard that because the white man is crowding them in their own country, the game in their old hunting grounds have fled. It appears that our brothers, the animals, fear these white men. Some say that the Pawnee are dispersing into our country, taking our game.”
Tahiska merely shrugged, while Neeheeowee sat up, all at once interested. After a while the Cheyenne warrior asked into the silence, “Is anyone going down there to protect Lakota territory against these invaders?”
“There are a few parties,” Wahtapah responded. “Though I would not choose to follow any of the leaders of these parties. Few have good war records. Let us hope that any fight they have with the Pawnee will bring them honor.”
Tahiska nodded while Neeheeowee stiffened, sitting forward and pulling away from Julia, if not physically, then in spirit.
“Ho, are you in there?” A male voice called out from the entrance and Tahiska responded with, “We are here, please come in and be our guest.”
An older man entered, holding up his hand in greeting to everyone as he came fully into the lodge, standing up and coming around to take a seat at the honor place, Kokomikeeis and Wahtapah scooting down to allow him room. And while in most Indian circles, the females might have tended to huddle together at this point, the males, too, none here made the move to do so. And for this, Julia was glad.
“We are pleased to see you,” Tahiska said. “This is Capa Tanka, Big Beaver.” He made the introductions to everyone present. “I have asked Capa Tanka to visit us, to bring us entertainment. He is the camp’s memory, its historian. He remembers everything, even the small details of camp life. And he is a great storyteller of all these minor facts. It is a pleasure for you to visit us.”
Capa Tanka nodded, taking the pipe from Wahtapah, and smoking it before anyone else did or said anything. Then, at the urging of Tahiska, Capa Tanka began in due time to talk of many things in the everyday occurrences of camp life. Julia’s attention fell away from him and she began to think of other things, mostly her own problems, stifling a yawn at the same time.
“…there was a murder in the Brule camp to the south of us several months ago when it was time to make meat,” Julia heard Capa Tanka say.
“This is a very bad thing,” Tahiska spoke up and everyone agreed. It was a serious thing when a Lakota took the life of another Lakota. It didn’t happen often, and news of such a thing spread quickly. “What did they do to the murderer?” Tahiska went on to ask.
“That was an interesting thing,” Capa Tanka said after a long hesitation. “It is something I have not heard of in many, many years.”
All were quiet as the camp historian paused once more.
“What did they do?” Kokomikeeis asked, breaking the silence.
The old man looked up, hesitated, then began, “They invoked the kinship appeal as the way of handling the murderer.”
Julia heard several gasps from around the lodge and she almost asked what the “kinship appeal” was until she realized that Capa Tanka had every intention of telling them.
“I have not heard of such a thing happening in many, many years,” Tahiska spoke up. “There is probably nothing I know of to show higher respect to one’s dead relative than that, though the price is high, for each person related to the deceased must battle with his own hatred and pride first and overcome both before the kinship appeal will work.”
“I agree,” Wahtapah spoke up from the side. “There is nothing more noble, if one can manage it.”
The women waited for the historian to continue, but Capa Tanka held back, as though awaiting something else…or perhaps someone else. He glanced over toward Neeheeowee once, though Neeheeowee remained studiously silent, the younger man’s gaze centered downward.
At length, the camp historian continued, saying, “It is well to think on such things, for there is nothing better than the kinship appeal to put out the fire of hatred in oneself. It is also said that it releases the anger of those who were slain as well. But it is not easy to achieve.”
Julia still waited expectantly for someone to tell her what this “kinship appeal” was.
But it never came. The old man began to speak of other things and then, with one last glance at Neeheeowee, Capa Tanka started to rise, but Julia held him back with her carefully chosen words, saying, “I know I should not speak out like this, but I am new to the Lakota camp circle and I do not know what the kinship appeal is. Would you be so kind as to explain it to me?”
The old man looked at Julia, his keen eyes appraising her before he said, “You have blended in so well with us that I forgot for a moment that you are new to us. I would be happy to tell you of the kinship appeal. But first I must tell you that it is a true story. It comes to us from our ancestors many hundreds of years ago. No one knows who first started it, and it is not used often, for it is so difficult to attain.”
All sat quietly while the old man stretched out his legs. “Let me tell you what has happened in the Brule tribe to explain this appeal. It happened only two seasons of the moon ago down there upon the Rosebud River. There was a man, a Lakota man, Shonka, The Dog, who killed another from his own tribe, a man by the name of Mato Waste, Good Bear. This is always a bad thing when it happens within a band, for one murder leads to another and soon there is one family fighting another of close kin, and sometimes it never stops.
“Now the murderer in this case, Shonka, escaped and was roaming over the hills, avoiding the victim’s relatives, for he knew these people would kill him if they could find him. It so happened that there was a man amongst these particular Brule relatives who was known to be a wise and very just old man. His name was Ogle Sa, Red Shirt.
“Now Ogle Sa listened to his relatives. He heard their arguments, their fighting, and when it became Ogle Sa’s turn to talk, here is what he said: ‘My brothers, this is a very bad thing that has happened to us. Our relative, whom we all loved, lies dead while his murderer roams free. Therefore, would it not seem that we should find this murderer, Shonka at once? Is it not our duty to kill this man for the evil he has done?’
“Well, you can well imagine the response of the relatives. It was what they were all wanting to do and they all agreed that they should go out at once and seek revenge upon this murderer. But old Ogle Sa was not done speaking yet, and here is what he said next: ‘My brothers, I, too, want justice. I, too, lost my kindred. But hear me. There is another way to resolve this. It is a harder path to take, but it is a better path. Now, it is true that we have lost a brother. But a murder is not always best met with more murder, especially if it means killing one from our own band. Hear me, my kindred. Would it not be better to handle this matter with no further killing? There is a way. Go and bring from your lodges your very finest. Bring here things that you value above all else. Bring them here for we shall give all these things to Shonka, the killer, as a way of showing him that we are not deceitful in what we propose to do. ‘My brothers,’ old Ogle Sa said, ‘we will take this murderer into our own Brule kindred. He will take the place of our dead relative. And he will serve us and be to us what our relative was. But you must, everyone of you, search within your hearts to see if you can do this, and if you are able, then, bring me here, the finest things you possess that we may show Shonka our single-minded purpose.’
“Well, you can imagine that every single member of that kindred had to struggle within himself to conquer the hate and anger he felt. For no Lakota man would agree to this without feeling it truly within his heart.
“And that’s when the wise old Ogle Sa pointed out that hatred and revenge are but flighty things at best, but that to live with Shonka in benevolence day in and day out required the most supreme qualities of a human being that could ever be put forth. And wasn’t that what all we La
kota men strive to do?
“Well, all of the kinsmen looked into their hearts and saw that what this wise old man said was a good thing, for it is easy to kill, it is easy to hate and seek revenge. It is not always the easy way to love despite all. And perhaps such is a true test of whether one is a great human being or not.”
“And did they all do it?” It was Julia who spoke up. “Did they all decide to live this way? Even Shonka?”
“Yes,” Capa Tanka said. “It is said that they found the murderer in the hills, for it is always easy to track a man, and they brought him back to the village. You can probably guess how Shonka felt to be placed among the family of the slain man, for he knew all wanted to kill him. But Shonka did not hesitate to step back into the camp. He seemed to accept his fate with a great calm.
“He was taken into the lodge of the elders, there to await his fate. And that was when wise old Ogle Sa came up to him. Here is what he said: ‘My friend, my fellow Lakota of our Brule band, I am going to ask you to look into your heart before I tell you what we do. Look around you. What do you see? Over there is the brother of the slain man. Over there, his cousin. In the corner over yonder is his father and another brother yet. To me, the man who is dead, my cousin. Now, my friend, do you see all these gifts here? All of us have looked into our hearts. All of us loved our brother well. We bring these gifts to you now to show you our earnest intentions. These gifts here, they are for you. From this day forward we ask of you that you take the place of our dead relative. I ask you to look into your heart and tell us if you are able to truly take the place of our beloved. For if you are, from this day forward you will be a part of our family.’”
Julia gasped.
“Ah,” Capa Tanka continued, “now Shonka began to shake, so deep was his emotion, and when each member of this kindred began to give to him the gifts they had brought and to speak to him kindly, the murderer began to cry, the tears falling from his eyes to the ground for he could not control them. And it is said that from that time forward Shonka became the best kinsman of all, because, you see, he had to prove himself worthy of that kindred’s trust, and so he strove at all times to be the best of kin.