White Wind

by Susan Edwards

  Seeing Eyes studied the white girl her son wanted. “No, child,” she patiently explained. “You not wear white man’s clothes here. You dress as one of us.”

  Seeing Eyes held one hand up to forestall the argument Sarah was ready to voice.

  “Easier for you if you dress as one of us. You be more easily accepted,” Seeing Eyes finished.

  “But…” Sarah swallowed her protest, unable to fault the older woman’s logic. She gave in. Suddenly it was important that she get approval from these people.

  As soon as the flap shut, Sarah reached for the warm water. Thankful for the privacy, she quickly bathed and wrapped herself in one of the blankets.

  She paced around the tipi, careful not to step in the altar behind the fire pit. Golden Eagle had taken only enough time yesterday to instruct her that normally women in his tribe moved to the left side of the tipi, while the men went to the right. He explained that the square area on the floor directly behind the fire was the altar, and pointed out his warrior’s equipment that no woman must ever touch.

  Sarah wondered what would be expected of her in her new role as she awaited the return of Seeing Eyes. A sigh escaped. She hoped she would not cause shame to Golden Eagle. She owed him that much at least.

  Steps outside interrupted her contemplations. The flap moved to admit Seeing Eyes with bundles of clothing slung over her arm. Behind her, Bright Blossom followed, shyly glancing at the white girl.

  Laying the clothes aside, Seeing Eyes turned and informed Sarah, “We help you dress.” She reached for the tightly held blanket.

  The thought of strangers looking at her, dressing her, touching her, was too much. Sarah stared in disbelief and shook her head, taking a step back. “I can dress myself.”

  Putting hands to hips, Golden Eagle’s mother spoke sternly, as one might to an unreasonable silly child. “Come now, child. We women. Do we not look the same? Only skin color different. White girl not be shy. We wish to help. Our clothes strange to you.”

  With a deep sigh of resignation, Sarah recognized that determined look, the voice that would brook no argument. It was very similar to her son’s. Dropping her arms to her side, Sarah allowed the fur to fall from her body.

  Picking up the soft doeskin dress, Seeing Eyes slipped it over Sarah’s head and guided it over the girl’s pale flesh.

  The dress, with its V-neck and sleeveless arms, was a perfect fit. Seeing Eyes stood back and gave the white girl a chance to get used to the garment.

  Looking down at herself, Sarah studied her new costume. Her love of beautiful pieces of work destroyed her last vestiges of doubt about wearing Indian clothing.

  Exquisite bead work, quills and feathers followed the line of the neck. A thin leather thong was cinched at the waist, showing off Sarah’s small waist. The bottom of the midcalf-length dress was decorated with rows of beads above the neatly cut fringe.

  Sarah did, however, feel uncomfortable showing so much of her legs and arms. Never had she worn anything so…revealing. Surprisingly, though, she found it was very comfortable and lightweight. Not nearly as binding as the many layers of clothing more familiar to her. She twisted around trying to see all angles. Running her hands down the front of the dress, she marveled at its incredible softness.

  Sarah saw pride on Seeing Eyes’s face and remembered seeing this woman sewing the night before.

  “It’s beautiful. Thank you,” Sarah exclaimed as she fingered the soft fringe. Cocking her head to the side, curious, Sarah asked the older woman, “You made this?”

  Smiling, pleased with Sarah’s response, Seeing Eyes replied, “Yes, child. I make. It please this old woman you like.”

  “But you made it so quickly,” Sarah said, voicing her confusion. “You were sewing it when I arrived…” Her voice trailed off.

  Bending to retrieve the matching moccasins, Seeing Eyes simply stated, “I saw your coming in my dreams. Please sit.”

  Not understanding the strange reply, Sarah did as instructed. Wincing slightly, she lifted a foot and allowed Bright Blossom to fasten the moccasins around her ankles.

  Bright Blossom had seen the flash of pain cross the white girl’s face. Seeking to comfort, she said quietly, “Not worry, pain go soon. Is always this way for women the first time our warriors claim us.” She spoke in a matter-of-fact tone.

  Sarah’s face and neck flamed with shame and humiliation. Rising indignantly to her feet, she exclaimed, “How did know about… Did he tell you what…?” Sarah stammered, her hands flying to press against hot cheeks, horrified that such a private matter could be public knowledge.

  Watching Bright Blossom’s smile fade, Sarah felt guilt creep over her. She was taking out her anger on someone who did not deserve it.

  “I’m sorry, Bright Blossom. I should not have spoken to you as I did.”

  Stepping forward, Seeing Eyes intervened. “You have much to learn, child. My son not say anything. It was expected. When man and woman share tipi they follow nature’s path.”

  Hearing Sarah’s groan of disbelief, Seeing Eyes continued, holding out her hands, palms up. “In our world, the mating act between man and woman is natural. Not one to be ashamed. What happened last night between you and my son is natural, was meant to be.”

  “But there was no marriage. It is not right to…” Sarah shook her head, unable to express herself.

  “Do white men always marry women they take to their sleeping mats?” Seeing Eyes asked the innocent girl.

  Shaking her head no, Sarah looked at the two women and confessed, “This is so different. My people, we do not talk about such matters. They are private. Sometimes, even husband and wife do not talk as freely as this.”

  At Sarah’s confession, Bright Blossom blurted out, “But how do they know what each feels? How do you know what needs your mate has?” Bright Blossom asked, struggling to voice her shock. “I not mean to anger you. Please, not be mad at Bright Blossom.”

  Taking pity on the Indian girl, Sarah smiled. “It’s all right. I can see I have a lot to learn. I will try to be a good learner.” And with that, she stood and let the two women braid her long hair into two plaits and tie them with beaded thongs.

  Following Seeing Eyes and Bright Blossom out into the drizzling rain to face her first day in the Indian village, Sarah needed to know one last thing. Hesitantly, she placed her arm upon Seeing Eyes’s shoulder and stopped. “Will your people think badly of me because of…last night?”

  Stopping to examine the anxious white girl, Seeing Eyes smiled. “No, child. Here, you be judged on how you work and fit to our way of life. As white captive, you have no choice but to share my son’s sleeping mat.”

  Sarah nodded and followed the two women. She vowed she would learn all she could. After all, she was half Indian. Perhaps this new knowledge would be useful, if she ever found her other family.

  Riding behind her father and older brother, Wild-Flower observed the group of Indian warriors coming toward them. Even from this distance, she recognized Golden Eagle’s great horse.

  She glanced at her brother Running Wolf, and received a stern look of warning as he dropped back to ride beside her. Wild-Flower quickly glanced away. She had hoped for more time before having to face Golden Eagle.

  Moving closer to his headstrong sister, Running Wolf leaned over and spoke for her ears only. “My sister had best behave as a gentle quiet doe.” Hard eyes of earth color met defiant eyes of the same shade as brother and sister glared at each other.

  Tossing her head, Wild-Flower sent her brother a contemptuous look. “Do not worry, my brother,” she said mockingly, with a low humorless laugh. “I shall not do anything to bring shame to my family or tribe.” Wild-Flower dropped back.

  She knew he’d watch her every step. Despite their differences, they were close, and only he was aware how she rebelled against the match between her and Golden Eagle.

  Her brother thought her crazy, stupid and selfish. How often had he told her so? She knew she was the envy
of all the maidens in her tribe. For the son of a great chief to accept her, daughter of a rival chief, as his mate was a great honor for her and her family. She should be happy, proud. But she wasn’t. She wanted to choose her own mate.

  Golden Eagle spotted the group on their way to meet them. “There, up ahead.” He pointed, urging his horse toward the group.

  Red Fox watched Golden Eagle greet the chief and his family and those warriors traveling with them.

  He could not help but feel envy when he saw Wild-Flower. Such beauty was rare. She truly resembled a beautiful flower growing free and strong in the prairies. The irresistible urge to pick the blooming meadow flowers matched his need to take and possess the young girl.

  He knew of Golden Eagle’s feelings on the matter, but couldn’t understand his friend. Golden Eagle was regarded as a very lucky warrior. With anyone else, in any other circumstances, he would have challenged for the beauty before him. But he could not. Not with a man who was his best friend. Shaking his head clear of such unclean thoughts, he took his place as the group finished their journey.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Tonight, my friends, the tribe of White Cloud will feast and dance in honor of the upcoming marriage of my daughter Wild-Flower to Golden Eagle as was decided long ago. All can see the many fine ponies and gifts he has brought to our tipi. The Great Spirit has smiled upon our humble village this day.”

  A roar of approval went up. There was much to do this day. It would be a day of preparing for the feast. All other chores would be set aside as warriors left with whoops and yells to find fresh meat.

  Women rushed to check their finest garments and those of their families. Each would try to outdo the other. Even the ponies would be decorated with their finest blankets.

  Unmarried girls rushed to find a secluded spot for bathing. This would be a night of trying to woo unattached males. More than one had their eye on Red Fox. Chanting and dancing accompanied the drums filling the air. Golden Eagle and Wild-Flower strolled around the village.

  It was permissible and encouraged that the two should spend time with each other. Golden Eagle looked around and saw a few others talking in the shadows, some with blankets thrown over their heads for privacy so none could hear their conversations.

  Golden Eagle slowed his pace and tried to show proper interest in his wife-to-be. He knew others watched closely. Much was at stake if the two tribes did not merge. Glancing sideways, he sighed. As usual, Wild-Flower walked with her eyes to the earth beneath their feet, giving him a view of her shiny dark head.

  He wondered if he would ever get her to look him in the eye. Many warriors expected their mates to be meek and submissive. His hands clenched. Not him. He was a proud warrior and needed a wife to stand proudly at his side when the time came for him to rule.

  Searching for a suitable topic, he tried once again to initiate a conversation between them. “I trust your brothers and sister are well?”

  He received a silent nod.

  “And your father and mother?” he probed.

  Slim shoulders shrugged. “The family of Wild-Flower is well,” she faintly replied.

  Golden Eagle threw his head back in frustration. They passed another couple and heard the whispering and giggling from under the blanket over their heads. The warrior’s gaily decorated pony shielded them.

  Stopping in the shadow of a tipi, he looked down at the blanket slung over his arm. He would try one last time to get his soon-to-be bride to talk with him before returning her to the circle where the maidens sat. “Soon Wild-Flower will be wife to Golden Eagle. Does Wild-Flower desire to talk beneath the blanket with her husband-tobe?”

  Wild-Flower’s head snapped up, eyes blazing with horror and resentment, before quickly lowering. She shook her head side to side. “No, husband-to-be. This maiden has no words to speak of this night,” she choked out.

  Golden Eagle stared in amazement. Had her eyes seemed to blaze with resentment? Telling himself it was just a trick of the moonlight, he sighed. Her eyes were once again lowered, her shoulders slumped. Relief passed over him as he had no desire to share the intimacy of the blanket with her.

  Silence fell as they mutually headed back to join the festivities, both engrossed in their own thoughts. Neither knew just how closely matched their thoughts were.

  Back at Golden Eagle’s village, Sarah spent one afternoon in front of the tipi pounding pine nuts into a paste. Across from her, Bright Blossom also pounded nuts. Sarah looked at the hard ground and groaned as she saw how much had flown from her bowl and noticed that Bright Blossom had no waste.

  Vowing to be more careful, she bent her head to her task. Without warning a shadow fell over her and two dead squirrels and a rabbit landed in her lap.

  Looking up, Sarah cringed to see Hawk Eyes towering above her. His face remained impassive, his voice stern as he commanded, “Clean,” before turning and walking away. He seemed unconcerned over the pine nuts he’d scattered into the dirt.

  Sarah looked at the lifeless bodies and swallowed hard. Panicking, she looked up and found many eyes on her and the retreating back of their chief. The challenge had been given.

  Her eyes sought Seeing Eyes. There she found her courage in the confident, knowing eyes of the older woman.

  Swallowing the queasiness that threatened to engulf her, Sarah stood, clutching the animals as she looked to Bright Blossom for help.

  Bright Blossom nodded and rose to follow her friend to the water. Sarah kneeled at the water’s edge, listening and following each instruction Bright Blossom gave her, following her example as she made the first slit into the rabbit.

  She gulped, a wave of dizziness overcoming her. I can’t do this, she thought to herself. Bright Blossom whispered encouragement. Voices from the crowd cheered her on. All but one.

  “White girl no do. White girl coward. Not brave as Sioux woman. See pale skin. She be sick. Bring shame to Golden Eagle,” Night Star jeered.

  Silence surrounded her. Sarah lifted her eyes to the smirking girl and found the courage she needed. Taking a deep breath she finished the incision and looked to her friend for the next instruction.

  She would do what she had to do. She would not shame Golden Eagle or his mother or Bright Blossom.

  When she finished, Sarah stirred a pot of meat stewing with roots and greens that she’d gathered. It was the first meal she’d prepared on her own.

  That night she sat proudly, using her fingers to scoop bits of meat into her mouth. She’d done it, to the cheers of the others as Night Star stormed off.

  Two weeks later, Sarah left the camp and headed toward the fast-moving stream. Lowering her aching body to the ground, she splashed cool soothing water over her face, neck and arms. Sitting on her heels, she stared at the sparkling water and reflected on the changes in her life.

  She’d never thought of her life as easy. There were always chores to be done at home, but never in all her days had she worked as hard as she had the past few weeks.

  She now realized how easy her life had really been. Mary and Ben and even her pa, when he’d been alive, had never expected her to do much of the dirty, hard work. It was humbling to find out just how much others had done for her.

  Sighing, she sat back and folded her arms around her knees and vowed aloud, “I’ll never complain again when Mary needs my help.”

  Closing her eyes to the still beauty surrounding her, Sarah laid her forehead upon her drawn-up knees. All the canning, baking, drying and tending of their small garden could not equal what she’d been through, not even if she added cleaning, sewing and caring for the livestock.

  Whoever had said Indians were lazy, dirty and slothful had never lived among them, Sarah decided with a low moan. Her respect for the hard-working women had grown daily.

  Golden Eagle had been gone three weeks now, and Seeing Eyes had insisted she sleep and live in their tipi. It was for her own protection as no young girl lived alone.

  Her day started when the sun co
uld barely be seen peeking over the horizon. Sarah was then assigned her tasks over the morning meal. Wood had to be gathered and water skins filled from the nearby stream. Even thinking about carrying the full pouches made her shoulders ache.

  Pulling her brows together in a frown, Sarah was so tired she could barely think.

  She ran her hands down the front of her dress, and groaned as her chapped hands snagged on the softness. Yesterday she’d been given the task of scrubbing soiled clothing. She looked at her hands. They were still red and raw from the long hours spent kneeling in the cold water.

  Sarah also helped Seeing Eyes prepare meals. She’d learned what greens and bark to gather, which ones she must never eat, where the best berries would soon be ready and so much more.

  Humming and buzzing filled the silence next to her as several bees darted in and out of tiny flowers. A squirrel leaped from one branch to another, stopped to eye the stranger below him and give her a loud scolding. She smiled at the tiny creature, and looked over her shoulder to make sure no brave or warrior held his bow and arrow trained on the unsuspecting animal.

  “You best leave and hide, my friend. Or it’s someone’s meal you shall become,” she warned, shuddering, her smile fading. The one chore she hated was the skinning and cleaning of small animals and fish.

  But now, she knew what parts to keep for food and other necessities. It still amazed her that there was so little waste. The women were resourceful and clever when it came to finding uses for the innards.

  She thought back to her week in the women’s hut several days after her arrival. It was the place women went when their monthlies flowed. At first, she’d felt banished, cast away, but quickly learned that the women enjoyed their week away from the hard daily labors. Gossip abounded. While the women waited for nature’s job to finish, they sewed. Sarah had learned much that week.

  She was surprised at the easy acceptance she met from most. Seeing Eyes had been right when she’d said Sarah would be judged on her performance, not her skin color.