Lone Arrow's Pride

by Karen Kay

  He said, reaching up to take the deerskin blindfold from her eyes, “I have brought you to a sacred place, that you might see it, and that I might pray. This I would do before we go to the cave.”

  As soon as he removed the blindfold, she blinked her eyes rapidly, bringing up a hand to shield her sight from the bright rays of the sun. Where were they?

  Gazing around her, she was awestruck, not only by the beauty of the place but by Lone Arrow’s words as well.

  She asked, “This is a sacred place?”

  “Éeh,” he nodded. “It is a very sacred place. My people call this place the Medicine Wheel.” Lone Arrow had turned to her pony, was taking out a small bag from his belongings.

  And Carolyn watched. However, after a short time, she said, “I have been here before.”

  That statement appeared to surprise him. “You have?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “Eight and a half years ago. I stumbled upon these stones.”

  “It-chik, good,” he said. “Did you pray?”

  She shook her head. “I did not know this was a holy place.”

  “Ho,” he said. “It is good that I have brought you here, then, for now you can pray.”

  Carolyn nodded. But she wondered, should she tell him the rest of what had taken place here? Would he think her demented?

  One deep breath for courage, and she said, “It is here that I discovered the whirlwind.”

  For some reason this statement stopped Lone Arrow in his tracks.

  Turning to her, he asked, “A whirlwind?”

  “Yes,” she said. “It came to me after I had fallen over one of these stones. The odd thing was that the whirlwind acted like a living creature. In truth, it brought me to you.”

  “To me?”

  Carolyn nodded. “I had asked it to lead me to Fort C.F. Smith, and after several attempts at trying to get me to follow it, it brought me to you.”

  For the space of a moment, Lone Arrow stared at her, his mouth open and disbelief clearly etched upon his face.

  However, shrugging, and extending a hand out to her, he did no more than say, “Come, let me show you the wheel. There are legends connected with this place.”

  “There are?”

  He nodded. “Many. Would you like to hear them?”

  Carolyn bobbed her head, and placing her hand into his, they took a few paces toward the stones.

  “Here,” he said, indicating a place on the ground. “Sit here, next to me, and I will tell you my story.”

  Carolyn sat.

  “It is said,” Lone Arrow began, “by some of my people that this is the place where the san comes to visit and to camp. Some say that these stones are evidence of the sun’s camp. Others claim that the wheel was made by Burnt Face, a man of some legend amongst my people. But whether it is the sun or Burnt Face, many of my people come here to fast and to say prayers. It is here where a person can best commune with the One Above.”

  As the wind whisked into her face, Carolyn felt a shudder, which could be part awe, part fear, run through her body. Trembling, she placed her hand within Lone Arrow’s own.

  He continued, “Do you see that there is a large circle here?”

  She nodded.

  “And do you see that there are spokes, like those in a wheel, leading from the center to the outer circle?”

  Again she nodded.

  “Some say,” continued Lone Arrow, gesturing toward the circle, “that this was once a gigantic tepee that was built by Burnt Face. Now, as I said, Burnt Face is a legend amongst my people. He was a man who accomplished many great things, even though his face was scarred when he was a child, and he was made the object of some ridicule.

  “Now, there are many,” he continued, “who tell of the eagle who took pity upon Burnt Face here, in this very spot. And do you know how it first appeared to him?”

  Carolyn shook her head.

  “It came to him first as a whirlwind.”

  “A whirlwind? Here?”

  Lone Arrow nodded. “There is more. Did you know that eight and one half years ago, as I lay upon a nearby mountain, I was having a vision of the whirlwind?”

  Again Carolyn shook her head.

  “It has been my helper all through my life,” he said.

  “And it assisted me, too,” said Carolyn.

  Once more, Lone Arrow treated her to a searching glance. He said, “And now I will tell you another story. One that you may have wondered about…the story of the cave.”

  “The cave?”

  He nodded. “Have you not puzzled over the riches that you saw there? Where did they come from? Who put them there and why?”

  “Yes,” said Carolyn, “but I was afraid to ask.”

  “As you should be. Now,” he said, “this is the story that was told to me by my father, and his father before him, as was passed down from grandfather to grandfather. It is a story that is sacred to my family, and it is one that is repeated save only to those who are to become the protector of the cave.”

  “And you are telling me?”

  He nodded. “I have reason,” he said, “to believe that this is the right thing to do.”

  Carolyn gulped.

  “Long ago,” Lone Arrow began, “before the world was as we know it, there lived a different people here upon this earth. Some were giants. Some were little people, no taller than my knee. The little people still live here, in caves and in the underground. Sometimes you can see them in the mountain range that the white man calls the Pryor Mountains.

  “Now, these people, though small, are yet very strong. They have been seen carrying a full-grown antelope upon their backs.”

  “Huh.”

  “Éeh, but I leave my story. The little people and the giants went often to war. You have seen the evidence of this in their stone arrowheads which can still be found upon this land. Now, while the little people lived in caves, the giants built strong forts. Here they kept many beautiful things that they made from gold. But gold is not always an easy thing to find, and in order to obtain the gold they needed, the giants disturbed the dwellings of the little people.

  “Thus,” he went on to say, “the giants and the little people went to war. Now, in this war, the giants, though a larger people, kept losing. One day, they knew that all they had would be lost. In an effort to save their kingdom, they gathered their things together and hid them in the cave, which you saw eight and a half years ago.”

  “Then the gold belongs to the giants?”

  He nodded. “As they predicted,” continued Lone Arrow with the story, “the little people overwhelmed the giants and killed them to a man. And so great was the loss, that you do not see nor find the remains of these giants, even to this day.

  “Now as the legend goes, before the last giant was killed, as revenge to the little people, he placed a curse over the treasure, so that misfortune would befall anyone who dared to take something that was not his own. And so it is that many times have the little people found that cave; many times have they taken something; many is also the time they have suffered for doing it.”

  As she had, thought Carolyn.

  “But there was someone else here, though not of physical form. Someone else who watched what was happening. Someone who guarded the mountain and all within it, be they little people or large. My people call him the mountain god. And this being, seeing his children suffer, called upon my people to help.

  “Now, the message went out throughout the land,” Lone Arrow continued. “There would be tests. Tests of skill, tests of honor and of endurance. The god of the mountain called upon all the valiant warriors of my tribe to participate in these trials. Many took part, but in the end, only one was chosen to become the protector of the treasure and of the sacred mountain. That person was my ancestor. And so it began. It has never stopped. The responsibility for the cave and for the mountain has been handed down father to son in every generation. It is now mine to assume.”

  He paused, and Carolyn sat in silenc
e, not knowing what to say, what to do.

  “There is more,” he said. “The spiritual helper for all those in my family who are chosen is always the whirlwind. As it has been my father’s helper, it is now mine…and yours…”

  “Mine?”

  He nodded. “It is perhaps fitting, for I have always felt a special connection to you. Even before we were married, before you returned to this, your home, you were a part of me. And now, it is clear to me why this has been.”

  And Carolyn, gazing up at him, asked, “Why?”

  “Do you truly not know?”

  Although she suspected what was to come, she shook her head.

  And he explained, “You are as much a protector of that cave as I am. It is now your responsibility, too. You share it with me. Come,” said Lone Arrow, taking her hand in his. “My people journey here to pray. Before we go to the cave, let us say our prayers.”

  Coming up onto his feet, Lone Arrow looked upon her with open admiration. After a few moments, he reached out a hand toward her, where he twirled his fingers into her chestnut-colored curls. He said, “You are so beautiful. It is a good thing that I have brought you here, for it has caused us to become even closer. We will pray, each in our own way, I think.”

  Carolyn nodded and bowed her head, while Lone Arrow produced the bag he had taken from the horse. In it was an herb.

  She asked, “What is that?”

  Lone Arrow looked at his hand. “This is a plant the white man calls sage. I am offering it to the four directions, to the four winds and to the One Above.”

  Carolyn nodded, and quietly, with the wind whipping around them, they prayed, and as Lone Arrow had suggested, each in their own way.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Both Carolyn and Lone Arrow were quiet as they left the site of the Medicine Wheel, each lost in thought.

  It was true, Carolyn had felt closer to her Maker at that spot, but she had also been disturbed. Whatever the cause of such uneasiness, however, she could not guess.

  She did sense that it was as though the spirit who lived here was agitated about something. But what?

  Was it her? Should she not have gone there? Had she committed some faux pas by praying there, when she was white, not Indian?

  As she and Lone Arrow had descended the mountaintop, Lone Arrow had taken pause to ceremoniously give her the soft deerskin, which had covered her eyes. It was no longer needed, he said.

  Wasn’t it? If it were not truly needed, then why did she feel that the spirit that lived there was angry? And possibly at her? She had, after all, taken something from that cave.

  Glancing back the way they had come, Carolyn searched out that high spot in the mountains, wondering if she could still see the circle from here. Perhaps wondering, too, if the whirlwind might not make itself known to her once again. For a moment, she was unaware of her surroundings.

  She felt a jerk on her buckskin reins, followed by the sound of sliding rocks nearby. Another jerk, another pull, then the horrible din of rocks crashing together.

  Spinning around in her seat, she called out, “Lone Arrow.”

  No answer.

  Dear Lord, what was happening? She did not see him. His pony, yes, but where was he?

  Carolyn stared around her.

  She and her horse, as well as A-la-pee, were situated on a narrow ridge. Dismounting, Carolyn dropped to her feet and peeked over the ledge.

  She gasped. There was nothing below her but a steep drop.

  Pure panic filled her soul. Had he fallen down there?

  “Lone Arrow?” she called, paying no attention to the fact that if there might be danger of landslide, one should speak softly. In truth, she could barely think.

  “Lone Arrow?” she cried once again.

  What might have first been panic became horror. Dear God, she prayed, please let him be alive.

  What had happened? Just a few moments before, he had been leading their horses. Carolyn had to think. She’d seen nothing, of course; she had been gazing off in the opposite direction. But she had felt the pull on the reins, heard the crash of rocks.

  He must have slipped.

  Lone Arrow slip? How could that be? He knew these mountains better than anyone else.

  But he now carried the cross upon his person.

  Groaning Carolyn sat back upon her haunches. How could she have done it? So involved had she been in the story he had weaved around her, she had forgotten to tell him about the cross. And especially that she had planted it on him.

  The fault was hers. Hers.

  Stunned, Carolyn froze. Why, oh why, she admonished herself, had she not told Lone Arrow about the cross?

  Please let him be alive.

  Situating herself on her stomach, she once more peered over the ledge. He had to be alive; he just had to be.

  But she could see very little, and the wind kept whipping her hair into her eyes. Reaching up, she tried to push that hair behind her ears, but it was useless.

  She had to do something. But what? There was no hero here to save the day. There was no one here but her.

  What could she do?

  She glanced up toward his horse. Was there a rope upon A-la-pee? One that she might be able to use to climb down the face of this mountain?

  That was when she saw it.

  The whirlwind.

  Grass and rocks scattered as it came twisting toward her. On it came, closer and closer, until Carolyn felt certain it might encompass her. But it did not.

  Skirting around her, it slid down the mountainside. And following its progress with her gaze, Carolyn came down full length upon the ridge, peeking over the edge to sneak a look below her.

  The thing had alit onto another rocky edge of the mountain, one that might have been wide enough to break the fall of a man.

  Hope sprang up within her. Carolyn had not seen that projection.

  There the thing stopped, and beside it was…what? The figure of…a man?

  Was it Lone Arrow? Was he alive?

  Quickly but steadily Carolyn stood, and with care, she edged her way toward A-la-pee. Did the pony have a rope tied to her?

  No, only the buckskin reins.

  Glancing around her, Carolyn despaired. She had nothing, nothing that would get her to him, if it was him.

  Could she climb down there? Peering over the ledge, once more on hands and knees, Carolyn thought she might attempt it, but when her first footfall caused a minor landslide, she knew she would have to find another way.

  Glancing down, she called, “Lone Arrow, is it you down there? Can you hear me?”

  No answer.

  “Oh, please wake up.”

  Oddly enough the whirlwind twisted around the body there, as though it protected it.

  And she said, “Are you the god who lives in the mountain? The same god who protects this place?”

  No answer came from it.

  “If you are that god, I know that you mean no harm. You once saved me by leading me to Lone Arrow. I am now going to do the same for him, for I think it is Lone Arrow down there on that ledge. But I have to leave here to get a rope.”

  She started to rise, thought better of it, and sprawled back out onto the ledge. Glancing over the rocks, she addressed the whirlwind once more, saying, “If that is Lone Arrow, he has the cross upon his person. But he does not know it. I placed it there last night. I meant no harm. I only did it to ensure that the cross was returned to the cave. Please understand,” she cried, when she detected no change, “I am here not to take anything else from the cave, but to return that which I stole from it a little over eight years ago.”

  Still, no answer came to her, nor did the whirlwind turn into an eagle like it had in the story of Burnt Face. But it did do another thing.

  It centered itself upon the body there, darting from head to feet. And as Carolyn watched, it repeated the maneuver, this time shooting from feet back to head.

  And in the next instant, the person awoke. Bringing a hand to his
head, he tried to sit up. It was Lone Arrow.

  “Don’t move!” Carolyn sobbed, calling down to him from the ledge. “You fell and are on a very thin ridge on the mountain.”

  Dazedly, Lone Arrow glanced up at her. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I only heard the crashing of rocks, and then I couldn’t find you.”

  Lone Arrow nodded. “I remember.”

  “If not for the whirlwind, I would still not know what had happened.”

  “Whirlwind?”

  “Look to your right.”

  Lone Arrow did, but it was of no use. The thing had vanished.

  “It was there. I saw it. It found you and brought you back to life.”

  Lone Arrow took this knowledge in stride, acknowledging her with a nod. He said, “I think I can climb out of here.”

  “No, do not try it,” said Carolyn. “Lone Arrow, I should have told you before now, and I am sorry that I could not muster up courage enough to say it sooner.”

  Looking up at her, he asked, “What?”

  “The thing that I took…”

  Lone Arrow remained silent.

  “That thing that I told you was of no value…remember?”

  Again Lone Arrow did not speak.

  “Well,” she said, “it was a small, golden cross, and it has brought me and my family nothing but bad luck. Know that I have told the truth about my intentions. I have wanted to do nothing more than return the cross to where it belongs, but I have been afraid to tell you. Afraid that you might think badly of me or refuse me aid; afraid that you might insist on taking the cross from me; afraid that if I, and I alone, did not return the cross, that the curse could not be broken.”

  Staring up at her, Lone Arrow said, “I am glad that you have decided to tell me, but—”

  “You now have the cross.”

  “I?”

  “Well, I was afraid that you might make me go to the cave naked, after all, and then I would have had no hiding place for it. And so I hid it on you. It is in your quiver and bow case.”

  Quickly, Lone Arrow removed his quiver, and taking his arrows from it, reached down into it. Within moments, he brought out the cross, holding it up to her.