Yet, there were many unfair practices in marriage. A man could seek out another woman or take one to his mats or on the forest ground and it was acceptable; but if a married woman did the same, she was beaten and banished for her wicked behavior! A man could take many women or mates; a woman was allowed only one! A man could take a white or enemy slave to his mat, but a woman could not! For a woman, nothing was worse than giving your body and love to a foe.
The whites did not understand the Indian courting process. Many thought the man purchased the woman. True, the man did give the female’s family gifts, usually horses or furs or weapons, but he was not paying for her. The kinds of gifts and their amounts revealed the man’s depth of love and desire for a particular female, and proved he had the prowess to be a good protector and provider for her.
As for multiple wives, Tashina felt as her grandmother, father, and the whites: a man should have only one wife. Yes, life on the Plains was dangerous, and there were more females than males for many reasons, and the Indian female’s life was hard, and there was a need for a warrior to have as many children as possible; but not where she was concerned. She wanted her husband all to herself. If she needed help, her husband could buy or capture her a slave or two.
In most tribes, as well as her own, a girl became a woman when she had her first monthly flow, which was usually at age fifteen or sixteen. It was an occasion for a feast and special ceremony, certainly if she was a chiefs or a high-ranking warrior’s daughter. Despite a girl’s modesty, everyone was told of the wonderful news of her arrival at the flap to womanhood. Yet, men feared and were awed by a female during her monthly; some tribes treated or viewed her as if she became an evil spirit once a month. In many, a bleeding female was forced to remain in a separate tepee during this time, to prevent the spread of her evil and to prevent her from touching anything that belonged to a warrior and thereby allowing her evil spirit to steal his power and magic. During this brief exile, a young girl spent time with her mother, grandmother, or an older female being educated on female tasks, responsibilities, and such.
At her feast following her first menstrual period, she was told of her duties and destiny by the shaman and was given a fluffy white eagle breath-feather to reveal her new status. The shaman prayed for her to be blessed by Whope’, the sacred White Buffalo Calf Woman, whose touch, Indian legend and religion said, possessed the power to heal and whose sharp eyes could pierce the shadows which concealed the future. It was said that Whope’ was involved in the creation of the Lakota people and she was the divine spirit who had birthed the sacred pipe ritual. During this part of a girl’s ceremony into womanhood, to honor Whope’ a beautiful white shield was used, one with a white buffalo head on a white hoop which bore white designs and displayed eight white eagle feathers: white, for the purity of the soul and body involved, which told a young girl how important chastity was.
Tashina had earned her eagle plume last summer, and braves had quickly taken notice of her marriageable status. She had pretended not to notice them or her rank, but when she was near Soul-of-Thunder, she forgot the importance placed on virtue. He stirred feelings to life within her which she knew must be a mating fever. She wanted him to hold her tightly, to kiss her feverishly, to fuse their bodies as one. Perhaps it was wicked of her to think and to feel—and especially to encourage—such behavior and emotions, but she could not help herself, and she could not believe such beautiful feelings were evil or wrong.
Bright Arrow returned to their tepee to gather a few belongings for his hasty trip. Tashina eagerly asked to go with him.
“I ride swiftly, daughter. You must prepare to break camp.” He did not want to frighten her with what he had learned at the fort, but he knew terrible times were ahead for them. He could not risk placing her life in peril for a visit to her Blackfeet friends. If there was trouble along the way, she could endanger him and Flaming Star.
She coaxed, “It will be many suns-before I can visit again. Please, Father, take me with you. All is done but dismantling the tepee.”
“Remain and help your grandmother. Her hands and body do not work as they used to. There is no time to ride slowly for a female.”
She knew it was useless and rude to plead or protest. “Will you take this to Soul-of-Thunder? The beading came loose and I repaired it.”
Bright Arrow accepted the knife sheath and smiled. “You are kind to your friends and your fingers are skilled. I cannot see where it was damaged or repaired. Windrider’s son will be pleased.”
Tashina felt guilty about lying to her father. That was a new flaw in her character, one perhaps born from the mating of love and desperation. She had asked Soul-of-Thunder if she could keep his sheath for a while to learn to make one for her father. She had fulfilled her intention, which was to bead it with his symbol: the ghostly shape of a man in white, clasping black thunderbolts in his hands and holding them above his head to reveal his power and magic. She was proud of her work and hoped he liked it and guessed the love with which it had been done.
Yet, when her father returned to camp, she learned that her love had sent only a polite thank you for her gift! It was their custom for a special gift to be given in return, but her love had ignored it. She had been hoping he would send her one of his colorfully etched armbands with which she could make a wristlet to wear with pride and joy. She helplessly wondered if his action was meant to tell her something, something which she did not wish to admit to herself.
Two days later, it was time to break camp. Early that morning, Shalee saddled her horse and used his strength to pull out the two largest tepee support poles to construct her travois. Two feet from the top ends, she crossed the poles above the animal’s withers and lashed them together, being careful not to catch the animal’s mane in her tight knots, as it could be yanked out during movement. Positioning the lower ends five feet apart, she secured them in place with wide strips of rawhide which ran from pole to pole beneath and over the horse, just behind his forelegs and before his hindlegs. The strips which encircled the helpful beast were lined with fur to prevent chaffing and discomfort when the weight of the travois pulled on the makeshift straps. As with the warriors, the women took the best of care with their horses, for their work load and survival depended upon the loyal beasts.
Next, Shalee fashioned a shelf with widths of rawhide and sturdy saplings to carry their home and belongings. Blankets had been placed over the animal’s back and flanks to prevent the poles from rubbing against his hide, and two thick buffalo skins were tossed over the poles for Shalee’s comfort while riding him. Items which she needed to reach quickly or to use during the day were placed inside a large double-sided parfleche and tossed over the horse’s croup like saddlebags. As if the first step in dismantling the chiefs tepee had been taken as a sign, all others had begun the same task on their conical abodes.
Shalee worked skillfully and diligently, having performed this task twice yearly since meeting Gray Eagle. The tepee lining was taken down, folded, and set outside near the travois. The buffalo skin beddings were rolled and bound tightly, and placed with it, as were all other possessions until the tepee was empty. Wooden pins which held together the one unstitched seam were removed to allow the tipi to slide down the remaining poles to the ground, where it could be folded and secured first to the travois. Two backrests were lashed to the makeshift cart, along with Shalee’s sewing pouch and assorted parfleches which contained the family’s possessions and their provisions for the impending journey. As with the other males, Gray Eagle and Sun Cloud strapped their weapons and sacred belongings in place; women were not supposed to handle them, and guards, hunters, and scouts could not be encumbered while carrying out their vital assignments during the trek.
Within a short time, all tepees were down, the horses and travois were loaded, and everyone was ready to leave the winter encampment. As nothing was wasted, the remaining poles were stacked aside to be used for firewood another day. Children were loaded last. Each family was g
iven an assigned place for the long trek, and was expected to keep to it each day so a man could locate his family easily when they halted for a rest or for the night.
Sun Cloud helped his mother to mount her horse. In tepees where there was more than one wife, one guided the horse, either by hand or by riding him, and the other or others took turns walking beside or riding upon the travois, unless it was filled with small children. Sometimes women carried babies in cradleboards or in their arms. If or when necessary, others gave help to the ill or injured or overburdened or widowed so the trip would not be slowed.
The man packed nothing except his weapons and sacred items; for the division of labor was strict, and men were never to do anything which was, or appeared, menial or feminine. Men were appointed to one of several groups during the trek: hunter, guard, or scout. Guards rode before, beside, and behind the long line of women and children to protect them from perils and to make certain nothing and no one delayed their progress; they could halt the long procession if a need—such as childbirth or illness or injury—arose or to prevent stragglers from being left behind. Others hunted for game which was shared amongst all the families. Others scouted ahead of the main group for dangers, campsites, and fresh game. Loyalty and duty were vital for the safety and survival of the tribe, and each man was expected to do his part, willingly and efficiently.
As the large group headed toward the Plains, Shalee remembered how many times she had performed this task. She recalled the first time, when she had not known what to do or how to do it. She recalled the year of 1782 when Leah Winston was in their lives, and she had been plagued with amnesia. Yet, with Turtle Woman’s help and kindness, she had dismantled Gray Eagle’s tepee and packed their belongings. What joy and excitement she had experienced that day when her labors had been so richly rewarded. That was one time when Bright Arrow and Gray Eagle had helped her with the chores, and had ignored the prohibition against men doing demeaning “woman’s work.”
Five days passed swiftly and wearily, and uneventfully. The group moved more slowly than they did during the fall trek, for bodies were still sluggish from the winter’s rest. Too, they realized how busy they would be as soon as their summer camp was set up and the buffalo hunt was in progress. For the women, there was wood and fresh water to be fetched each day; wild vegetables, fruits, and berries to be gathered; food to be cooked for daily consumption; meat to be dried and preserved for winter rations; children to be tended and educated according to sex; hides to be tanned; garments to be made; beading to be done; and mates to be enjoyed. For the men, there was hunting each day; there were raiding parties; there were meetings with other tribes; there were weapons, shields, and sacred items to be made or repaired; there were ceremonies to perform; there were boys to train as hunters and warriors; there was painting to be done on tepees and shields; there were friends and tepees to be guarded; there were tales to be told, lest they be forgotten by the young; there were games and contests which made and kept warriors strong and alert; and there was strategy to be planned against their enemies.
Spring, summer, and fall were busy seasons; the white man knew this and chose his assault times cunningly. Shalee dreaded this approaching summer, for not in years had the white man been so determined to defeat the Indians. Each time they approached an area where foes could hide and attack, the column was halted while warriors made certain it was safe to proceed. It was infuriating and depressing to live one’s life in constant peril and doubt. Again, Shalee was reminded of the peace they had enjoyed before Colonel Derek Sturgis had been reassigned back east, before the Lewis and Clark Expedition and the ending of the War of 1812 had inspired more men to move westward, and before the whites felt they owned this land through the Louisiana Purchase.
“What troubles your mind, Mother?” Sun Cloud asked as he rode up beside Shalee, as it was his turn to be a guard that day.
She smiled at her younger son and confessed ruefully, “I was remembering how it was in seasons past when our lands knew peace. I wish you could know such times, my son, but they are gone forever. When I think of what is before you and our people, my heart is heavy with sadness and grief. So much will be asked and expected of you,” she murmured as moisture dampened her lashes.
“You must not worry, Mother. Sun Cloud will protect you and father and our people,” he spoke confidently to reassure her.
Shalee gazed at him, seeing how much he favored Gray Eagle in looks and character. “You are like your father was long ago when we first met—strong and bold and confident and cocky.” She halted to explain the English word “cocky” and watched her son laugh in amusement. “Long ago, he also thought nothing and no one could defeat him or conquer his lands. He was forced to learn a bitter lesson. My beloved son, if only you knew what perils stand before you. I know of the white man’s numbers and weapons; I know of his greed and power. I dread the day when you must learn of such evil and its demands. You were born to become chief of the Oglalas, my son, and you will do so very soon. You will be feared and respected and loved and hated, as your father is. You must be strong, Sun Cloud, for many dark days are ahead. You must allow nothing and no one to sway you from your destiny. You must allow your head to rule over your heart. Being a chief is difficult and painful, but your father has trained you well. When you take his place, remember all he has taught you,” she advised.
“We will defeat the whites, Mother. Peace will rule our lands.”
“No, my son, lasting peace is gone forever. You must defend your people; you must guide them wisely. You must seek truce if the whites will allow it; only through truce can the Oglalas survive. You must learn to share our lands, or the whites will take them by force. You must learn to accept them, or they will destroy all you know and love. They are powerful, my son, know and accept this fact, or you will battle for a victory which can never be won. Seek peace with honor, even if you must taste it as a bitter defeat.”
“The whites do not wish peace, Mother; they desire all we have in lands and lives,” he argued softly, not wanting to upset or hurt her.
“I know, my son; that is why you must work hard and long to capture any measure of peace. Do not allow your pride to destroy your people forever. Some white leaders and peoples are not evil; it is those you must seek out and work with. The whites cannot be kept out of our lands forever. If you do not strive for peace or truce, the Oglalas will vanish from the face of Mother Earth. Hear me, my son, these are not the words of a silly woman. I lived with the whites, and I know them. Truce, however bitter, is better than Mother Earth with no Oglalas. One day, the white man will realize his evil and he will halt it. Until that day, you must make certain the Oglalas survive. Do not allow false pride to blind you, to say you can defeat this enemy. They are not Crow or Arikara, my son; they are countless and strong. Promise me you will remember my words and heed them if the time for truce approaches you. Your father is a legend in these lands, and legends live as challenges to enemies. Seek to be a wise chief more than a powerful one. Seek to be a leader, my precious son, not a legend, for few legends live on more than pages of history.”
“All listen to and follow my father. Is it wrong to be a great chief?”
“No, Sun Cloud, but the day has come when a great chief must lead his people into peace, not war, unless peace is impossible.”
“The whites make it impossible, Mother,” he stressed.
“Then you must find a way to make it possible, my son.”
“How so?” he inquired gravely. “It is the duty of a Sacred Bow carrier to protect his people and lands, to make war on their enemies.”
“It is also the carrier’s duty to seek and to find peace for his people, my son. Keep your eyes and mind open, and the Great Spirit will guide you to the path for survival for His people.”
Sun Cloud eyed his mother intently, wondering how much she truly knew and understood about this conflict. She had lived as white for many winters and carried white blood; perhaps she was still plagued by the wa
r between her two peoples and perhaps she only dreamed of peace, a peace which he knew was impossible. “I will think upon your words, Mother, for you have lived many seasons and witnessed many things. We will speak later. I must return to my duty.”
Shalee watched him ride away and felt the tuggings at her heart, for she knew he had no accurate idea of what he was confronting. Like Gray Eagle of years past, he believed he and his people were invincible. Anguish swept over her, knowing the arduous road he would travel. Sun Cloud was so young and full of life, and he had no idea of the toll constant war could have on a chief and his family and his people. If only he could have a little span of peace and happiness before his illusions were shattered brutally by the hatred between the Indians and the whites. She dreaded to think of the bitterness and hatred which would consume and alter him once he lost loved ones and witnessed the dark evil of her people. It would be a long time, if ever, before peace obtained.
Time came to make camp for the night. Shalee spread the sleeping rolls as she waited for their evening meal to be ready. Then Gray Eagle joined her, kissing her cheek and embracing her tenderly. When she told him about her talk with Sun Cloud, he smiled sadly and remarked, “As with your husband, he must learn such things for himself. You must also face the truth, my wife; peace died long ago in our lands. There is nothing more to be done except to survive as best we can until the Great Spirit calls our names. I am weary of fighting, but we must continue our battle with the whites, for they will claim all if we weaken or yield. Oglalas were not born to live on reservations or to live beside forts near the soldiers’ evil. We must do all necessary to keep our honor and freedom. We must pray for strength and guidance.”
Bittersweet Ecstasy Page 12