Shadows Through Time

by Madeline Baker

  She stood in the center of the lodge, her heart pounding with excitement because she would soon be in his arms. Reese closed the flap on the tipi, assuring that they wouldn’t be disturbed.

  Padding toward the center of the lodge, he stirred the banked fire in the pit. Tiny flames licked at the dry wood. Shadows danced over the lodgeskins.

  “Come here,” Reese said, his voice low and husky.

  She moved toward him, her gaze on his face, every nerve and cell quivering in anticipation of his kiss, his touch.

  His hands slid up and down her arms, making her shiver with delight, and then he drew her into his arms. His mouth swooped down on hers, teasing, tasting. She reached for him, her hands hungry for the touch of his skin. The muscles in his arms bunched and relaxed as she explored the width of his biceps.

  He groaned low in his throat as she thrust her hips against his in open, blatant invitation.

  Unable to wait longer, he lowered her to the blankets spread beside the fire. He was all too aware of how fragile life was, of how quickly their time together was coming to an end. His hands trembled as he undressed her, his lips caressed each inch of newly bared flesh.

  Her own hands were none too steady as she made short work of his clothing and then they were lying side by side, skin to skin, on the blankets.

  “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, “so damn beautiful sometimes it hurts my eyes to look at you.”

  “You are,” she replied breathlessly. She moaned softly as his hands, his large clever hands, stroked her from shoulder to thigh.

  “Now, Reese,” she gasped. “Now, now, now.”

  “Easy, sweetheart, we’ve got all night.”

  She writhed beneath him. “I can’t wait. Please, Reese.”

  “I like a woman who says please,” he murmured, rising over her.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, cried out with pleasure as his body meshed with hers. She cried his name as he pleasured her, his loving so complete, so exquisite, it was almost painful in its intensity.

  Completion found him moments later. She cradled him to her, feeling tender and protective as shudders racked his body.

  Resting on his elbows, his breath hot against her neck, he whispered that he loved her, would always love her.

  And she wondered once again how she would ever leave him.

  * * * * *

  The next few days passed without incident. Kelsey set up housekeeping in their lodge. She and Reese had little other than their clothing. Reese had his weapons, of course. Kelsey had packed her tunic and moccasins and she laughed out loud at the surprised expressions on the faces of Angie and her grandfather the first time they saw her in her Indian clothing.

  “I wish I had my camera,” Papa Joe said. “Mary would have loved to see you in that getup.”

  Within days, Papa Joe and Angelina were both wearing Lakota garb.

  Papa Joe took to Lakota life like a fish to water. Among the Lakota, elders were revered and although Papa Joe didn’t speak the language, the Indians accorded him the respect due his age.

  Angelina was slower to accept her new lifestyle, though she quickly grew fond of Hantaywee and began calling her Unci, which was pronounced uhn-chee and meant Grandmother.

  Now that they were going to be there for who knew how long, Kelsey spent more time observing the Lakota people. She noticed that the boys were taught to use a bow and arrows when they were very young and that both girls and boys were taught to ride almost before they could walk. The boys played war games that, at times, seemed quite fierce. The little girls, like little girls the world over, played with dolls. As the girls grew older, they put their dolls away and began helping their mothers with household chores, like cooking and cleaning. Older girls were also expected to look after their little brothers and sisters. They were also taught how to tan hides, as well as quilling and beadwork. All the children Kelsey met were soft-spoken and polite. They treated their elders with respect and never entered a tipi without knocking on the side of the lodge first.

  By being observant, Kelsey learned that colors were often more than just decoration. According to Hantaywee, colors were used to represent the different Lakota gods and to express emotions and character traits, as well. Wi, the god of the sun, was represented by the color red, as were all of the things that the People held sacred. Maka was the Lakota god of the earth, his color was green. Kelsey thought that made perfect sense, since grass and leaves and many edible plants and vegetables were green. Yellow was the color assigned to Inyan, the Rock. Skan, the most potent of the Lakota gods, was the god of the sky. Not surprisingly, Skan’s color was blue. The nature of mankind was represented by black and white—black for anger and white for happiness.

  The colors chosen for clothing often depicted the wearer’s personality. Garments that were colored red proclaimed that the wearer was wakan; green told of generosity; yellow stood for bravery. Few things were painted blue, for blue was the symbolic color of Wakan Tanka, the Great Spirit and was used for spiritual things only.

  Not only did the Lakota paint their lodges, their clothing and themselves, but their horses, as well. A red hand print, known as a blood mark, painted on a horse’s flank, meant that the rider had killed an enemy in hand-to-hand combat. A rectangle meant the warrior had led a war party. Painting a red circle around a horse’s nose was believed to give the animal a heightened sense of smell; red or white lines drawn around the animal’s eyes were believed to add strength to its sight. To increase a horse’s speed, warriors painted streaks of lightning running from a horse’s rump down its hind legs and from its head down its front legs. To boast of coup counted in battle, a warrior painted short horizontal lines on his mount’s nose. Warriors also painted red circles around scars that their mounts sustained in battle.

  In these, the last days of summer, the Lakota were busily preparing for the fall hunt and the winter to follow. Autumn was a busy time of year. The women spent hours gathering vegetables and nuts and drying meat for the coming winter. The men went hunting at every opportunity, sometimes burning the prairie so that the buffalo would come nearer the hunting camps.

  “The tribe will be moving to the Black Hills soon,” Reese told her late one afternoon.

  “Are we going with them?”

  “That’s up to you. We can either hole up there until it’s time for the portal to open, or we can hunker down in Deadwood until October.”

  Neither option was particularly appealing. An early winter could leave them snowbound in the Hills. Deadwood was a wild town, filled with con men, gamblers and women of ill repute, hardly a fit place for Angelina.

  It was Angie who made the decision. To everyone’s surprise, in the short time they had been in the village, she had not only picked up a little of the Lakota language, but a beau, as well.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Angelina walked along the riverbank beside Hehaka Luta. Though he spoke very little English and she spoke only a smattering of Lakota, they managed to communicate quite well, most likely because what they felt for each other was beyond words. She had been fond of Danny Hamilton but what she had felt for Danny was nothing compared to what she felt for Hehaka Luta. He understood her in ways no one ever had before. He knew when she was feeling sad or lonely or lost and best of all, he knew when she needed to be held and when she needed to be left alone.

  What he didn’t know was how to kiss, but that was something that she quickly remedied.

  In the days that followed, Angelina and Hehaka Luta invented many ways to meet by accident so they could spend time together. And with every passing day, she grew to love him more.

  She was sitting in Hantaywee’s lodge one evening, learning to make moccasins, when Hantaywee informed her that Hehaka Luta had come courting. Angelina hadn’t realized Indians courted one another, although, thinking about it now, she supposed it shouldn’t come as a surprise. They married and had children, after all.

  Pleased that Hehak
a Luta had come to call and curious to find out what courting involved among the Lakota, Angelina followed the old woman outside to where Hehaka Luta was waiting.

  Angie smiled a greeting, then widened her eyes in surprise when Hehaka Luta shook out the red blanket draped over his arm and held it over their heads and around their shoulders, hiding them from sight in a cocoon made of wool.

  It was quite cozy, she thought, overcoming her surprise. Shut away from passersby, she could touch him and kiss him to her heart’s content and she did. He moaned softly as her hands caressed his chest and his back. She ran her fingertips over the muscles in his arms, felt them quiver at her touch. Cupping his face in her palms, she kissed him, a long lingering kiss that he returned with great enthusiasm.

  It grew warm very quickly inside their cloth cocoon. Considering the heat of their kisses, Angelina was surprised the blanket didn’t go up in flames. One more kiss, and then one more, and Hehaka Luta lowered the blanket so they could breathe.

  Angelina was startled to see Hantaywee standing a short distance away talking to several other women. For a moment, she had forgotten anyone else existed. Hidden in the folds of the blanket, there had been no one in all the world but the two of them.

  She smiled, her cheeks hot, as Hehaka Luta bid her goodnight and walked away. She slid a glance at Hantaywee, wondering if the old woman and everyone else in the camp knew what had transpired beneath the blanket.

  Later that night, as she lay in bed staring up at the sky through the smoke hole of the lodge, she heard the sweet, lilting notes of a flute. The music seemed to wrap around her, as if a ghostly lover were caressing her in the darkness.

  “It is Hehaka Luta,” Hantaywee said.

  Angie sat up. “It is? How do you know?”

  “I know. He is hidden somewhere in the dark, hoping you will hear the music he makes and know that he cares for you.”

  “Did he make the flute himself?” Angie asked, growing more curious by the minute.

  “No. A Big Twisted Flute can only be made by a man who has dreamed of the buffalo. It is a powerful instrument, made to express love. Such a flute might cost a young man a fine horse, but it is a small price to pay.”

  Angie smiled as she settled under her blankets again, thinking she had never heard anything more hauntingly beautiful, or more romantic, than the music Hehaka Luta played on the big twisted flute.

  Hehaka Luta came courting the next night and the next. It was exciting, being courted in such a way, but it didn’t really give them a chance to be alone the way Angie wanted and so, being young and resourceful and eager, she and Hehaka Luta conspired to meet by accident when Angie went to gather wood or water. There was no shame in meeting this way, as it was expected that young lovers would seek to be alone.

  On this day, they met by the river early in the morning. And it was there, sometime later, that Reese found them.

  “Hantaywee’s waiting for that water.”

  Angie looked up, startled at the sound of his voice. “Oh, it’s you.”

  Reese glanced from Angie to Hehaka Luta and back again. “How serious are you two?”

  “Very,” Angie said. “Hehaka Luta wants to marry me, but he doesn’t know who to ask.”

  “I reckon that would be me,” Reese said.

  Taking Angie by the hand, Hehaka Luta rose to his full height. “It is my wish to take Angelina as my wife,” he said, speaking in Lakota.

  Reese nodded. “I’ll think about it,” he replied, also in Lakota.

  “I will bring horses to your lodge before the sun sets,” Hehaka Luta said. He looked meaningfully at Angie, then walked away.

  “Are you sure about this?” Reese asked. “You haven’t known each other very long.”

  “I’m sure. You won’t tell him no, will you?”

  “Not if you’re sure this is what you want. You’d best give it a lot of thought. It won’t be easy, living with the Lakota. They don’t have much in the way of fripperies and stuff. Along about December it’s gonna start to snow and the tribe will move to the Black Hills to spend the winter. It’s a hard life at the best of times. You ready to give up pretty dresses and the comforts of livin’ in a town?”

  “I’ve thought about it a lot,” she said. “I know I’ll miss some things, but I’d miss Hehaka Luta more. You can argue all you want, but my mind’s made up. If you won’t let us get married, then we’ll just run away.”

  A muscle worked in Reese’s jaw. “Is that right?”

  She nodded. “We already talked about it.”

  “I won’t say no.”

  “What happens next?”

  “Hehaka Luta will bring horses to my lodge. Kelsey and Hantaywee will help you build a lodge for the two of you.”

  “When will we get married?”

  “When the lodge is done, Hehaka Luta will take you to it and you’ll be married.”

  “Just like that? No one marries us?”

  “No, not in the white man’s way. Lakota marriages aren’t sanctified by a church. Marriage among the Lakota takes place here,” he said, placing his hand over her heart. “Once you’re married, you’ll become part of Hehaka Luta’s family. You’ll have to learn to get along with his sisters and female relatives and banter with his brothers. And if it doesn’t work out, all you have to do is walk away.”

  “What if his family doesn’t like me, because I’m not Lakota?”

  “I don’t think that’ll be a problem, but if it is, then it’s something else you’ll have to adjust to, just like he’d have to adjust to the prejudices of your people if you took him home.”

  Angie thought about that for a few moments, then nodded. She was used to being looked down upon. In her whole life, she’d never had any friends. The decent women in the town didn’t want their sons or daughters associating with the daughter of a harlot.

  “All right, then,” Reese said. “As long as you’re sure this is what you want, let’s go tell Kelsey and the old man.”

  * * * * *

  “Are you sure about this?” Kelsey asked. “You hardly know him.” She felt a little hypocritical as she said the words. Who was she to talk? She hadn’t known Reese much longer when she married him. And she had to admit that Hehaka Luta was a fine young man and obviously very much in love with Angie.

  “I don’t suppose hearts have calendars,” Papa Joe remarked.

  Kelsey nodded. Marrying Hehaka Luta would certainly solve most of Angie’s problems, although it might add just as many more. How would Angie feel about staying here when the rest of them went back to Grant’s Crossing? Still, it was Angie’s decision. Even though Kelsey felt responsible for the girl, she had no legal right to tell her what she could or couldn’t do.

  “I hope you’ll be happy,” Kelsey said, giving Angelina a hug.

  “Me, too, honey,” Papa Joe said. “So, when’s the big day?”

  “Just as soon as I have a lodge of my own,” Angie replied, smiling. “Hehaka Luta said he would bring horses to Reese this evening. How many do you think he’ll offer?”

  “I don’t know,” Reese answered. “Depends on how wealthy he is.”

  “Is he going to buy them?” Angie asked, frowning.

  “No. Lakota measure their wealth in horses.”

  “Well, come on,” Kelsey said, taking Angie by the hand. “Let’s go talk to Hantaywee.”

  Later that day, just before the sun went down, Hehaka Luta left eight horses in front of Reese’s lodge.

  “Eight horses seems like a lot,” Angelina said, stroking the neck of a lovely paint mare.

  “It’s a respectable number,” Reese said. “It means he holds you in high esteem. They’re all fine-looking animals, too. I reckon he’s a wealthy young man.”

  She considered that a moment, then asked, “Who do they belong to?”

  “According to Lakota custom, they would belong to your closest male relative, but since you don’t have any family here, I reckon they’re yours.”

  “Mine?”
>
  “That’s right,” he said, grinning. “I reckon that makes you a wealthy young woman.”

  “I want you to take one of them,” Angie said with a shy smile, “for being so nice to me.”

  Reese’s gaze moved over the horses. “I’ll take the black mare, if it’s all right with you.”

  Angie nodded. “Maybe you should take one for Kelsey, too,” Angie suggested.

  “That’s right nice of you.”

  “Do you think she’d like that pretty chestnut?”

  “Reckon so.” Angie was going to fit right in, he thought. The Lakota were a warm and unselfish people. Generosity was a trait highly valued. A man who acquired wealth and didn’t share it was looked down upon, while a man who couldn’t accumulate wealth was to be pitied. Young people shared what they had with their elders, women offered gifts to orphans and widows, hunters distributed their catch with those who were too old or too sick to hunt.

  Feasts were often given by families to celebrate a successful hunt or a marriage or a successful raid. Everyone in the village was invited to such occasions and gifts were exchanged.

  In fact, it was hard to think of any special occasion that didn’t involve the exchange of gifts.

  “Won’t be long now until you’re a married woman,” Reese remarked.

  The mere idea made Angelina smile. Tomorrow, she and Kelsey and Hantaywee would begin to build her new lodge. Hantaywee had told her that a wife was expected to have food ready whenever her husband was hungry. She would be in charge of fire-keeping and bed-making, of keeping their lodge clean and rearing whatever children they might be blessed with. She would be expected to entertain her husband’s friends and treat her in-laws with respect.

  She could do it. She could anything she had to, as long as she could be with Hehaka Luta.

  * * * * *

  “Do you think she’ll be all right?” Kelsey asked.

  Reese shrugged. “I reckon that’s up to her.” He drew Kelsey closer, aware, as always, of time passing. Each day brought them closer to parting. They would have to talk about it soon, but not now. If she had decided to go back to her own time, he was in no itching hurry to find out about it.