White Dove

by Susan Edwards

  Throughout the morning, their trainers would stop and point to tracks. Each boy, including Jeremy, was expected to identify and track that animal. Twice Jeremy tried. Twice he failed. But on his third time, he managed to track a fox to a hole dug out beneath a fallen, rotting tree trunk. Silently, he and the boys hunkered down to wait and watch for the fox to emerge.

  One of the hardest things to do, Jeremy found, was remain still. No movement at all for sometimes an hour was required. Even his breathing had to be slowed, which was nearly impossible. Bugs crawled over his arms, urging him to flick the insects and scratch his skin. Without moving his head, he noted how still the other boys were and tried to block out his discomfort.

  If a ten-year-old could sit still, then so could he. He hoped. After what seemed like hours, the fox stuck her head out. She sniffed, waited, ducked back inside, then repeated her actions three times before stepping out. Behind her, three kits peeked out from behind their mother. At her sharp yip, they ran back into their den.

  Tawasuota stood, giving Jeremy a nod of approval, then they were off, running once more. Half a day had passed, and they’d run nearly the entire time. Tired, his muscles aching, Jeremy reminded himself over and over why he was doing this. With each pounding step, his legs burned, but still he pushed onward, determination etching deep lines along the sides of his mouth. Sweat dripped down the sides of his face and glistened from his body.

  Think of the Crow, he commanded himself, bringing to mind his goal of becoming a full member of his tribe. Two days ago, a raiding party had made off with half a dozen horses from the herd. The young brave guarding them had been knocked unconscious before he could sound a warning. Striking Thunder had organized a party to go after them. Jeremy had wanted to go, but only the best were chosen. They’d returned empty-handed, but as they knew which tribe had been responsible, it was just a matter of time before the Lakota retaliated.

  And when they did, Jeremy planned to be among them. Only then would he know he’d succeeded in becoming a warrior. Until then, he’d train and train hard. Unlike the boys he ran alongside, his training was much more intense. Theirs was leisurely, simply a part of their everyday life. One boy, the oldest at ten, raced past Jeremy and cut nimbly across him. “Ha! Hunkuya Mato!”

  The triumphant shout made Jeremy forget the pain in his side and the ache in his lungs. He pulled forth a burst of speed and caught up with his youthful tormentor. “Bad enough they sneak up on me in the forest, and can outshoot me with a bow, but I’ll be damned if they outrun me,” he puffed, amazed that his fellow students didn’t seem the least bit winded.

  Hell, if they didn’t stop soon, he’d fall flat on his face. Feet flew over the forest floor. Intent on beating the young boy who’d taunted him, Jeremy didn’t see the root. Next thing he knew, he was flying through the air.

  “Ah, sh—” He hit the ground and somersaulted. The composted forest floor didn’t soften his landing much. He grunted when a rock dug into his shoulder. On his back, dazed, he stared up at the sun peeking between two tall trees. Everything swam in and out of focus and the noise of the boys faded into a loud buzz.

  Overhead, high in a tree, an owl peered down at him. Snowy-white feathers spotted with brown blurred as the bird flew down toward him. To his amazement, when it landed, it changed shape, became a young woman wearing a dress of soft, white feathers. Her golden eyes searched his as she stood over him.

  “What the hell?” he murmured. “Am I dreaming?”

  “Hear me, White Man.” She lifted her hands out to the side. “There is much for you to learn. Learn well, for you are needed.” She lowered her arms. “Fulfill your destiny.” With that, the woman leaped into the air and soared back up into the tree tops, once more an owl.

  Hands shaking, Jeremy held his head and sat up. He glanced around, saw the worried faces of the boys and the older warriors. He must have knocked himself out, given himself an hallucination.

  “Toniktuka hwo?”

  “Matanyan yelo,” he replied, reassuring his Lakota foster father that he was fine. Remembering the beautiful woman of his strange and unsettling dream, he rubbed the back of his head. That was some knock to the noggin, he thought.

  He glanced up into the trees and nearly choked when he saw the same owl staring down at him. Just like in his dream. Except of course it didn’t fly down and change into a woman. Of course it wouldn’t, he thought. Standing, he convinced himself that it had all been a trick of his mind. He put it from his mind when his father motioned toward the village, silently asking if he needed to return.

  As if drawn against his will, Jeremy sought the owl. Fulfill your destiny. You are needed. The words circled in his head. “Hiya.” He motioned for the training to continue and picked up pace, pushing himself until pain again stabbed him in his side, his legs felt rubbery. He listened to his heartbeat to block out the pain, used the words of the owl to give him the strength to keep going.

  It was silly, but he was unable to explain the strange feeling that the owl had truly spoken to him. Could it be true? Was he truly needed?

  He had nothing to lose by believing that. Just in case, he planned to be ready.

  * * *

  Dove returned from her hunt with a large antelope slung over the back of her horse. She’d killed the beast purposely, having heard how Jeremy had spooked the herd the day before. She made sure to pass him in order to give him one of her superior grins. To her surprise, he only saluted and turned back to the laughing men and boys surrounding him.

  Stopping, she frowned. He didn’t seem upset. He hadn’t grimaced, sulked, frowned or acted in any disapproving manner. Nor had he ignored her silent taunt. Instead, he’d acted as though pleased with her accomplishment; his look had seemed to be one of congratulations.

  Dropping the animal near Jessie and Sofia’s tipi so her mother wouldn’t see and overexert herself by trying to take care of it, she released her horse to go back to the herd, then paced. A month ago, Jeremy would not have let her unspoken taunts go unchallenged. More and more, it seemed as though Jeremy was truly changing.

  So what was the problem? She should be pleased, but in truth, she wasn’t sure she liked this change. She missed their daily banter. Missed talking to Jeremy, arguing with him, being with him. She even missed his childish games, but most of all, she missed the way he kept her on her toes. Life around Jeremy was never dull.

  Before she’d met him, she’d been satisfied with her life; today she was not. Something was missing, and she feared it was the man himself. No one had ever left her so confused and restless. And since arriving back in their homeland, they hadn’t done much more than greet one another in passing. As his training now fell to his father, their nightly sessions had ceased. She should be happy. She hadn’t wanted the job of becoming his teacher, but she missed their time together.

  Now she waited for him to court her, to make an effort to be alone with her. She’d given him plenty of opportunity to do so, but he’d stayed away. Had he forgotten about her in his quest to become a warrior? Did he no longer want her?

  Furious with her overwrought emotions where Jeremy was concerned, White Dove glared at him. He stood with several other warriors, talking and laughing. That bothered her even more. Here she was, struggling with her need for him and her duty to her people—and marrying a great warrior was something she had to do—yet all she wanted was for Jeremy to take her in his arms and kiss her. Now that was truly pathetic. She didn’t need anyone, relied only on herself, and that would never change. Not for him or any other warrior.

  Noticing that the warriors were forming a large circle, and others were joining in, she turned to her sister-in-law. This was just what she needed to take her mind off Jeremy, kisses, and the future. “Another fight. Are you coming to watch?” Her voice rose with excitement.

  Jessie shuddered. “No. I can’t bear to watch my brother ge
t hurt.”

  Despite her confused state of mind and heart, Dove felt proud of Jeremy. “He learns quickly and is much better with his knife. Today he might even win.” Each afternoon, a warrior challenged Jeremy. He’d mastered unarmed combat and was now learning to fight with a knife Lakota-style.

  “That’s quite all right. You go. I’ll start taking care of the antelope.”

  Dove hurried off. Her friend, Tanagila, beckoned her over and moved aside to make room for her. “Long Feather has challenged him.”

  Dove took her place as, in the center of the circle, Jeremy and Long Feather faced one another. She bit her lip. Long Feather was shorter than Jeremy, but much more muscular. He was also a trained warrior who’d counted coup many times, had many scalps to prove his courage and bravery.

  Holding her breath, Dove watched Jeremy take up his stance of a half crouch, holding his knife in his right hand as the two combatants circled each other. Then, without warning, Long Feather lunged. Jeremy jumped to the side, but not fast enough to avoid a stinging cut on his forearm. Dove winced at the line of blood forming there.

  She turned her attention to Long Feather and after a couple of moves, saw the slight bunching of his thighs and the shifting of his eyes before he struck. Each time he struck, she wanted to call out to Jeremy and warn him, but she didn’t. After several shallow cuts to his forearms, and one to his thigh—none deep enough to wound, but painful enough to teach—Jeremy finally successfully eluded the sharp tip of Long Feather’s blade. To Dove’s surprise and delight, as he had yet to best a warrior using a knife, he looked as though he’d spotted the way to best Long Feather. Again, he avoided the sting of the other man’s knife. The tables turned as Jeremy went on the attack.

  An hour later, bathed in sweat, coated with dried blood and dust from rolling on the ground to avoid his foe’s blade, Jeremy pinned his opponent to the ground and held the point of his knife to Long Feather’s neck.

  Dove’s cheers rang with the rest. She hugged Tanagila. “He did it!” She laughed, eager to go tell Jessie and Sofia. Slowly but surely, he was becoming one of them. Torn, she found herself again praying that he’d succeed. She refused to examine why.

  Long Feather rolled to his feet and clasped Jeremy on shoulder. “Kola.” Friend.

  A harsh shout from across the circle wiped the smile from her face. Waho stepped forward holding two long, thick poles. “Let the white man fight the woman he seeks for wife. Has she not taken on each warrior in this tribe in her ‘quest for her great warrior’? The white man seeks to win her for mate. Let her see for herself that he is not a true suitor.” He glanced across the ring at Dove. “Unless she is afraid to test her skills against his, unless she is afraid of being beaten by a white man.”

  Waho’s bold challenge brought gasps then silence to the gathered Sioux. Dove held her breath, feeling hot and cold at the same time. She didn’t want to openly fight Jeremy; she’d have to do her best to defeat him and she knew he hadn’t been trained with the poles yet. That meant her choices were to let him win and lose her pride, or defeat him, and risk his. She glanced at Jeremy and held her breath.

  Jeremy glanced around then faced her, as if he spoke for her alone. “Does a man challenge the woman he loves to a fight, or does he wait for the moonlight so he can prove his love with gentle words and tender kisses?” He held out his arms with blood still oozing from several cuts and spoke in Lakota.

  “I learn the way of the Sioux to protect her. I endure pain to prove my courage. I will not fight her. In this way, I prove my love. It bothers me not that she is a warrior-woman. She is destined to walk at her mate’s side, not behind him.”

  Uncaring of his audience, he walked over to White Dove and took her hand in his. “One day I will once again ask you to walk by my side as wife. But not until I have become a true warrior.” He spoke in a combination of English and Lakota and those around Dove who understood translated his words for those who hadn’t.

  Cheers and hoots of laughter and lusty suggestions made her warm all over. Joy filled her heart that she hadn’t been forced into proving to either of them that she was by far the more skillful fighter. They both knew she could defeat Jeremy. Again, his actions matched his words—loving and wise. Hope built inside her but she crushed it. “Yes, White Man. You have much to learn,” she said. She tried to make her words harsh to hide her own emotions, but her voice came out a soft whisper.

  Waho ended the tender moment by tossing his staves to the ground in disgust. Jeremy returned to the center of the circle, picked up the weapons and glanced around, his gaze lingering on Dove. He handed one rod to Speaks With Truth. “Teach me,” he said then. He’d deliberately chosen one of Waho’s closest friends.

  Once more, quiet fell as several other warriors came forward to demonstrate the techniques. Then Jeremy faced Speaks With Truth and learned the hard way, with warriors shouting advice. At the end of the session, he sported many bruises, but he’d mastered the basics. Dove couldn’t help feeling true pride for him as she walked away.

  * * *

  Two hours after his fight, Jeremy returned to his tipi. He took advantage of the quiet time to sit before the cookfire outside, leaning back against the backboard Miniyata had made him. Glancing at the bleeding cuts on his arm, he grimaced, yet pride numbed the pain. He’d won today!

  Miniyata knelt before him, holding out a bowl. No matter the time of day, she always had something prepared for him to eat.

  He took the mixture of spiced meat and smiled. “Thank you, inawaye kin,” he said, using halting Lakota. She smiled at his use of the words my mother. They’d quickly adopted each other. Jeremy had never realized how much he’d missed having a mother, and he found he thoroughly enjoyed having one now—even though he was a man of twenty-two. Surprisingly, as much as he enjoyed being taken care of, what he’d really come to value was seeing Miniyata’s shy smile and the happiness in her eyes when he took the time to speak to her or do small things to make her life easier. Starved for a son’s love, she didn’t try to keep her distance from him.

  Their relationship had begun during his first evening with her and her husband. Thinking he needed to show his appreciation for their taking him in, he’d given her one of his jars of honey and a length of brown trade cloth he’d gotten from Jessie. Her face had lit up. The next day, Tawasuota had donned a new breechclout and a few days later Miniyata had presented him with a bone backrest. It made him feel good to see that some of the sadness had left her eyes.

  He popped a chunk of meat into his mouth and chewed. “It is good,” he said. The pleased twinkle in her eyes made him feel good. Sometimes he felt guilty, but knew somehow that his own mother would have loved this. All of it. It was from her that he and his sister had gotten their thirst for adventure.

  After he finished eating, he sat and let his mother tend to his wounds. Then he decided to put his free time to good use by pulling out his bundle of arrow shafts. He’d scraped the bark off and sorted them according to spine by bending them. The ones that bent the same way were tied together.

  Sitting cross-legged, he nocked the ends in the manner of the Lakota, and scored the length of the shaft to keep the arrow straight and cause good spirit. Next came the wild turkey feathers he’d received in trade for one of his shirts. He’d already sorted them into left and right piles, stripped them and left them soaking in water overnight. Stripping feathers was the hard part. If the vane hung up at any point and he wasn’t careful, it tore. Last night, he’d wasted four feathers.

  By the time his father arrived, he had six arrows complete. Tawasuota stooped and picked up the missiles to examine them. Over the last week, his father had rejected all but three of his attempts, making Jeremy feel inferior. Since then, he’d slowed down and worked carefully. Now came the test. Would they pass the inspection or join the others in the scrap pile?

  To his surprise and pl
easure, Tawasuota nodded and handed them back instead of breaking them in two. Jeremy swelled with pleasure. He now had a quiver full of arrows. After spending a few minutes talking to his adoptive father, he left to take the bear cubs down to the stream. As he walked, he thought of his day and realized that he’d finally found a place where he belonged.

  Chapter Ten

  After helping Jessie distribute the antelope meat, Dove entered her tipi to see if her mother needed help. Seeing her father talking to her mother, she hesitated. Golden Eagle stood, glanced at her, then pulled down his bow. “I am going to hunt,” he said, then stared at her, a question in his eyes.

  Dove fetched an empty water pouch and addressed her mother. “I will gather water and wood for the evening meal.” She didn’t flinch when her father stormed out, nor did she dare glance at her mother.

  Hoping to get out without words, she headed for the door.

  “Your father only does what he thinks best, daughter.”

  Her mother’s troubled voice quieted. Sighing, Dove faced the woman who’d given birth to her. “It’s not fair. My brothers and sister all chose their mates. It should be the same for me. He has no right to do this to me.”

  White Wind lifted a brow. “As your father, it is his right to see you settled, protected.”

  Dove scowled. “But not happy? He would see me wed to Waho.”

  “Then choose another.” Staring into her daughter’s eyes, White Wind put her hand on Dove’s shoulder. “It is not good for there to be anger and resentment. I think soon you will chose your mate and your father will not have to do it. He misses his youngest.”

  Dove missed her father, too. Missed the hunts, the easy camaraderie, the strong bond that had been there from the first moment he’d held her in his arms. But pride kept her from him, from giving in. She might very well choose Jeremy, but it wouldn’t be because of her father’s orders. When it happened, it would only be because she believed he was the one for her.