Broken Promise

by Theresa Scott

  He glanced around at the lonely, windy landscape. Not a single animal had come down to drink at the water hole he had been hiding near. He knew he was in the hunting territory of the male lion and his mate, but since the day the Jaguar People had taken over the caves, the lions had not shown themselves. Perhaps they had found other hunting territory. Falcon hoped so. That would explain the successful hunting the Jaguars had enjoyed. No lions for competition.

  If Star was just like Tula, mused Falcon, then he faced a miserable life. And had he not already been through more misery than most men? He had endured the loss of wife to another man and the loss of his child to death. What more could a man put up with?

  He stared at the barren landscape again, willing an antelope, a deer, anything to appear so that he could hunt it and kill it and relieve the feelings building inside him. Anything was better than this terrible brooding.

  But as so often happened, Falcon did not get what he wanted. If there had been a Great Spirit, he would have shaken his fist and screamed his anger at Him. But there was none. None!

  The cold wind took its toll on him. His limbs were chilled. Night was coming on. The other hunters would probably have returned to the caves. What was it that pinned him to this barren, windswept spot waiting for deer? Nothing but fear, he decided, getting to his feet. Fear of his own wife.

  Time to hunt down that fear and vanquish it.

  When he reached the cave, a comforting sight greeted him. The fire burned with welcoming flames; the smell of roasting vegetables wafted through the air. His woman, Star, sat beside the fire, the lovely, angular planes of her face lit by the orange flames as she bent over her sewing. Her long black hair draped her shoulders and he saw the calmness settled on her face.

  Behind her he could see their possessions laid out neatly; the baskets, the spears, the elk-hide bed. Wherever she went, she made a home, he thought. And she had made a home of the cave.

  Suddenly a wave of fear coursed through him. She was a woman; she was just like Tula! She would make a home and then destroy it, destroy every part of it and him until nothing was left but ashes and hate. The thought flashed through his mind like a bird's wing seen out of the corner of his eye that if he destroyed everything now, destroyed this home, then he would be safe.

  "What have you done?" he roared.

  She looked up, startled. He threw down his spear and kicked dirt over the jumping flames. He must put out the fire that falsely promised home and hearth and food and love.

  "What?" Star lifted her arms to protect her face as dirt flew past her.

  As soon as the fire smoldered, stinking, under the dirt, Falcon ran to the elk hide. He yanked out his obsidian knife from its place at his waist and grabbed up the elk hide. With several swift strokes of the knife, he cut through the hide, leaving it in tatters.

  "What are you doing?" screamed Star. He turned and saw she had both hands pressed to her cheeks, her mouth open, a horrified look on her face.

  He ignored her and grabbed up the baskets, spilling their contents. Berries and roots rolled everywhere and he kicked dirt over them. He tried to pull the baskets apart with his bare hands but they were too tough, so he slashed at them with his knife. He reached for the white deerskin dress that had spilled from the basket and raised his knife to slash it to tatters, too, but Star snatched the garment out of his reach. She ran out of the cave.

  He saw a blur of white on the dark floor and slashed up the white moccasins. In a fury of rage, he picked up a tanned fur and threw it at the cave wall with all his might. It slid to the ground in a crumpled heap. He picked up a second fur and did the same. Then he ran over and stomped on the furs, pounding them with his feet, his teeth gritted in rage. He fell to his knees and used his knife to make deep, jagged cuts through the furs. Then he jumped to his feet.

  She will not do this to me! went through his brain over and over. She will not lull me to sleep with gentle ways and then turn on me and destroy me!

  "I will destroy everything! Nothing will be left for her to hurt me with!" he howled at the cave roof.

  He whipped around, chest heaving, searching for anything he might have missed. Baskets, elk hide, fire, all destroyed!

  He seized his two spears leaning against the wall and tried to break the wooden shafts. He pounded them against the rock wall, he tried breaking them with his knee, but they were too strong. He threw them on the ground in disgust. Grabbing up Star's digging stick, he threw it out of the cave's entrance.

  A black bowl caught his eye. The old mortar and pestle, passed down from his mother, quickly followed the digging stick as he threw it out of the cave's mouth. He heard the crashing sounds as they rolled down the gravel slope below the caves.

  His breath coming in gasps, he glanced around. Destroyed! Everything must be destroyed!

  Everything was. Where before there had been falseness: quiet and neatness and contentment, now there was truth: dirt and smoldering wood and tattered rags.

  He had done good work. With a last, guttural cry, he whirled and ran out of the cave.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  The next morning Star stood among the ruins of her cave home and stared about her. He had severed her baskets with his knife and cut up the furs she had worked so long on tanning. He had stomped on the dried berries and scattered dirt over the dried vegetables. Why had he done this? Why? And what were they going to eat when winter arrived?

  Thank the Great Spirit she had been able to spend last night at Sageflower's cave. Though it was crowded with Sageflower's husband's people, still they had made room for her. Star had cried herself to sleep, her sobs muffled in the unfamiliar fur she'd been silently handed by Deer Summoner's grave mother.

  As for Falcon, wherever he was, he had not shown himself. Not last night, not this morning.

  Why had he done this? Why?

  She moaned to herself, wondering what to do now. She stepped over to the ring of rocks. The fire was cold. Should she light it again? Sageflower would give her a light from their hearth fire. Star shivered as a cold wind brushed her. Winter was near. And now she had no food. What was she going to do?

  She had tried to show him there was hope in her heart for them. She had thought she would start with making herself a fine home. That would show him and others that she valued herself. That her life held meaning. That she could make it have meaning. Falcon would see she valued him, too, and he in turn would want to be a part of her life. That was how she had planned it.

  Well, another of her plans dashed. She had tried to make him a fine home, one he would feel proud of and welcome in. She had set out the things they owned and used. She had done all she could to make it a home. And now this.

  Gone. Destroyed. Utterly, utterly useless.

  The wind whipped at her fur now in harsh reminder of the winter that was surely coming. What should she do?

  She wiped away a tear that dribbled down her cheek. Why had he done this? Did he not want her? Want their home?

  She heard a scratching sound behind her and turned. Her heart sank.

  "What a tidy home you have here," sneered Tula.

  Why had she chosen this morning of all times to stop by?

  Tula grinned smugly. When she swung to the side to better observe the destruction of Star's home, Star could see her baby's little round face. He yawned.

  "Falcon never did this while I was married to him."

  Ah, so Tula had heard. Star should have known that word of Falcon's deed would travel swiftly through the Jaguar caves.

  "When he was my husband, we had a fine home. A fine home, indeed."

  Star gritted her teeth.

  Tula sauntered over and halted when she was a handbreadth away. "I would say he does not like you." She looked pleased. She gave a light laugh and sauntered over to where the torn furs lay on the cave floor. A long, jagged cut in one fur gaped obscenely, like an open mouth.

  "I would say he does not like the way you tan furs."

  She kicked at
a broken basket. "Do you think he likes your basket making?" She smiled sweetly, then gave a tinkly laugh. "No, I think he does not."

  Her baby made snuffling sounds as he rooted for a breast. "Go to sleep, little one," she murmured over her shoulder. She shot Star a wide smile. "Such a mess," she murmured and made little clucking sounds.

  Star said nothing. She felt too humiliated. Why did it have to be Tula who saw her at her worst, standing amid the ruins of her home?

  "Well, it has been most pleasant, but I must go."

  Relief swept through Star.

  Tula shuffled over to the cave entrance. The baby on her back was beginning to cry softly. Tula was just about to step outside the cave when she stopped and said, ''Why do you stay here? Go home to your people, Badger dog-girl. No one wants you here. Not even Falcon!" Then she gave a low, delighted laugh and strode away.

  Star began to cry.

  She gave in to her despair, and great tearing sobs ripped from her throat. She sat down and buried her head in her arms. Her whole body shook with the force of her sobs. It was true: she was not wanted. No one here wanted her to stay. Not Falcon, none of them. She sobbed for a long time.

  Suddenly she felt a nudge on her shoulder. Star slowly raised her head.

  Betafor stood looking down at her. "Here." She held out the black mortar bowl. From behind her, hanging on to her dress, peeked one of her little granddaughters. In her tiny hand, she held the pestle.

  Star stared at the bowl in a daze; then slowly she reached for it. She clamped her fingers around the cold, hard stone. The little granddaughter came over and plopped the pestle into the mortar, where it rattled. Then she scurried behind her grandmother once more.

  Betafor glanced around the cave and shook her head. "I do not know why that boy did this."

  Star blinked and it took her several heartbeats to realize Betafor meant Falcon. "I do not know, either." After so much crying, her voice sounded like the croak of a frog.

  Betafor gave her a kindly glance. "What will you do?"

  The little granddaughter, her black eyes shining, peeked out at Star. When she saw Star watching her, she shyly buried her face in the back of her grandmother's leather dress.

  Star shook her head, still dazed. "I do not know."

  Betafor gave her a tiny pat on the shoulder and then, as if afraid she had done too much, quickly withdrew her hand. Star's lips trembled at the loss.

  Betafor shook her head. "Well, I will talk to that boy for you, but I do not know if any good will come of it." She sounded doubtful.

  Without thinking, Star touched Betafor's arm to stay her. "No. Do not. He will not welcome it." She dropped her hand at her own presumption. "Hehe does not like to talk."

  Betafor nodded. "Very well." She glanced around the cave again. "Still, to let him do this"

  Star stared at the dead fire, humiliation washing over her. "I could not stop him."

  "Of course not, child," murmured Betafor. "I did not mean it was your fault. I only meantWell, I suppose I meant that he should give you some explanation."

  "I do not think he will," whispered Star.

  Betafor walked over to where the two spears lay. Her granddaughter clung to her every step like a second shadow. Betafor picked up the spears and leaned them against the wall. She reached for one of the baskets, examined its sorry

  condition, shook her head, and set it back down. She wandered back to Star, her granddaughter still a part of her leg. "Do you wish to come and join us at our fireside?"

  Star shook her head. "No, but thank you for your kindness. II will stay here... ."

  Betafor nodded and reached around and pried her granddaughter off her leg. She took the child's hand and led her toward the cave's mouth.

  As Star watched them leave, she suddenly felt grateful for the other woman's visit. Betafor had come to her when no one else had and she had tried to be kind. "Thank you," she called after them. "Thank you for returning the mortar and pestle."

  Betafor gave a little wave. Then she and her granddaughter disappeared from the entrance. Star heard the crunch of their steps receding on the gravel. She was alone again. "Now what do I do?" she muttered aloud.

  She stared around the cave and shifted to her knees. "Am I going to let this discourage me?" She stared down at the mortar and pestle. Her hand closed over the cold stone handle of the pestle as she thought of Betafor and the little grandchild returning the implements. "No," she said aloud. "I will not let this stop me. And I will not let Tula scare me off. I will rebuild my home."

  She got to her feet and began to pick up the tattered remains of her possessions.

  While she was working, Sageflower stopped by. Deer Summoner was with her and the two worked over the dead fire at the circle of rocks.

  They scraped back the dirt, gathered twigs, and relit the fire. Finally the tiny flames crackled and leaped up, throwing grotesque shadows on the cave walls.

  Star glanced up from where she had gathered up the discarded food. She saw the two and wiped at her face and hair. She had been so lost in her thoughts, wondering how she was going to face the winter, that she had not even noticed their presence. "Sageflower," she said politely, coming over to where the handsome couple stood. "My thanks for your help. And Deer Summoner's also."

  The two nodded. Deer Summoner, as always, looked dignified.

  "II did not expect you to"

  "Hush," said Sageflower. "Of course we would help you."

  "Falcon" Oh, how it hurt to say his name. Did he not want her? "Falcon" She could not get the words out.

  Sageflower touched Star's arm. "We know Falcon did this. But we do not know why. It is a serious thing he has done. Do you have any food left for winter?"

  Star shook her head. Deer Summoner and Sageflower regarded her solemnly. Star flushed under their pity-filled glances. "II must get back to cleaning and repairing," she murmured. "Thank you for your help with the fire."

  After they left, she shook her head, amazed. To have the Jaguar People pity her was worse than to have them dislike her.

  She went out and broke a pine branch from a scraggly tree that grew in the shelter of a big rock near the caves. She brought the branch back to her home and used it to sweep the floor clean.

  While she was sweeping, Elk Knees stopped by. She carried a bowl of hot venison stew. "I brought it for you," she said shyly.

  Star set the stone bowl aside. "I do not feel hungry," she confessed.

  Elk Knees glanced around the cave. "Why did he do this?"

  Star shrugged. "I know not."

  Elk Knees fidgeted and shifted from one foot to the other. Finally she blurted, "I have come to tell you that I was wrong."

  "Wrong? About what?"

  Elk Knees leaned closer. "You were correct. Lying with a man can be very wonderful!" Then she whirled and dashed out of the cave.

  Puzzled, Star pondered her friend's words. Then she chuckled to herself. Elk Knees and Horn were enjoying their time in the bedrobes!

  Feeling better, Star nibbled at the venison stew. Its delicious taste nourished her body and soul. The stew finished, she rose and, humming to herself, examined the baskets. They could not be mended. But the two furs and the elkhide could be repaired with careful stitching, she thought. She took some hope from that.

  She had to throw out most of the food, but a few roots had remained in one basket and she managed to brush the dirt off a handful of dried berries. It was not much, but it was food.

  She glanced out the cave entrance and saw the sky was still light. There was still enough time left in the day to go and dig roots.

  She walked out of the cave and was climbing down the gravelly slope when she spotted her digging stick. She clambered across the gravel and retrieved it. Ah, all was not lost. She could work, and she could rebuild her home. With a little smile on her lips, she set out with her digging stick to find more roots.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Falcon took two steps into the cave and stopped as s
uddenly as though he had come up against a rock wall. Everything looked just as it had been before he had destroyed it to save himself.

  Aghast, he surveyed the cave. The elk hide was in the same place. Set out on a freshly woven mat were his mother's mortar and pestle, a few bone tools, and two awls. He was relieved to see there were no baskets, but then he spotted the two furs. No sign of his knife's slashes showed on the hides. Worse, there were now two great bunches of aromatic herbs hanging from a new pole set in the dirt of the cave floor.

  And beside the flickering fire sat Star, calmly weaving a basket.

  She had restored everything, he saw. It was as if he had done nothing to save himself.

  Despair settled over him like a thick winter cloak.

  When she looked up at him, he wanted to run out of the cave. "Are you going to destroy this, too?" she asked, and he wanted to cringe at the calmness in her voice. She did not understand. She did not understand anything!

  "Why did you not leave?"

  "Did you want me to?"

  No! he wanted to say. He could not meet her eyes, so he squinted through the smoke at the hanging herbs. He pointed at them with his spear. "What are those for?"

  "To make our home smell pleasant."

  She understood nothing! "We have no home."

  She shrugged. "Perhaps you do not. But I do."

  He took a step forward. He swung his spear to include all the cave. "This is not to be a home. Do you understand?"

  "No."

  He could see by her defiant eyes that indeed she did not. "What must I do to make you understand?" he mused aloud.

  She set aside the partially woven basket and got to her feet. She walked around the fire until she stood in front of him. He could smell her, smell the scent of smoke and herbs that drifted to him from her skin, her hair. He leaned closer, closing his eyes and inhaling her scent. Ah, she smelled so good.

  "What is it you want me to understand?"

  He opened his eyes and stared into hers. She watched him, and he felt a quiver of pain at her wariness. He took a breath. What could he say without telling her of all the pain he carried inside?