Buffalo Summer

by Nadia Nichols

  Caleb’s heart leaped as he whirled, looking into the grandstand. He saw Pony waving to them and grinned ear to ear, immediately forgetting that he was chaperoning five boys. He climbed the steps three at a time, oblivious to the curious onlookers as he reached her and came to an abrupt halt, wanting to gather her into his arms but instead reaching out to grasp her hands. “It’s good to see you. It’s been a long week,” he said.

  She was smiling, radiant, squeezing his hands as tightly as he held hers. “Have the boys behaved?”

  “They’ve been working hard,” Caleb said. “Can you spend some time with us? When do you dance?”

  “Not for another two hours. We can get something to eat. Maybe watch some of the rodeo if you want.”

  Caleb turned to the boys. “Rodeo?” he said.

  They all nodded, and he said, “Okay, go ahead. We’ll meet back here in two hours.”

  Within moments they had vanished and Caleb grinned, feasting his eyes. “Was I too obvious?”

  She laughed. “I’ve missed you.”

  He didn’t care who was watching. He drew her into his arms and bent his head over hers. “I thought I’d die of loneliness,” he murmured into the sweetness of her hair.

  “Me, too.”

  “Really?” He pulled back to look at her, his heart hammering.

  “I wanted to call, to see how things were going. I almost did. But then I thought, what would I say?”

  Caleb set her at arm’s length and shook his head with exasperation. “Well, you might have started with hello and gone from there. That’s how most conversations begin. Let’s go for a walk and see if we can’t start one in person.”

  Hand in hand they wandered through the fairgrounds. They bought hot dogs and sodas and ate and drank as they walked past clusters of tepees, always moving away from the noise and the crowd. Finally they found a path that led along the river’s edge. “I thought you’d be wearing your grandmother’s elk-skin dress,” he said.

  “I have to change into it soon. It’s too hot to wear all the time, and it’s very heavy.”

  He stopped abruptly and turned to face her. He took her hand in both of his and before he could lose heart he spoke the words that had been running through his head for the past five days. Hell, for the past summer. “I love you, Pony. I want to marry you. I know I’m not Indian. I didn’t grow up in your world, I’ll never be a part of your culture, and I can’t give you full-blood babies, but Pony, I’ll cherish you till the day I die. How we feel about each other has to mean something.”

  Her voice trembled when she said, “It does. It means a great deal. But Caleb, there’s something else you need to know.” She led him to the edge of the river and they sat together on the trunk of an old cottonwood tree that the floodwaters had knocked down in past years. “When I told you that our people would one day be no more because of all the mixed marriages, I was not telling you that you and I could never…” She looked at him. “You took that statement out of context.”

  He gazed at her, puzzled. “I don’t understand.”

  “I am unable to bear children. Full-blooded or mixed-blood. I cannot have a child.”

  Caleb digested this newest twist with a deepening frown. “Does Pete know that?”

  She nodded her head. “Yes.”

  “Is that why he wouldn’t marry you?”

  “Marry me?” Pony stared at him, clearly astonished. “Pete is my friend. The only reason he knows that I cannot have children is because he was my boss that summer, and when I didn’t show up to work one morning he came to my place to make sure I was okay. But I wasn’t. I was sick—”

  Her words choked off, and she looked away, blinking rapidly.

  “Pony, you don’t have to explain anything to me. What happened in your past doesn’t matter.”

  “Yes, it does,” she said. “It matters very much, and you need to know all of it.” She composed herself, before continuing slowly. Her voice was taut with emotion, as she repeated what she had told Jessie.

  Caleb listened without interrupting as she told of that summer night seven years ago. She spared no details, made no excuses and blamed herself completely for everything that had happened. He felt a white hot sure of anger and outrage when she told him about the rape. He felt his heart twist painfully when she told him about the pregnancy and the botched abortion. He felt that he understood, finally, the terrible burden of guilt she had carried all these years, the dark secret only she and Pete had shared, and the emptiness of knowing she could never bear a child of her own.

  As she spoke, he noticed her hands unclench and her body relax. It was as if she was letting go of all the demons that had tormented her for so long.

  “So you see,” she concluded, her voice steady and her gaze direct. “I’m not the person you think I am. Not the person you fell in love with.”

  “Oh, Pony,” Caleb said, tenderly brushing her hair back from her forehead. “You’re so wrong. The person I’m in love with is sitting right here beside me. You’re one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever known. You did nothing wrong. You were victimized, and I’m sorry for that. But you can’t carry that guilt with you any longer. You can’t let one awful night ruin the rest of your life. Too many people depend on you. Where would those boys be without you? And what about me?” Caleb could feel her trembling as she stared at him. He shored up his courage. “Have you ever been in love with Pete?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Do you love me?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  “Then marry me.”

  Her dark eyes flooded. “Don’t you understand? I can’t give you children!”

  “What the hell are you talking about? I’m fathering five of your boys right now!”

  “It’s not the same. A man wants his own sons.”

  Caleb made a noise of frustration deep in his throat. He bent closer, his hands tightening on her shoulders. “Listen to me, dammit! The only thing I want is you. You’re the most important thing in my life. I’m not asking you to give up your teaching career or your identity or your traditions or your culture, and I’m not asking you to bear me a bunch of babies to appease my male ego. I’m asking you to be my partner. Marry me, Pony. We could have a good life together on the ranch. We could start a school there, a good school that would make a big difference in a lot of kids’ lives. And if you want babies, little ones, we can adopt as many as you like. I love kids and I think we’d make damn good parents. There are lots of children out there who need good parents.”

  She stared at him and her dark eyes flooded with tears again, just before she pulled away from him and stood. “I have to change for the dancing,” she said, and, whirling like a frightened deer, she fled back down the path.

  He watched her go and wondered bleakly if he could survive a future without her.

  THE BOYS FOUND HIM in the grandstand, elbows on his knees, slumped over in misery. They sat down on either side of him without speaking. For a long while nothing was said, and then Martin shifted as if he was trying to find a softer spot on the wooden bleacher. “I think she’ll win again this year.”

  “No, she won’t,” Jimmy said. “She hasn’t danced enough. If you don’t dance every dance, the judges don’t like it.”

  “If she only danced once, it would be enough to prove who is best,” Roon said.

  “Maybe so, but the judges judge,” Jimmy said, “not the audience.”

  The grandstand filled up. Eight Crow men in traditional dress walked out to the drum and sat around it. The emcee tapped the microphone, and the boom of his voice filled the arena.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the ladies’ dancing competition. We’re starting the evening off with the buckskin dance and here come our contestants. For those of you in the audience who are new to powwows, the ladies’ buckskin dance is sometimes referred to as women’s traditional dance. It’s one of the oldest and most beautiful of the women�
��s dances. This is a very sophisticated dance. You will notice that the dancers’ movements are tall, straight and graceful, each step gliding on air, each movement like the wind blowing through a willow. Watch how their fringe sways when this dance begins….

  “And folks, notice how beautifully these ladies are dressed….”

  “Can you see her?” Caleb said.

  “No. Not yet. Don’t worry. Just watch the emcee and the judges,” Jimmy said. “They will all be looking at her.”

  The drum started. The strong singing of the eight men rose over the beat in rippling crescendos, the Head Singer leading in a trebling falsetto, drawing the second singer and chorus in behind him as they beat the drum to a rapid, powerful cadence. Caleb was swept up in the throbbing rhythm, the sound of the song, the energy that moved the dancers. They were beautiful, these women dancing in their brightly colored fringed dresses. Their movements were the epitome of grace. They became the soughing of the wind, the rushing of the waters, the bending of tall grass, the movement of cloud formations over the land.

  And then he felt a peculiar thump in his chest and his breath caught.

  There she was.

  Pony.

  Alone in an arena filled with dancers. Alone, moving in a realm apart from the others, gathering the eyes of everyone who watched because of her ethereal beauty and grace. It was not the flash of her dress that caught the eye, for her dress was simple and faded with age, decorated with narrow strips of red trade felt and blue cloth taken from some nameless soldier’s uniform. Old glass trade beads and intricate quill work adorned the cape, and its fringe was only half the length of the more modern dresses. The dress that she wore was beautiful, but the spirit that moved within her gave her a kind of grace that transcended that of any mortal being.

  Time stood still as Pony danced to the drum.

  “Oo-je-en-a-he-ha!” he heard behind him, and turned to look into the face of an elder. The old man was watching her dance, transfixed. “Oo-je-en-a-heha!” he said again, and two tears trickled slowly down his wrinkled cheeks.

  Caleb faced the arena and she was gone, lost in the swirl of movement below. The drum gave five beats increasing in strength and then the song ended. Applause and cheers filled the air. The emcee’s voice droned, “Beautiful, ladies! That was the buckskin dance, folks, and the ladies themselves have requested that the next dance be a two-step. Now, for those of you gents who aren’t up to speed out there, if the lady asks you to dance the two-step and you refuse, you owe her ten dollars. Got that? Ten bucks! So, ladies, find your partners and we’ll have us a little fun tonight!”

  Caleb stood with a rush of alarm. What the hell? No one told him about anything like this!

  “Better get down there, quick,” Jimmy said. “Before she asks someone else.”

  He didn’t need to be prodded. Within seconds he was threading between the dancers’ benches, heading to the arena and searching for Pony. How would he ever find her? There were so many people! The drum began again and he turned in a circle, searching desperately. He felt a hand tug at his sleeve and looked down at a woman bedecked in one of the modern buckskin dresses, the fringe on the brightly beaded cape swinging well below her knees. She smiled shyly and awaited his response.

  He froze, not wanting to offend but needing to find the woman he loved. And then over her shoulder he spotted Pony, moving through the crowd toward him. His fingers dug frantically for his wallet, and he peeled off a fifty-dollar bill. “I’m sorry, but I promised this dance to someone else.”

  Pony stepped into his arms as if she belonged there, but his initial surge of gladness gave over to anxiety as he listened to the rhythm of the drum and watched the other dancers begin to move. “I thought the announcer said this was a two-step,” he said, faltering.

  “It is,” she replied with a soft laugh. “But it’s an Indian two-step. Don’t worry. It’s easy. Just keep the rhythm of the drum and watch how the others move. It’s the only intertribal dance where we can touch one another.”

  After a few moments he relaxed and glanced around, overwhelmed by the sight of all the Indian couples in their finest regalia surrounding him, surrounding the drum, dancing. He was the only non-Indian in the arena. The experience was at once intimidating and exhilarating. The rhythm of the drum became the pounding of his heart and he felt light-headed and young, as if he could dance forever with this beautiful woman in his arms.

  “Have you been thinking about us?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Good thoughts?”

  Her dark eyes smiled up at him. “I’ve been thinking about our wedding ceremony. How it should be. White or Indian?”

  The Indian two-step wasn’t a close dance but Caleb didn’t care. His heart swelled with joy as he pulled Pony into a passionate embrace and growled, “Hell, woman, if we’re going to be dancing the two-step in both worlds, then we’d best get married both ways, just to be safe.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  STEVEN YOUNG BEAR was just taking his first sip of morning coffee when he heard a knock on his door. He was surprised to find Caleb McCutcheon standing on his step.

  “I went to Crow Fair yesterday with the boys to watch Pony dance,” Caleb said, following Steven into the kitchen and accepting a cup of coffee. “She won her competition.”

  Steven nodded calmly. “She always does.” He waited, studying the older man’s face and feeling a quiet gladness build within.

  “She’s a beautiful dancer, your sister. A beautiful woman.”

  “Yes. It’s kind of hard to believe we’re related.”

  There was an awkward pause and then Caleb said, “Since your father’s dead, I thought it would be best if I asked you.”

  Steven nodded again. “Okay.”

  “May I have your sister’s hand in marriage?”

  Caleb’s expression was so painfully earnest that it was all Steven could do to keep a smile from ruining his stony expression. He let a long painful moment slide by and then frowned thoughtfully as he folded his arms across his chest. “How many ponies are you willing to give for her?” he said.

  “However many it takes.”

  “How many do you figure she’s worth?”

  “A whole lot more than I have. All of the horses at the ranch are Jessie’s except for one injured bucking horse. But I have buffalo. A lot of buffalo. And I can get more.”

  Steven grunted and deepened his frown. “I don’t know. Pony can be difficult. She could make life hard for you. She’s a traditionalist, borderline radical, really. You’d be marrying into the tribe and all of its politics.”

  “We talked all night long about that.”

  “Are you still thinking about creating a school at the ranch?”

  “Yes. She’ll be the first full-time teacher.”

  “When were you planning this marriage?”

  “We figured we’d wait until a month or so after Guthrie and Jessie’s wedding.”

  Steven grunted again. “Good,” he said. “Two weddings in one month is more than I could dress up for.” He reached out to shake Caleb’s hand and let a broad smile reveal his true feelings. “Does Pony know what you plan to give Guthrie and Jessie for a wedding present?”

  “She loved the idea. She said it would make us all like one family.”

  Steven stood in the open doorway for a long time after Caleb had left, happy for his sister and Caleb McCutcheon, and wondering if he would ever find the same grace that they had. Wondering if he would ever find a woman who would chase the loneliness from his heart and guide him down that shining path to happiness.

  BADGER AND CHARLIE were sitting on the porch when Caleb pulled up in the Suburban. It was 10:00 a.m. and the day was heating up to be a real scorcher. Guthrie and Roon had just finished doctoring a horse with a cut on its flank, and the boys had already decided to hit the swimming hole. Pony was inside working on the books, while Ramalda was making the kitchen hotter than it had any right to be in the month of August.r />
  “Look at him!” Badger said as they watched Caleb get out of the vehicle. “See that? He’s strutting!”

  Charlie’s eyes narrowed, and he nodded. “He’s all puffed up like a partridge in springtime, no doubt.”

  “They got home late last night from Crow Fair. Way past midnight,” Badger muttered in an aside, shifting the tobacco in his cheek as Caleb climbed the steps. “Mornin’, boss,” he said. “We missed you at breakfast.”

  “Yes, you did,” Caleb agreed. “I had to go see someone.” He ducked into the kitchen. “Pony? Could you please come out here for minute? Ramalda, you, too.” He waited until Guthrie and Roon had gained the porch and then he reached out and drew Pony close. He waited a few moments, unable to suppress the broad grin that lit his face. “We have an announcement to make. Pony and I are getting married.”

  Roon looked at both of them, still holding the towel he was drying his hands with. “Does this mean we don’t have to leave?” Pony smiled and nodded, and the towel dropped from his hands. “I better go tell the rest of them,” he said, thundering down the porch steps and sprinting toward the creek.

  “Well now, I guess congratulations are in order, but it ain’t much of a surprise, leastwise, to me it ain’t,” Badger said, unfolding his creaking frame from the chair to shake Caleb’s hand. “I could’a told you a long time ago the two of you was destined to get hitched.”

  “I should’ve just asked you, then.” Caleb grinned. “Would have saved me a whole lot of suffering.” He shook hands all around and ended with Guthrie. “We’re planning a late-October wedding and I’m in the market for a best man.”

  Guthrie nodded. “I’m not sure I’m the best, but I’d sure be honored.” He took Pony’s hand in his. “And, ma’am, I’m real happy you’re staying put.”

  “Amen,” Badger said, and Ramalda used her apron to wipe the tears that ran down her cheeks while Caleb gently patted her shoulder.

  Later that evening, in the gathering hush of blue twilight, Pony sat on the edge of the porch, dangling her feet and bracing elbows on knees, chin in hand, watching the boys field balls that Caleb was tossing up and hitting with a bat. The soft banter of their voices floated up to her, and her heart swelled until she felt as if it would burst with happiness.