"Hi."
"Were you sleeping?" she asked.
"No, I was just . . ." He shrugged. "Remembering."
"Oh?" She sat down beside him, automatically taking his hand in hers. "What were you remembering?"
"What it was like growing up here. I hadn't realized how much I missed being with the People."
"I like your people, Creed."
"Do you?"
Jassy nodded. "They aren't anything like I was told."
A wry grin touched his lips. "Did you expect to see them dancing naked around a bonfire while eating their young?"
"Of course not! But, well, I guess I didn't expect your people and mine to have so much in common."
"They like you, too, Jassy."
"I'm glad."
Their eyes met, and Creed felt a rush of heat surge through him as he gazed at Jassy. His woman. His wife. It had been weeks since he had made love to her. Too many weeks.
"Jassy . . ."
"It's too soon," she said, her voice filled with regret. "Your wound . . ."
"It doesn't hurt near as much as another part of my anatomy." He gave her hand a gentle tug. "Come here."
"We shouldn't . . ." she argued, but there was no conviction in her tone. "What if someone comes in?"
"They won't, not as long as the door flap is down."
It was too soon, she thought again, but she wanted him so badly, needed him so desperately, needed to feel his arms around her, to touch him and taste him. She'd come so close to losing him.
He pulled her down beside him and she turned on her side, her arm wrapping around his waist as her lips sought his. He kissed her long and hard, and then his tongue slid over her lower lip, and little flames of desire exploded in the deepest part of her.
They made love slowly, drawing out every kiss, every caress, getting to know each other again. Creed forgot the pain of his wound in the joy of holding Jassy close again. Her scent surrounded him, the silk of her hair teased his chest, and her hands and lips stroked him gently, arousing him as no other woman ever could until, with a low groan, he rose above her, sheathing himself within her.
They fit together like a hand in a glove, he mused, and then all thought was gone, swallowed up by waves of pleasure and sensation as his life poured into her.
Late summer gave way to fall. The trees changed their gowns of green for shimmering leaves of orange and red and yellow. But here, in this place, time had no meaning. Creed ate when he was hungry, slept when he was tired. Here, in the land of his birth, he could put all his doubts and fears behind him. It didn't matter that he was a half-breed, that he was an escaped convict, that he owned nothing but the clothes on his back.
He spent his days with the men, gambling, reminiscing, or simply resting in the shade. Sometimes he sat in the sun, absorbing the sights and sounds of the village. He watched some boys race their ponies along the riverbank, watched a handful of women erect a lodge. And always, his gaze strayed toward Jassy. She was learning to make moccasins, to cook over an open fire, to jerk venison, to tan a hide.
In the five weeks they'd been in the village, she had managed to pick up a smattering of the Lakota language. Iyuskinyan wancinyankelo was a phrase she used often. It meant I'm glad to meet you. Higna meant husband, mitawin meant wife. Ake u wo meant Come again; Le mitawa meant This is mine; loyacin he meant Are you hungry; tokiya la he meant Where are you going? She had expressed some surprise when she asked about the Lakota word for good-bye and learned that there wasn't one. Creed had explained that his people felt that the conclusion of a talk was obvious and therefore required no formal word of parting.
Another two weeks passed. Early one morning, he went hunting with Tasunke Hinzi. Although Creed had been too stiff and sore to draw a bowstring, it had been good to sit on a horse again, to ride across the plains in the company of warriors. He had returned feeling better than he had in weeks.
Day by day, his strength increased, as did his appetite. For food and for Jassy. He couldn't seem to get enough of her. Sometimes he made love to her for hours, arousing her slowly, plying her with kisses and soft caresses, bringing her to the brink of ecstasy only to draw back and start again, delighting in her soft moans of pleasure. At other times, he took her swiftly, his hands and lips bringing her to fever pitch in only moments. And sometimes Jassy turned the tables on him, batting his hands away, refusing to let him touch her while she covered his face and body with kisses and sweet caresses until he ached with the pain of wanting her. Only then did she allow him to participate, to taste and touch.
But fast or slow, in command or subject to her will, the flame between them burned ever brighter until he couldn't remember what life had been like without her at his side.
They were sitting in the shade by the river. Another week had passed, and Creed had finally started to feel like his old self.
Lying back on the grassy bank, he stared up at the cloudless blue sky, thinking there was no place else he'd rather be.
''What was your father like?"
He glanced over at Jassy, who was sitting beside him, her feet dangling in the water, one hand splayed across her abdomen.
"He was a medicine man, like Mato Wakuwa. When I was little, I wanted to grow up to be just like him. There was no man in our village who was more respected."
"What was his name?"
"Rides the Wind."
"What does your Indian name mean?"
"White Crane."
Jassy looked thoughtful a moment. "Do the Indians baptize their babies?"
"No." Creed sat up. Plucking a blade of grass, he twirled it between his thumb and forefinger. "Four days after a baby's born, the parents invite everyone to a feast for the naming of the child. The father and the mother's mother give gifts to their friends, to the holy man, and to the poor. When the feast is over, the father announces the name chosen. I was named after my father's father."
Creed gazed into the water. If he'd gone on a vision quest, he likely would have received a new name.
"Is your father still alive?"
"My father was killed in battle when I was thirteen."
"And your mother?"
"I don't know. I ran away from home when I was seventeen, and I never went back."
"How did your parents meet?"
"My mother was wounded in a raid. One of the warriors brought her to the village and left her with my father. He tended her wounds."
"And they fell in love," Jassy exclaimed. "How romantic."
"Not exactly. My father fell in love. My mother hated everything about the Indians, including me."
"I'm sorry, Creed," Jassy said softly.
"Yeah." He tossed the blade of grass into the water and watched the current carry it away.
To this day, he didn't understand why his mother had refused to let him stay with the Lakota. She had made it clear that she didn't approve of him, that she was ashamed of his Indian blood, yet she had insisted on dragging him back East. Why?
"Haven't you ever wondered what happened to her?"
He shook his head. "I can honestly say I'd never given her a thought until we came here."
"Maybe, after we find Rose, we could look for your mother."
"Maybe, although I doubt she'd be too happy to find me on her doorstep."
"It's hard, when your mother doesn't love you," Jassy murmured. "I wish . . ."
"What, honey? What do you wish?"
"I wish I knew where my father is, if he's still alive. It's silly, I guess. I don't even remember what he looked like."
With a sigh, Creed put his arm around Jassy's shoulder and drew her up against him. "I was a pretty good bounty hunter, you know. I could probably track him down if you really want to find him."
Jassy looked up at him, at the tenderness in his eyes. "You'd do that for me?"
"If you want me to."
"I don't know. He probably wouldn't be any happier to see me than your mother would be to see you."
A faint suspicion rose in Creed's mind a
s his gaze swept over Jassy. "Why this sudden interest in my mother and your father?" he asked, frowning.
Jassy shrugged and looked away, but she could feel Creed's gaze on her face, feel the heat climbing into her cheeks under his intense scrutiny.
"Jassy . . ." Creed swallowed hard. "You're not pregnant, are you?"
Hesitantly, she turned to meet his gaze. "Would you mind?"
Suddenly speechless, he could only stare at her. Pregnant! He tried to tell himself it was bad news, that he didn't want to be a father, that he had no right to bring a child into the world when his life was such a mess, but none of that seemed to matter now. He felt a smile pull at the corners of his mouth, felt a sudden excitement stir in the pit of his stomach.
Springing to his feet, he grabbed Jassy and held her tight. "I think it's great!" he exclaimed, and lifting her in his arms, he twirled her around and around. The sound of her laughter mingled with his, and then, breathless, he put her down, his hands resting on her shoulders.
"Jassy." He shook his head, overcome with awe to think that she was carrying a child. His child.
She smiled up at him, her eyes shining with love, and he knew she had never been more beautiful than she was at this moment, with her love shining in her eyes and a new life growing beneath her heart.
"I was afraid you'd be mad."
"No." He tilted her chin up, then lowered his head and kissed her. "I'm not mad. I love you, Jassy."
"And I love you!" she whispered fervently, and throwing her arms around Creed's neck, she kissed him with all the love in her heart.
Winter came in a rush of wind and rain. Now that Creed was well again, they moved into a lodge of their own. Creed had traded his horse to Tasunke Hinzi's wife, Wakinyela, for enough hides to make a lodge, and then Sunlata, Wakinyela, and a dozen of the women had got together and sewn the hides for the cover.
Jassy was amazed to find that the Lakota lodge stayed warm and snug, even in the midst of a storm. The inner lining kept out drafts and dampness and prevented rain from dripping off the poles. The warm air rising inside the tipi drew in cold air from the outside, which came in under the cover and went up behind the lining, creating a perfect draft for the fire and taking the smoke out with it.
The liner was sometimes referred to as a "ghost screen" because it prevented the casting of shadows from the fire onto the outer wall, thereby providing not only privacy for the family, but safety as well, giving no enemy who might be lurking in the darkness a target to shoot at.
Jassy glanced at the tipi lining. Unlike the lining in Mato Wakuwa's lodge, which had been covered with drawings that depicted the shaman's exploits in battle, the lining of their lodge was bare.
They had virtually no possessions other than the clothes on their backs, two buffalo robes, two willow-rod backrests, which had been gifts from Sunlata, and a few cooking pots which had been given to them by some of the other women.
Sunlata had told Jassy that, to the Lakota, the tipi was considered a temple as well as a home. The floor of the lodge represented the earth, the walls represented the sky, and the poles were the trails from earth to the spirit world. In Sunlata's lodge, directly behind the firepit, was a little space of bare earth which served as the family altar where sweet grass, cedar, or sage was burned.
Sunlata had told her that the Lakota believed that the incense carried the prayers to Wakan Tanka, as did the smoke from a pipe. Before each meal, the host said grace and made an offering of a choice piece of meat, either by placing it in the fire or burying it in the earth on the altar.
There were definite rules of etiquette for living in a Lakota lodge. If the door flap was open, friends usually felt free to walk right in. If the flap was closed, they called out or rapped on the hide and awaited an invitation to enter. If two sticks were crossed over the tipi door, it meant that the owners were away or that they wished to be left alone.
As a rule, men sat on the north side of the tipi and women on the south. On entering a tipi, a man moved to the right, a woman to the left. When possible, it was proper to walk behind anyone who was already seated.
So many things to learn and remember, Jassy mused, and yet, in spite of everything, she had never been happier. Creed was alive and well and they were together, and that was all that mattered.
Among the Sioux, winter was a time of storytelling. Men and women moved from lodge to lodge, visiting and listening in rapt attention as the old ones related the ancient legends and tales.
Jassy learned of Iya, who was the chief of all evil. He was personified by the cyclone, and his foul breath brought disease. Lesser gods in the demon group were water sprites, goblins, and monsters. Iktomi was known as the Trickster. He was a deposed god and reminded Jassy of Lucifer, who had been cast out of heaven for rebellion. There were other evil spirits in Lakota legend: Waziya, the Old Man; his wife, Wakanaka, the Witch; and their daughter, AnogIte, the double-faced Woman.
Wakan Tanka was the chief god, but there were other gods: Inyan, the Rock; Maka, the Earth; Skan, the Sky; and Wi, the Sun, were Superior Gods. Maka was the mother of all living things. Skan, who was a source of power, sat in judgment on all the other gods. Wi was the defender of bravery, fortitude, generosity, and fidelity.
Lesser gods included Hanwi, the Moon, and Tate, the Wind. Whope was the daughter of the Sun and the Moon, and Wakinyan, the Winged, was the patron of cleanliness.
Jassy was fascinated by the Lakota religion. Four was a sacred number. There were four corners to the earth, four seasons to a year. There were four Superior Gods and four Lesser Gods. There were four classes of animals: crawling, flying, four-legged, and two-legged. There were four parts to all plant life: root, stem, leaves and fruit.
Just as the number four was sacred, so was the circle. The earth, the sun, and the moon were round. The four winds circled the earth; the bodies of animals and the stems of plants were round. Everything in nature, save the rock, was round. So the Lakota lodge was also round.
There were monsters in Lakota lore: Gnaske, the Crazy Buffalo, might bring insanity or paralysis. The Unktehi captured men and turned them into beasts; the Nini Watu were maggots that caused pain and suffering. The Gica caused accidents, while Can Oti made men lose their direction.
Jassy grinned as she thought of the bogey man her mother had frightened her with. He seemed tame when compared to a monster that could turn you into a beast!
Despite the cold and the snow, Jassy loved spending the winter with the Lakota. There was a freedom to living with the Indians that she had never known before. They ate when they were hungry, slept when they were tired, hunted when it was necessary, and played and sang to buoy their spirits when cold winter winds blew across the plains.
There were no clocks to tell her the time, no highborn ladies to look down on her because her mother had been a whore. There was only Creed, growing stronger each day. They could spend as much time as they wanted alone in the lodge, just the two of them, snuggled together under a warm buffalo robe. A cozy fire crackled in the firepit, but it was Creed's arms that kept her warm, that made her feel loved and cherished.
As the days and weeks passed, Jassy picked up more and more of the language. She found she liked living in a Lakota lodge. She liked the comfort and freedom of wearing a loose-fitting doeskin dress and leggings and fur-lined moccasins. She learned to cook over a fire, to skin rabbits and deer.
And each day, she fell more and more in love with Creed. Here, away from civilization, he smiled more and laughed more. Gradually, the hard shell that had surrounded him fell away. Only then did she realize that she hadn't really known Creed Maddigan at all until now.
Chapter Twenty-Six
''What would you think about staying here?"
Jassy looked up from the pot of stew she'd been stirring. "What?"
"I asked how you'd feel about staying here. Indefinitely."
Jassy stared at him for a long moment, her mind racing. Stay here, with the Lakota? Live here? Have the baby her
e?
Creed was looking at her, waiting for an answer.
"I don't know," she said slowly. I love your people, and I love it here, I really do, but . . ." She placed her hand over her abdomen.
"You're afraid to have the baby here?"
Jassy nodded.
"The Indians have babies all the time."
"I know."
"But?"
"Well, it's so primitive. I mean, what if something goes wrong, and we need a doctor?"
"Mato Wakuwa is a doctor."
"He's a medicine man."
"It's the same thing."
"But . . ."
"Never mind, Jassy. It was just a thought."
"You don't want to leave, do you?"
"No."
Tears stung Jassy's eyes. Why did she feel so guilty? It wasn't that she didn't love the Indians. She did. But she wanted to be near a real doctor when her time came. She wanted a midwife who spoke English and a doctor if something went wrong. Surely Creed'could understand that? This was her first baby, and as much as she wanted it, she couldn't help being a little afraid.
With a sigh, Creed took Jassy in his arms. "Hey, it's all right, honey. We'll go on to Frisco in the spring, like we planned."
"You're disappointed in me, aren't you?"
"No. No." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Don't ever think that, Jassy."
He tipped her chin up and smiled into her eyes. "I love you, Jassy."
"I love you, too."
"Good." He gave her an affectionate swat on the rump. "How about some of that stew?"
Gradually, the days grew longer, the weather grew warmer, and the snow melted. Creed didn't say anything more about staying with the Indians, but Jassy felt as though she had failed him somehow.
As spring grew nearer, the village seemed possessed of a growing excitement. It was the anticipation of the first spring hunt, Creed explained. Though the winter had been mild, it had been weeks since there was fresh meat in the village. The young men were eager for the hunt. The old ones were anxious for the taste of fresh buffalo hump and tongue.
As soon as the last snow melted, the village packed up and moved.
Madeline Baker - Lakota Renegade Page 22