by Sadie Conall
She nodded. “He is known as Tahkawiitik, Chief of the Skiri Pawnee. He is here with his family, but only for a few days. They are passing through on their way back to Pawnee lands after being in the north. Those men with him are also Pawnee. They have been here for more than week, although I believe they have been looking for him for some time.”
So, he was a Chief. Madeleine had thought it when she first met him all those months ago. She hoped he got what he wanted. Although looking at the women and children sitting behind him, she presumed he had.
He was dressed plainly in buckskin shirt and pants, as were the other men with him. Although their clothing was the only thing plain about them. For like Te’tukhe and Wesa'shangke, these men all wore tattoos on their faces, chest and arms. They also wore silver jewellery in their pierced ears. And like Ryder’s brothers, when Madeleine first saw them all those years ago riding along the bosaage, these men all wore scalp locks. But along with the bone of the animal they had chosen, which was threaded within their hair, allowing it to stand on end more than six inches in height above their head from forehead to their lower neck, four of the five men had dyed their scalp locks vivid red, the colour taken from cherries or grapes or berries or the pokeberry plant. They also wore that same red dye on their faces and hands. They had been to war then. They had taken a life.
Madeleine thought them an intimidating looking group, but she had thought that of the giant the first time she met him some ten months earlier. Then he had worn dark strips of black paint on his face and neck as a sign of war, although that was now gone. Now his scalp lock was dusted with white fire ash, which Madeleine knew signified grief. No doubt to pay respect for his dead brothers.
Around his neck he still wore the impressive necklace of bone and rawhide and feathers which fell almost to his waist. She had thought on first seeing it all those months ago that such a thing of beauty was fit only for a chief. She watched as he took the pipe from his mouth and the movement made his mouth twist awkwardly and again, she saw the rigid white scar which swept from the corner of his mouth up his cheek, giving him a permanent sneer which was unfortunate, for he was a handsome man. But at least he no longer looked in pain, as he had the first time she saw him. Then he had been suffering from those dreadful knife wounds, received in a battle he had fought with four men who had killed his two brothers and taken their wives and children, leaving him for dead.
Madeleine had been resting with Harry the day he rode into her camp. Poongatse and Wannge’e had left to set up snares by a river to replenish their supplies before their last push north to the Omaha. And they had been desperate days, for she hadn’t known if Ryder were alive or dead. When Tahkawiitik insisted she trade her musket for his dagger, although she had seen no value in the trade, she had known he would take it. And unwilling to have him find the other muskets she had hidden away within one of their bivouacs, she had accepted the trade.
She turned her gaze away from him, feeling as she did the first time they met. He was dangerous.
*
When Madeleine excused herself from Thibault’s family, she and Wi’keya went back into the woods to collect some kindling and wood to make their own fire. They also checked on the horses and their few belongings then they built a firepit together. The little girl still barely made a sound, but she now accepted Madeleine and Ryder in Hanyewi’winyan’s place. And if she were traumatised by losing the old woman in death, she made no sign of it. As the afternoon moved into dusk, Madeleine made the child a herbal drink of chamomile to help her settle for the night, just as Ryder returned to join them, carrying treasure in his arms.
Sans Arc territory: May 1805
Te’tukhe heard the men’s laughter first, followed by voices talking loudly then the snort and blow of horses. He frowned, for men who felt no need for silence weren’t hunters, or scouts, or killers. He had no time to kick his horse under cover of the trees before the men appeared.
There were eleven of them and they were clearly in high spirits. When they saw Te’tukhe he raised his hand in friendship, using the Plains sign talk. Several of the men responded in the same way, just as Te’tukhe realized that none of the men carried muskets. Instead, they all wore sheaths of arrows on their backs with bows across their shoulders and several carried axes secured to belts around their buckskin shirts, along with spirit shields.
He reined his horse in and waited, although he felt no aggression from these men. They wore their long hair plaited, most of the plaits woven with fur or threads of buckskin.
“Friend!” one of them called out in the Sioux dialect. “Do you also head for the nearby Rendezvous?”
Te’tukhe shook his head, replying in the same language. “I know nothing of a Rendezvous. I head north to the Hŭŋkpapĥa, for I have urgent business there,” he paused, realizing the men coming towards him were all youths, young men in their late teens and early twenties.
“Where do you come from, brother?” another youth called out to him.
Te’tukhe told them he was Ugákhpa, born in the Wazhazhe village. They didn’t know the Wazhazhe or Ugákhpa people, but they knew the Hŭŋkpapĥa people well enough, for they owned familial connections to that tribe.
“You find yourself in good company, friend,” one of the young men called out, laughing. “For we are also Sioux. We are Itázipčho, although the French know us as Sans Arc.” Then he turned and nodded towards four of the men who rode to the rear of the group. These men wore their hair long to their waists except for the feathers woven within a plait at the back of their heads. Their clothing was also of buckskin although they wore beautiful bone and leather bands around their throats. “These men are Tsêhéstáno, known by some as Cheyenne.”
Te’tukhe nodded, aware from his years of living in this territory trapping furs with Allard and his sons that the Lakota and Cheyenne were sometimes at war. He was glad to know that for now, they were at peace.
“We head west to the Rendezvous to trade our furs,” another of the youths called out. “You would be welcome to join us friend, for it is no more than a few hours ride from here.”
Te’tukhe paused, suddenly eager for company, for he had riding alone for weeks. Joining these young men would mean a further delay, but no more than a few days. And the thought of sharing a warm fire and good food with a large group of men was very appealing. So he found himself nodding in agreement.
in the wild: May 1805
One
Ryder held several buckskin wraps, each one full of food. One held strips of freshly smoked buffalo meat, another held hot corn cakes and yet another of fresh beans. He also carried two leather pouches, one full of coffee, the other tobacco. Wi’keya and I greedily took one of the corn cakes still hot from the pan they had been fried on, although we had no need of more food for our bellies were full after our last meal.
“You did well, halfbreed,” I whispered, so grateful for this bounty, moving to kiss him on the mouth, thinking us safe in the gloomy light of dusk to show him affection. He laughed and put a hand on my lower back, pulling me close. I put my hands out to touch him, placing them on his wide hard chest, feeling his heart beat beneath my fingers just as the blanket fell away from my head and shoulders.
Quickly I reached out to pull it back over my head, although in all truth I wasn’t too bothered about the attention here, for there were many French-Canadian women and girls in this camp.
Ryder packed most of the traded goods away, ready for when we left at dawn on the morrow and as I joined him and Wi’keya by the fire to eat another corn cake while they were still hot, along with a slice each of the buffalo meat, I silently thanked Hanyewi’winyan, for it had been the trade of her leather bags which had given us this feast. But as I watched the little girl devour her hot cake followed by a thick slice of the buffalo meat, as the rich juices ran down her chin, I think Hanyewi’winyan would have approved of the trade.
I heated water in my clay bowl and Ryder and I shared a drink of coffee. We savoure
d every mouthful of that precious drink. And although the bags containing the tobacco and coffee we had traded at Manier’s trading post were now hopefully at Allard’s cabin, along with our son and the girls, this latest trade would get us through the next few weeks at least.
As the sun gave a final burst of light before it set, turning the sky a vivid palette of gold and crimson, we made a move to return to Thibault’s fire and smoke our pipes with him and his family when Ryder suddenly stood up, uttering an oath of astonishment. I turned to follow his gaze and saw a large group of riders appear on the far side of camp. They rode their horses at a walk and I could see they were a friendly bunch, calling out to people they knew, although they were young men, barely out of their teens.
Then Ryder turned back to me, laughing, uttering only four words before he turned and hurried away to meet the riders. But in those few words I heard all the relief and love in the world. “Thank God! It’s Te’tukhe!”
*
He was as astonished to see us as we were of him, although I didn’t step forward to meet him. I remained with Wi’keya by the fire, knowing my greeting would come later, for these new arrivals were attracting quite a bit of attention, let alone the loud reunion between the two brothers.
“You took your damn time in finding us,” I heard Ryder scold his younger brother, yet I could hear the pleasure and relief in his voice.
Te’tukhe turned to introduce Ryder to the men behind him and I heard Ryder invite them to share our camp. But the men declined, for they already had family members and friends here they wanted to join. When they kicked their horses on, Ryder and Te’tukhe joined me and Wi’keya, hobbling Te’tukhe’s horse with our own.
He wasn’t surprised to find us with the child, not after weeks of tracking us. And after he accepted with gratitude a few of the corn cakes and slices of buffalo meat, he told us of his journey north since leaving us all those weeks ago.
We all spoke in the Ugákhpa dialect for it was easier that way. We told him we didn’t know who the little girl was. All we knew was her name. But we told him of our visit to the Mandan and our meeting Hanyewi’winyan and our disappointment at not being able to understand much of what she said to us. As to Deinde'-paggwe’s whereabouts, that was a mystery.
Te’tukhe nodded, even as he glanced at the little girl with curiosity. “I experienced the same with the Mandan. It was as if she were dead to them. As to the old woman, she might have been speaking in the ancient Caddo dialect,” he said. “Some of the old people still speak this language and if she had been, even I wouldn’t have been able to understand her. Yet it’s a shame we don’t know who the girl is. But what dialect does she speak? What does she tell you?”
Ryder shrugged. “She has never spoken. Not once. She didn’t even speak one word to Hanyewi’winyan. Although she’s mute, she responds well enough to sound.”
Te’tukhe shrugged. “So, will you accept her as your own?” he asked.
Ryder and I glanced at each other. It wasn’t something we had spoken of, but now we had been asked, we had to consider it.
“Of course, she is welcome to live with us,” I said. “Indeed, I welcomed two little French girls into my home just over three years ago and although they chose to remain in St Louis rather than come west, no doubt they will accompany us back to England. So, unless this child prefers living with the Hŭŋkpapĥa or the Bannock, she will stay with us.”
Te’tukhe nodded and moved to sit crosslegged, although he kept glancing at the little girl, frowning.
“What’s on your mind, brother,” Ryder finally asked. “You sit as if you’ve found an ant’s nest. What is it about the child that causes such restlessness.”
Te’tukhe shrugged. “On the first night I stayed in the Mandan village there was a big commotion about a missing child and old woman. Everyone thought them lost in the storm, or drowned, for the river ended up breaking its banks that night. Yet here is a lone child. And an old woman dead in the woods. Yet who are they? And why did they come after you? For believe me, they followed your tracks all the way from the Mandan village, because I was following them.”
Ryder glanced at me, then shrugged. “We’ll never know. Unfortunately she’ll remain a mystery to us and there’s little we can do about it.”
*
Thibault came and once again invited us to join him and his family at his fire, so we took some of the tobacco we had recently traded and shared it with him. It was a happy night made special by having Te’tukhe back with us, as we all spoke of our travels and discussed the changes to the territory.
It was a few hours after dusk when we all turned to watch a small group of riders, four men from a local tribe, walk their horses slowly down the centre of that sprawling camp. Each one of them owned tattoos, their long hair held tightly in thick plaits, their buckskin and moccasins worn, which suggested they had been riding for some time, perhaps months.
Others in the camp also turned to look at them, not because it was odd to have someone arrive at such an hour, but because the pulse of hatred burning off the four men was like a flame. Everyone felt it and every man in their path stepped away from them. Even Thibault, a man who was usually so generous remained where he was, unwilling to welcome them or show them where to camp.
“They’re looking for someone,” Te’tukhe said as the four men slowly walked their horses passed us. “I came across them twice as I rode north, although I gave them a wide berth. And you can understand why. I wouldn’t like to put my back to such men.”
I saw Nu’p’minaki pull her blanket up around her head and shoulders, followed by her daughters, so I did the same, having an urgent need to remain invisible from these men. They glanced down at us as they passed on by, yet one of the men at the rear of the group looked startled as he looked at me. I pulled the blanket closer around my face even as a stench of something lingered in their passing, of something foul, of putrefaction.
“He’s hurt,” Te’tukhe said, as Thibault’s wife raised her blanket to cover her face in a bid to avoid the offensive smell.
But we had all seen it. The man leading them rode slumped over his horse, a piece of sodden buckskin held to his upper thigh. It was from this that the smell of rotting flesh came.
They rode on down to the far end of camp, drawing stares as they continued to look at people. We didn’t see where they made camp. Probably further back within the trees. Although no doubt the lead man would seek out the help of a healer. We never saw them ride out the following morning, but they must have left well before dawn.
But the arrival of those men seemed to drain away the happy energy of the camp and not long after their passing, I carried Wi’keya back to our own camp. She was still fast asleep as I laid her on my furs. I paused long enough to put more wood on the fire although it wasn’t cold, then I lay beside her, feeling the warmth of her small body next to my own. I fell asleep to the soft murmur of the men talking around Thibault’s fire, along with the familiar noises of a large camp settling down for the night. I didn’t even hear Ryder and Te’tukhe come to bed later, nor the man who crept towards us in the dark in the early hours of the morning, looking at the four of us as we slept deeply around our fire.
*
We had a visitor the following morning, a stranger, although I knew him. He arrived with Te’tukhe, although Te’tukhe had just returned from bidding farewell to his Cheyenne and Sans Arc friends.
He came just as Ryder and I finished packing away our few belongings on the back of our horses before riding out. He introduced himself, but I already knew he was Pawnee. In his mid-thirties with tattoos across his cheekbones and that elaborately dyed scalp lock, he asked if we would accompany him back to their camp for his Chief would like to meet us.
We all glanced back at Tahkawiitik. He was sitting by his camp fire in the cool morning air, waiting. I glanced at Ryder and Te’tukhe. They knew of this giant, for I had spoken of him around our campfire during those cold winter nights at the Omaha village,
so I was happy to let them go. But as I turned back to finish our packing the Pawnee stopped and pointed at me, his scalp lock vibrant in that dawn light.
“You,” he said, his voice hard and blunt. “He wants to speak to you.”
Startled by this, for a woman was never invited to join the men’s circle, I picked Wi’keya up and followed the men to their camp. Tahkawiitik moved to stand as we approached him. I glanced at the women and children sitting behind him and presumed the older woman was his wife. As we came closer I became aware of the awful grief of the younger women and understood they were the widows of Tahkawiitik’s brothers, who had perished in a violent attack on their camp almost a year before. Taken captive with their children, these women had lived for months with their captives. Tahkawiitik indicated we join him by the fire and as we sat crosslegged opposite him, I was aware of people looking at us, or rather of me and Wi’keya, for it was rare to see a woman and child sitting in the company of a Chief.
“It is you, is it not?” he asked, his voice that rich deep baritone, so similar to Ryder and Te’tukhe’s own. He spoke in the same crude French he had used to communicate with me all those months ago, but I understood him well enough. “You are the woman who traded her musket for my dagger, are you not? Yet where is the boy who was with you? The child who clings to you now is too young and surely a girl. Which puzzled me at first. I thought perhaps I had got it wrong, but as soon as I saw you again this morning, I knew it was you. You are not easily forgotten Madame.”
I raised the blanket off my head for just a moment and he nodded when he saw my face. I introduced Ryder and Te’tukhe and revealed their Ugákhpa heritage and again Tahkawiitik nodded, as though in approval.