Lakota Flower

by Janelle Taylor

  Her mind shrieked, What now?

  Chapter Two

  Caroline summoned her courage. “May I be excused?” she asked. She could tell from her captor’s baffled look that he did not understand the meaning of her query. “Visit the bushes,” she said and pointed to them.

  War Eagle nodded permission, then warned her, “You run, I chase, punish. It name leja.”

  Caroline nodded. Embarrassment burned her cheeks as she committed that Lakota word to memory. She went behind the dense greenery growing near the river’s bank and relieved herself in a hurry; though for some reason, she trusted him not to intrude on her privacy. She noticed that he had used a matter-of-fact, even slightly affable, tone of voice. She rinsed her hands in the river, dried them on the hem of her dress, and awaited his next order.

  The two men sat down on the grass beneath a large tree, their horses grazing and drinking in contentment nearby. She watched the men retrieve food from leather pouches and begin to eat, occasionally sipping water from strange bags. She took a seat on the grass not far away, close to the edge of the tree’s remaining shadow. When her stomach growled in hunger, she placed a hand over it to muffle the sound. She glanced around as the men ate and drank and talked in their language. Although she yearned for food, she did not ask for it; she was uncertain about the way a captive was treated and should behave to avoid injury or death. It seemed best to remain as still and quiet as a mouse trying to go unnoticed by a ravenous hawk circling overhead; or in this instance, a war eagle.

  As she gazed at the river, her heart and mind ached to know her brother’s location and condition. Was David alive or dead, wounded or unharmed? If alive, he couldn’t possibly know about her grim fate. When he learned about it, what action would he be allowed to take, if any? Surely somebody would come searching for them when they failed to reach Fort Kearny on schedule. But what would have happened to her by then, and would she be found and rescued?

  Caroline’s thoughts were interrupted when War Eagle nudged her shoulder with a gentle touch. Startled from her reverie, she looked up at him. The handsome warrior appeared to tower over her, yet neither his stance nor his expression seemed menacing. He held objects out to her.

  War Eagle passed her the water bag and said, “Mni. Drink. Wasna. Eat,” he added. As he gave her the second object his keen senses noted that she appeared alert and wary but not terrified, and that pleased him. An odd warmth spread through his body as she gazed up at him with wide blue eyes. He had. never experienced such strange alarm and tension, even during stealthy raids and perilous battles, as he did at that moment when unwanted desire claimed him. She was nothing more to him than an enemy captive, but a mysterious and potent force drew him to her. He knew he must not surrender even slightly to those sensations; he must resist them with all of his might. He must not dishonor himself and his rank or be cruel by taking her for the mere release of physical urges. He warned himself to put a safe distance between them as fast as possible so as to resist her unnerving magic.

  Caroline accepted the offerings, fearing to reject them and offend him; and she needed her strength for what loomed ahead. She nodded and said, “Thank you.”

  After the warrior rejoined his friend, she sniffed the unknown food, bit off a piece, rolled it around on her tongue, chewed, and swallowed. She was surprised and gratified to find its flavor pleasant. It seemed to be some kind of bread with dried nuts and berries. As she sipped from the Indianstyle canteen, she committed the two new words to memory: mni for water and wasna for bread or food. Since she would be a captive in his camp until she escaped or was rescued, she should learn all she could about his culture, ways, and language. She had heard only bad things about Indians from the soldiers and most of the settlers she had encountered at Fort Pierre during her short stay there, but were they all true? If not, which ones were accurate?

  As she ate and drank, Caroline called those people’s opinions and assertions to mind. Especially during her five-day journey with the soldiers who were compelled to travel slowly due to heavy wagons, she had overheard many things. The men had talked and laughed about spoiled meat, insect-infested flour, skinny cattle, inferior blankets, and a lack of or sorry condition of the annuities promised to the “Injuns” in the Laramie Treaty of 1851 in exchange for peace with the whites and with enemy tribes and for permission to cross certain areas of their lands. They had jested about giving Indians more whiskey to dull their brains and weaken their bodies and spirits, and bringing in more diseases to slay them as with past epidemics. They had revealed their greed for the fertile land so perfect for ranches and farms, for roads and for more forts to be built for protection. They had joked about enslaving Indians and teaching them to pick cotton and tobacco and sending them to the South to work on plantations or driving them northward into Canada where they could starve and freeze or become the problem of the Canadians. They had ridiculed “redskin” customs, beliefs, rituals, and appearances. They had bragged about how the army was going to whip the Indians so badly they would “be running with their tails between their legs like dogs and licking their wounds for years to come,” if they allowed any of the “savages” to survive. They had talked of total conquest, subjugation, humiliation, destruction of Indian villages and way of life, eradication, and outright slaughter, even of “squaws, breeding brats, and gray-heads.”

  If such grim atrocities already had occurred and more—worse—were planned in the near future, Caroline asked herself, could she blame the Indians for their defensive and retaliatory actions? Whites were deceiving them, encroaching on their lands, bringing in weapons—as with those cannons and crates in the wagons with her—and more soldiers for an impending assault; so it was natural for the Indians to assume they were being challenged to war.

  What, she wondered, was the truth? No doubt both sides believed they were in the right. How did David feel about his role in the gruesome matter, and what horrible orders had he been forced to carry out since coming to this territory? No, don’t think about such awful things!

  Caroline watched as War Eagle built a small fire, no doubt to provide light during the blackest phase of the new moon. Perhaps he only wanted to make sure he could keep her in view all night. He needn’t worry, she told herself, as this was not an opportune time to risk an escape. She could not get far without a horse, and she could not flee afoot in total darkness. To attempt such an obviously futile feat would only serve to provoke him against her. She watched him gather some items and walk toward her, an animal skin draped over one arm. She was surprised when he unfolded a buffalo hide and motioned for her to lie on it.

  “Sleep. We ride to camp on new sun.”

  Caroline thanked him and handed him the two pouches. She watched him nod, then rejoin his friend and lie down on the thick grass next to Swift Otter’s furry mat, implying he had given his to her. She told herself she should be grateful to War Eagle for not slaying her on sight, for not harming her so far, and for being generous—even gentle.

  Caroline settled down on the soft hide, her back to the men and facing the river. She didn’t want to think about the disturbing fact that she was lying on his bed. She had seen the way he had stared into her eyes for a few moments, then averted his gaze as if she made him as apprehensive and confused as he made her. What if he found her appealing as a woman? When they reached his camp, would he keep her as his slave or give her to another to avoid temptation? If so, how would that person treat her? Since he had shown her such kindness so far, Caroline prayed she would remain with War Eagle; yet that thought troubled her.

  She tried to discard such thoughts and go to sleep, but they continued to race across her restless mind; and the location he had chosen for camping was a busy one. Crickets, frogs, other nocturnal insects, and birds created loud and almost competitive noises. A few animals came to the river to drink not far away. The horses moved about and swished their tails. The fire crackled and popped from feasting on dry wood. She smelled its smoke, along with the fragrant sc
ents of wildflowers and crushed grass blades, and the odor of horse droppings when the seemingly incessant wind changed direction and blew toward her. Fatigued, she eventually became accustomed to the sounds, sights, and smells and slumber overtook her…

  Caroline was awakened when her shoulder was nudged as she lay on her left side. While her senses were still groggy, she rolled to her back, took a deep breath of fresh air, and opened her eyes to a now familiar sight, War Eagle’s arresting face. He knelt beside her and spoke to her in a mellow tone.

  “We ride soon. Eat. Drink. Leja.”

  Caroline sat up and rubbed heavy lids. She could hardly believe she had gone to sleep and slept so deeply. The sun was rising in an untroubled blue sky and birds were singing in the trees and bushes along the riverbank. A pleasant breeze wafted across her. She concluded it was going to be a lovely, but hot, day, one filled with unknown things. After he returned to his friend’s side for his morning meal, she knelt by the river to bathe her face and hands, doing the task slowly since she dreaded joining the intimidating strangers.

  As she reached for the hem of her dress to dry her hands she heard a terrifying noise to her right and froze in alarm. Without turning her head, she glanced in that direction and saw a large snake atop a nearby log. Its fat body, triangularshaped head, a pit on each side, and evil-looking eyes told her it was poisonous; the multiple rattles on its tail exposed that fact. Within easy striking distance of her, it seemed to stare menacingly at her as its forked tongue flickered in and out of its mouth. She knew the snake detected her presence, perhaps viewed her as a threat, and would strike if she moved to escape or to attack it.

  Suddenly an arrow thudded into the viper’s head, pierced both sides, and pinned it to the log. That action caused its body to thrash about wildly in a futile attempt to free itself, Caroline’s wide gaze retraced the shaft’s path and she saw her captor standing about fifteen feet away as he lowered a bow, then walked toward the imprisoned snake. She watched him cut off the viper’s head and rattles, the latter of which he kept.

  “You hurt?” War Eagle asked.

  Caroline shook her head, still too frightened and shaky to speak. She saw him nod understanding and rejoin his friend. She remained there for few minutes as she calmed herself, wondering if he had been spying on her or simply had heard the snake’s warning sounds. As she settled her frayed nerves, she refused to glance at the bloody creature. Unable to avoid the inevitable any longer, she joined the men and thanked her captor for saving her life. He kept silent and only nodded again.

  When War Eagle gave her more of the same food she had eaten the night before, she consumed it without delay while he recovered his sleeping hide and readied his horse for departure.

  Then the final leg of their journey began.

  After a couple of hours of riding, Caroline saw an encampment looming ahead, countless tepees with poles jutting skyward from each of them. Even at that distance, she saw many people—women, men, and children of various ages. She trembled and tightened her grasp around War Eagle’s waist as if seeking protection and courage.

  War Eagle felt and heard her reaction to the sight beyond them. Before he realized what he was doing and could halt himself, he placed one hand over her interlocked fingers, stroked them, and whispered over his shoulder, “You not fear; we not slay or harm enemy women and children.”

  Relieved, Caroline laid her cheek against his back, took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and murmured, “Thank you, War Eagle, but I’m still afraid of what’s to come.”

  “Fear good; make you obey and no be punished.”

  His tone of voice had altered from compassionate to almost stern as they reached the sprawling village. The two warriors—amidst the stares of their people—wound their way between tepees to a large clearing. During their passing, all work and play ceased. Caroline saw some women and men whispering to nearby companions. A few motioned toward them as they talked in low voices. Some ran past tepees, no doubt to spread the news of their arrival to others who had not yet seen them. Dread caused her heart to beat faster as she realized she was totally surrounded by, and at the mercy of, The Enemy.

  A buckskin-clad crowd gathered around, most with expressions of curiosity and confusion. As some of the darkhaired females openly stared at her, Caroline released her hold on the warrior’s waist and rested sweaty and shaky hands on her thighs. Four males stepped close to her captor’s horse and studied her for a minute: two slightly older than War Eagle appeared to be, one at least twice his age, and an elderly man with gray hair and a serene aura. When the middleaged man spoke with War Eagle, she assumed him to be their leader, perhaps his father. She lowered her gaze and focused it on the back of her captor’s waist. All she could do was await her fate, as she could not understand their language. Be still and silent; don’t do anything to offend or provoke them against you. Please, God, guide me and protect me.

  In Lakota, Chief Rising Bear asked his third child, “Why do you and Swift Otter return to camp without the others, my son, and bring a white woman with you? Was there trouble during the hunt?”

  War Eagle remained mounted so everyone could see and hear him. “Yes, Father, we battled with bluecoats on the past sun, but no Red Shield was lost. We slayed them, but I spared her life, as is our way.”

  Rising Bear replied, “It is not our way to take white captives, my son.”

  “I could not leave a helpless female on the grasslands alone to die or be found and abused by an enemy band or found by other soldiers, for she would tell the white-eyes who did that deed, which would endanger us.”

  The chief nodded and praised him. “That is true and wise. We must call the council together so you can reveal your news to us. Take the woman to our tepee and leave her with your mother and sister.”

  War Eagle nodded. The crowd parted for him to do as his father, their chief, had commanded. He guided his horse to the side of the largest and most highly decorated tepee, situated in the inner circle in a place of honor. He dismounted and helped Caroline to the ground, then handed his reins to a young boy who took charge of the horse. “Come,” he told her and led her to the waiting women near the tepee’s entrance. He pointed to the oldest one and said, “Mother, Winona,” and to the youngest and said, “Sister, Hanmani. I go. You stay.”

  Caroline nodded understanding and compliance before he left on foot. She looked at the women who gazed at her, thankfully without loathsome expressions. She pointed to herself and said, “Caroline.”

  Hanmani, who was astonished by her youngest brother’s action, said, “Sit,” as she motioned to a rush mat nearby. “I give you water.”

  “You speak English, too?” Caroline asked.

  “Speak little. Know more. Not Mother. Not Father. Brothers, yes.”

  Caroline was relieved that at least some of them knew her language, as that would help her understand their orders and learn their tongue. She took the assigned seat and sipped from the water bag the young girl handed to her. As she returned the bag, she smiled and said, “Thank you, Hanmani,” and saw the girl nod. She watched the two women return to their tasks nearby, working with buffalo hides and meat drying.

  At that time, she thought it was best to hold her silence until she was spoken to, though they seemed to ignore her presence and chatted amongst themselves in low voices. She saw an Indian man pause and stare at her from across the center clearing; there was something intimidating in his frigid expression, narrowed gaze, and stiffened body, which she found alarming. Who was he? And why, since she was a stranger and a mere woman, did hate and repulsion seem to emanate from him like an evil force? Relax, Caroline, don’t surmise the worst until you know the truth…

  * * *

  When the men gathered in a group beyond the tepees and sat down on the grass to listen to the report, Rising Bear asked, “Why did you attack and slay the bluecoats, my son?”

  After War Eagle explained his deed and motives, Runs Fast accused, “You will call down the white war chi
ef’s anger upon us, as with the Brules.”

  “Have you forgotten, my uncle, the great white war chief Harney and other white leaders blame all Lakotas for what the Brules did to Grattan and for their many raids before and after that battle? They do not listen when they are told Grattan was the first to attack and spill blood or that other bands are not to blame. They use Grattan’s death as a reason to slay all Indians and take our lands. They do not speak the truth or honor their treaty with us and our foes. We must attack all small parties of bluecoats and destroy their powerful weapons before they join as one big force against us.”

  Runs Fast debated, “The whites and bluecoats are many; more will come to replace them, and they will bring more of their powerful weapons. Arrows, lances, and war clubs are weak against the giant thundersticks.”

  War Eagle looked at the husband of his father’s sister and agreed. “That is true.”

  Before he could continue, his uncle challenged his words. “So why do you call down their anger upon us with your attack?”

  Using great restraint to master his annoyance and a calm tone to conceal it, War Eagle repeated his motives and went on to say, “While they receive word and journey here, that will give us more suns of peace and more suns to prepare for the great battle that is certain to strike at us before the cold season, for Harney will reach our lands soon as my brother Cloud Chaser learned during his visit to their forts.” He reminded them, “My war party removed the arrows with Red Shield markings. They pushed the big thundersticks over the bluffs of Makosica. Some buried the bluecoats’ bodies there in Mother Earth, as is their custom and where they can not be found. Others drove buffalo over their trail and ours to conceal them before they returned to the great hunt. Even if such signs are found by their scouts, they will not know who did that deed. If you doubt my cunning, we can put out false signs of the Crow to lead the bluecoats to our enemy and to blame them, as we did long ago when I followed my brother Wind Dancer and his wife, Dewdrops, during their sacred vision quest.”