Lakota Flower

by Janelle Taylor

  War Eagle lowered his head and looked at Caroline, whose still-worried gaze was locked on him. She nodded as if to say she was happy he had won and was relieved the fight was over.

  “Go to horse. I come soon,” he said.

  Again she nodded, then left to go to where the horses were tethered to await him. He was unconcerned about her going alone, as he was convinced she would not try to flee, just as he was certain the Bird Warrior had been traveling alone. If not, the enemy’s friends would have pounced upon him by now to slay him in revenge. He gathered the Crow’s weapons, took a small scalp lock from the top front of the dead brave’s head, and retrieved the fallen man’s horse. Those were battle prizes he would take home for this coup, one that she had helped him obtain with her daring deed. Relieved he and Caroline were safe, he headed to join her at the horses.

  Caroline looked up at him as he approached, leading an unfamiliar horse with weapons and other possessions secured on its back. He tethered the animal near their mounts and turned to face her and spoke.

  “I go bathe, I return soon. You guard camp. Gift for coup. You brave, cunning. You help defeat Crow. Black Fist bad; he attack Lakota camps, raid, kill. He dead, spirit gone. This protect you from enemy.”

  Caroline eyed him with astonishment as he handed her an unadorned belt with a beaded sheath dangling from it, no doubt taken from his defeated adversary. “You trust me to have a weapon?” she asked in amazement.

  “War Eagle trust Caroline,” he replied, but do not prove me wrong.

  She watched him head down the riverbank until he was concealed from view by bushes and other lush vegetation. Yes, he needed a bath, for his flesh was splattered with his foe’s blood and dirt from their fierce fight. But was he testing her by giving her a weapon? Was he seeking to learn if she would use it against him for revenge or to disable him for flight, or on herself to end her captive life, or for protection if she tried to escape? Did he think she hated him enough to take the first action? Despised her existence so much she would flee it in death? Or was he giving her a sly opportunity to escape to her brother and people? How could she guess what that befuddling warrior was thinking and doing? She could not. It had seemed as if he was surrendering to his challenger to save her life, but he had not been weaponless as she and the Crow were led to believe. Perhaps he simply had wanted to outsmart the enemy and obtain a chance to defeat him. He had her bewildered, probably right where he wanted her to be. Well, my mystifying captor, when you return and find me patiently waiting here and I don’t attack you while en route home, either you will be pleased to discover that your faith in me is justified or you’ll be shocked and disappointed that I have obeyed you and thwarted your clever ploy. I wonder which will be the truth and if I can discern it from your reaction…

  War Eagle thought it was wise to prevent a show of pleasure and relief when he saw Caroline sitting on a fallen tree and gazing at the lovely scenery nearby. He had hoped, prayed, and believed she would be obedient; and he was glad his judgment was accurate. He joined her and sat down beside her, noting she had tied Black Fist’s belt around her waist with the sheath grazing her right hip. If trouble appeared again, she would be able to defend herself. She deserved the gift, as part of the daring and victorious coup was hers. His family and friends back in camp would understand and accept his action and motive after they heard the thrilling story of the Crow’s defeat and how she had initiated it. They, too, would realize she had been willing to risk her life or an injury to save him, marks of a friend and worthy of the honor he had bestowed on her. When she turned her head and looked at him, he grinned. “Face black from enemy hand. I wash. Come.” He grasped her hand, guided her to the river, and indicated she was to kneel beside him.

  Caroline did not flinch as he used water and a piece of soft leather to remove the dark smudges from around her mouth.

  He scowled and said, “No good; it stay.”

  “It needs soap to take it off. I have some in my satchel, my pouch.”

  “What soap?”

  “I’ll show you. Wait here while I get it.” She retrieved her bag, placed it on the ground, withdrew the dwindling bar, and rejoined him. She took the wet leather swatch from his hand, lathered it, and stared to scrub off the charcoal with some type of oily base, probably animal fat. She did not protest when he took over the task. His touch was gentle and he used only enough pressure to wash away the dark smears.

  War Eagle smiled after he finished. “Gone. Haipajaja,” he said as he gestured to the soap in her hand, and grinned when she repeated the word correctly but with difficulty; then she also grinned in amusement. “Caroline hurt?” he asked as he lifted her arm and checked her elbow where a bruise was forming from the two hard blows she had given to his enemy.

  “It’s fine, just a little sore,” she responded during the examination. When he looked confused, she clarified, “Hurt, little. Heal, soon. Thank you. Pilamaya.” She expressed her gratitude once more in his language. She noticed his right forearm was still bleeding. “You’re hurt. I’ll tend it.” When he did not protest by word or action, she tore a strip of cloth from the bottom of her dress, then separated it into two pieces. She dipped one in the water and washed the wound. Though it was not long or deep, it continued to bleed at a slow and stubborn rate. She used the second piece to wind around his arm, then secured it in place with ties ripped from its edge. “There, that will keep out dirt and keep away insects.”

  “What insects?” he asked, recognizing the other English word.

  Caroline glanced around and pointed at several different kinds in the air and on bushes, flowers, and the moist soil of the riverbanks. “Insects.”

  He nodded understanding and translated, “Insects, wabluska.”

  “Wabluska,” she echoed, and he nodded again.

  War Eagle lifted his arm and looked at the neat bandage. He smiled and thanked her.

  Caroline smiled in return, delighted they were talking and relaxing with each other. Could they, she wondered, become friends? Become more to each other? Was it foolish and futile to make that effort?

  Their gazes remained locked following his last word and an exchange of smiles. It was as if they were communicating without speaking, relating their own feelings, and each searching for indications that the other felt the same way. It was as if they were entangled in a private domain and lacked the strength and willpower to escape those irresistible and strong emotional vines that sought to bind them together. For a while, all they did was look at each other with souldeep yearning, then, each leaned forward—drawn together by a potent force—until their mouths touched and they embraced.

  They kissed with eagerness and joy, their lips performing a magical and arousing dance. Their bodies enflamed, tingled, and trembled with rising desire and blissful sensations. As if one being or with one purpose, they eased from the log to the grass with War Eagle lying half atop her, their mouths never parting or ceasing their passionate task. As one of his hands played in her blond hair and the other caressed her face and neck, Caroline’s hand wandered over his broad shoulders and back beneath his vest. Each savored the other’s touch and their own rovings over warm flesh.

  War Eagle’s right leg was between her thighs. His loins ached with eagerness to possess her, and his heart urged him to do so. At that point, his mind was too clouded by her and his cravings to think clearly. All he wanted at that moment was to make her his completely.

  With Caroline, it was the same. Her wits were dazed by him and fierce desire. Awesome pleasure washed over her and a ravenous and unfamiliar hunger chewed at her. Never once did she think, should she, could she, surrender totally to him. It was as if the ability to reason with clarity and caution had been ripped from her brain, leaving her vulnerable and susceptible to his enchanting summons to yield.

  Yet, as they kissed and caressed, a wise and kind spirit was watching over them, one who knew this was not the time and place for such a special union, a bonding experience on the highest
level…

  A large buck bounded across a shallow section of the river, bolted up the bank, and halted only a few feet from them. It shook its head with a ten-point rack and snorted loudly before it dashed away across the terrain.

  The noise the animal created startled War Eagle and Caroline, who jerked apart and sat up in haste. Both gaped at the majestic creature as it stared at them for a few moments before its swift departure. Then, they turned to face each other. He looked dismayed and Caroline blushed.

  War Eagle spoke first, his voice husky. “We go. Danger here.”

  Caroline guessed what he meant by those words—the peril of runaway passions—and nodded agreement. “Cantesica, Wanbli,” she apologized as Cloud Chaser had taught her to do when she made a mistake.

  War Eagle eyed her worried, pleading expression and it tugged at his heart and conscience, his sense of great honor and courage. He refused to allow her to take the blame for his reckless actions. Although it was her big magic that had evoked them and enthralled him for a time, he was not angered by her deed. He was the man, the warrior, the captor, the one who should have been in charge of the situation and either prevented it or halted it sooner. If the Great Spirit had not sent the forest warrior to warn him to awaken from his forbidden dream quest, he would have claimed her as his own. Too, during his rash distraction, another enemy could have attacked and slain them as they mated in wild and wonderful abandonment. The woman who had sneaked into his heart and thoughts and stolen them with ease returned him to reality when she spoke in a quavering voice.

  “I’m ready to ride. Shall we go now?” she implored, anxious to flee his indiscernible silence and probing stare.

  “No be sorry. We weak; hunger strong. No more kiss, touch. Yes?”

  Whether his “Yes?” asked if she concurred with his opinion of their breach—relapse—of proper conduct in their roles of captor/captive and his assertion of their character flaws, or it was meant to coax her compliance to his softly spoken commands, she nodded and said, “Han.”

  War Eagle took a deep breath and held it for a while to slow his racing heart. After he released it, he said, “We go.”

  They gathered their things, repacked and loaded them, and mounted. This time, Caroline grasped the horse’s mane and swung up onto its back before the warrior could assist her. As she situated herself and positioned her dress, she realized he had a broad grin and an amused gaze.

  “Kawa Cante ride good. Cloud Chaser, Dawn, be happy you return. We go,” he repeated, and leapt upon his Appaloosa’s back. Then he headed homeward to hand the sunny flower of his troubled heart over to his brother again.

  Caroline followed, staring at his back as he sat tall and straight on the animal as the proud and honorable man that she knew him to be by now. She realized, and was certain he was aware, he had made another slip of the tongue, which probably had provoked his ensuing frown and rush. She was astounded and elated that he had not punished or berated her, and had not appeared enraged or insulted by their show of desire for each other. Having been told at Fort Pierre that Indians were very “superstitious,” she was glad he had not seemed to believe she was evil or had cast a wicked spell on him to lead him down a dark path of shame and defeat and enthrallment.

  Caroline admitted there was a great deal she did not know and many other things she could not explain about the Indians, but she was learning more every day; and most of those discoveries were contradictory to what she had been told and had overheard. In her opinion, the man riding just ahead of her was not a savage or a churl. He was a man of immense integrity, courage, compassion, and intelligence. Except for his cousin, he was close and intensely loyal to his family, people, and lands. He lived his religion every day, beginning with prayer. He was more than worthy of his ranks as the chief’s son, a Sacred Bow Carrier, and a small-band leader. He was a warrior of great prowess, a superior figher and protector. He was handsome and virile, strong and gentle. He was the epitome of what she wanted, needed, and admired in a man. She could not deny that she desired him, yet, she could not, must not again, forget he was beyond her reach, as painful as that reality was, and no matter that he might also feel the same way about her, however reluctant he was to admit that fact. Have him, she could not. Except in her dreams…

  War Eagle was thinking and feeling much the same as Caroline, whom he could not seem to force from his heart and thoughts, hard as he tried. She embodied everything he wanted, needed, and desired in a female. She was beautiful and alluring, and she possessed countless good traits. She had an appealing mixture of strength and gentleness. He enjoyed being with her, talking with her, watching her, hearing her, smelling her, tasting her. She made every part of him come alive with excitement and joy. He could not deny he loved and desired her.

  But she was white; he, Red Shield, the future chief if death stalked and overtook Wind Dancer. Even if Caroline dressed, spoke, and lived as an Oglala, the colors of her sunny hair, sky eyes, and pale skin would shout that truth to everyone who looked upon her. She was viewed as one of the enemy, a captive, a woman out of his reach; those facts angered and frustrated him as a man who had never feared or hesitated to challenge even seemingly impossible odds and risks in battles, raids, or in contests with fellow warriors.

  He must not allow either of them to show such bittersweet weaknesses before his people, especially before Two Feathers, who might seek to shame him to the point of dissension or lethal conflict. The motive for that sudden spitefulness, he did not know. Hard as it would be, he must ignore and evade her. From this sun forth, he vowed, she could come to him only in his dreams…

  Upon their return to camp and without saying a word or even glancing at each other, a cautious War Eagle left an equally discreet Caroline at Cloud Chaser’s tepee with Dawn. Both knew they were being observed by people who were curious about her departure and surprising return with him.

  Afterward, he handed the three horses’ tethers to a young brave who had hurried forward to take the animals for tending, a way of showing honor to their chief’s son and practicing the Virtue of Generosity for when the youth became a full-fledged warrior. Without delay, War Eagle went to meet with his father, brothers, and grandfather.

  After the five men gathered in Rising Bear’s tepee and Winona and Hanmani gave them privacy, War Eagle revealed the stirring events that happened during his absence and his motive for leaving camp with the white female, only omitting his private feelings for her. The shaman nodded in accord when he related the elderly man’s advice before his departure. “After the Fire Arrow struck down the tree and blocked my path, I felt it was a sign to turn back as Grandfather told me to look for when I spoke with him before leaving with her.”

  “To return was wise, my grandson. You have done well to see and obey His will,” Nahemana praised him. “The Great Spirit has not shown me the reason, but my heart and mind tell me He has placed her among us for good purpose. The Great One has spoken; she is to remain with us.”

  A disturbed Rising Bear asked, “Why does Two Feathers crave her so fiercely when he hates whites? Why does he seek to shame you and to injure Cloud Chaser? After my second son proved himself to us during the last hot season, a truce was made between them. Why has he broken it?”

  War Eagle shook his head and responded, “I do not know, Father, but his hatred for Cloud Chaser has returned, if such bad feelings ever left his heart and head. Perhaps he insults me and craves the captive in an attempt to harm my second brother in a sly way. When he saw me return and walk to your tepee, he followed me in anger. It is not our way to quarrel among families or with our people or to go against the council’s vote, which was for her to stay with us unless the Great Spirit said otherwise. Two Feathers does not honor those ways, but he will not tell me or Cloud Chaser why he feels and acts as he does.”

  “That is true, Father,” Cloud Chaser concurred. He related the many conflicts and harsh talks with his cousin following Caroline’s arrival. “Even she senses there is trouble i
n him and questioned me about it. She fears the manner in which he watches her. She has worked hard for me and my family, and she shows no hatred or disrespect toward us or our people.”

  “That is true, Father,” War Eagle said. “She begged me not to bring her back to our camp, as she feared we would be attacked for her rescue. She has many good feelings for Cloud Chaser, Dawn, Casmu, and others who have been friendly to her and she does not want them harmed or slain because of her presence among us.”

  “And she helped you defeat Black Fist,” Wind Dancer noted.

  “I will talk with Two Feathers,” Nahemana decided aloud, “for he will not speak falsely to a shaman, the Great Spirit’s sacred messenger. If he is bold and evil enough to try to deceive me, I will see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. This conflict must end before it causes trouble for our people. I will tend this task soon, after I pray for guidance.”

  “That is good,” Rising Bear agreed with the shaman’s idea.

  War Eagle motioned to items lying near him and said, “I give you the weapons and horse from our fallen enemy, my father. I will ask Mother to place the Crow’s hair lock on my war shirt.”

  “I thank you for these gifts, my son. Your battle with Black Fist was brave and cunning; he will no longer raid us or slay our people or our allies.”

  War Eagle asked his family, “Was it wrong to give the white girl his knife and sheath?”

  “No,” Rising Bear replied, “for she earned them with her courage, help, and cunning. Perhaps she saved your life; perhaps that is why she was sent to us and why you were evoked to leave camp with her. Your skills are many, but if you had been alone and he sneaked up on you, you could be lost to us this sun. I thank the Great Spirit for your life and her help.”

  Wind Dancer said, “It is good for Grandfather to settle the conflict between Cloud Chaser and Two Feathers, for danger rides toward us at a swift pace. While you were gone, my brother, a messenger from Red Cloud came to us with bad news. Agent Twiss, who took the place of Broken-Hand Fitzpatrick after he joined his Creator, has sent word to the bands of all Lakota tribes saying White War Chief Harney will reach Fort Kearny in a few suns, then ride into our lands. Twiss warned all Lakotas who are good and want peace with the whites to move their camps to the other side of the Kampeskawakpa, the flowing waters they call Platte River. Those who do not move will be viewed as enemies, ‘hostiles,’ and will be attacked.”