Lakota Flower

by Janelle Taylor

At midday when Macha returned to nurse and cuddle her son, Caroline observed a scene between husband and wife that was similar to the one she had witnessed earlier. Although she was not included in their exchange of words during that hasty visit, Macha did thank her and smiled.

  Caroline sensed the woman was becoming more worried and frightened for Chumani with the passing of every hour. She was asked—not ordered—by Cloud Chaser to continue her “good and kind” care of their son until Macha’s task was finished. Caroline deduced it was a bad sign that the baby remained in the womb this long, especially being a second child. Although she had no child of her own, she empathized with Dewdrops, who must be scared and exhausted after laboring unsuccessfully for many hours. She liked Wind Dancer’s wife, who had been amiable and courteous to her. She prayed again for the woman’s safety, and for the struggling infant who could not seem to find a way or the strength to enter this world.

  When Macha arrived in late afternoon to nurse her son, Caroline felt compelled to inquire about Wind Dancer’s wife and child, telling them how much she liked Chumani and was concerned about the delay in birth. Cloud Chaser told her the baby refused to leave its mother’s body, though the top of its head had been showing since that morning. Since Nahemana was far from camp on a vision quest, the shaman—who knew much about medicine ways—could not provide advice or send forth prayers and healing chants.

  Caroline told him, “I would be honored to take Dawn’s place so she can feed Casmu and get some rest before she collapses from exhaustion. In the white man’s world, Cloud Chaser, a doctor sometimes makes a cut in a woman’s private region to allow a large baby to come forth, if that is the problem. Since its head is showing, it isn’t positioned wrong in the womb. If things continue like this much longer, both Dewdrops and the child could die, will probably die, or suffer great injuries. I’ve seen many babies being born on our plantation and I’ve helped my mother deliver a few of them. When a baby couldn’t get free of its mother’s body, we summoned the doctor and he did the special cutting and sewing while I assisted him. It worked every time. Also, my mother’s father was a doctor; he allowed me to watch him work on the sick and injured many times, even help out on occasion. I learned a great deal about medicine and surgery from him.”

  Cloud Chaser eyed the white woman intently and decided she was being honest. “Can you do this cutting and sewing to save their lives?”

  Caroline wondered what would happen to her if she failed and both died or suffered painful complications or received permanent injures. She could be slain, could be horribly tortured before death. She recalled that her maternal grandfather had been murdered by a crazed drunk after his wife’s death following surgery, for which the man had granted permission after it was too late to save her. Even her grandmother had been killed when she went to her husband’s aid. “I think I can,” she murmured in brief panic, then vanquished her cowardice. “No, I’m certain I can do it. I have a small medical kit in my satchel;.it belonged to Grandfather. It contains what I need. Except for a scalpel, so I’ll need a sharp knife. The blade should be sterilized in a hot flame and then cooled in clean water.”

  Cloud Chaser studied Caroline again before he decided she could be right and was capable of performing that unusual task. After having spent twelve years in the white man’s world, he knew about their good medicines and healing skills. But could he convince his brother about their powers and persuade him to trust her with the lives of his two loved ones? “I will speak with Wind Dancer. If he agrees, I will return for you.”

  Caroline was pleased and even surprised by Cloud Chaser’s favorable reaction, but winning over Wind Dancer would be harder, if at all possible. Too, the chief and/or his wife could object and prevent her assistance. Or Chumani could refuse the strange and painful procedure. In the event Cloud Chaser succeeded, she should ready her kit and herself. She looked at Macha, who was nursing Casmu, and said she was going to be excused. She saw the weary woman look up, smile, and nod permission.

  Caroline left the tepee and walked toward the dense forest nearby. Before she entered the tree line, War Eagle approached her.

  “Tuktelyati hwo?” he asked just to hear her voice and to view her face, then repeated his query in English. “Where you go?”

  She halted, looked at him, and said with pinkening cheeks, “Leja.”

  He nodded and said, “I stay here. Let no one come to forest.”

  As she warmed from being near him and experiencing his kindness, Caroline thanked him for guarding her privacy and hurried into concealment. She thought it unwise to stop and talk with him or even smile at him in public, so she merely glanced his way and thanked him again in passing. She returned to the tepee, fetched her satchel, retrieved her soap, and scrubbed her hands. She withdrew the medical kit, undid its fasteners, and checked the contents, feeling relieved she had brought it.

  She turned toward the entry when she heard footsteps there and saw Cloud Chaser returning alone, and assumed his family had refused her help.

  “Wind Dancer says he does not know about such female things, but he begs you to save his wife and child if you possess such magic and skill. I will take you there,” he said as Hanmani entered the tepee. Cloud Chaser looked at Macha and asked in their language, “Do you want to remain here or do you want my sister to keep Casmu while you join Winona and Caroline?”

  Macha replied, “I will go to help them with Dewdrops.”

  Caroline did not grasp all of those Lakota words, but she heard the names mentioned and wondered why Cloud Chaser had not said “ina,” for my mother, when he spoke of Winona. That seemed strange to her, but she lacked the time to ponder that mystery as Cloud Chaser told her to follow him and Macha, which she did, carrying the precious medical kit.

  When they reached the other tepee, Caroline saw Wind Dancer waiting for them outside where he had a fire going and a knife resting on a flat rock with its blade in the flames. From his hunkered position, he looked up at her, studied her as intently as Cloud Chaser had done earlier, then took a deep breath before he stood and faced her.

  “You possess large medicine magic and healing skills?”

  Caroline responded, “I know many of them, Wind Dancer. I believe I can deliver the baby and save their lives. I pray I have not waited too long to offer my help, but I feared it would not be accepted and would anger you.”

  The future chief nodded understanding. “The knife is ready.”

  Noting how well he spoke English, she said, “Cool it in the fresh water and give it to me.” She also was aware that Chumani spoke good English, having learned it from a white trapper before she met and married Wind Dancer. That would make it easier to give her explanation, instructions, and comfort. No doubt she and Cloud Chaser were the ones who had taught the others to speak it, and—for some reason—War Eagle was learning more of it fast, though it may have nothing to do with her. She put aside thoughts of her heart’s desire to concentrate on the hazardous problem at hand.

  Caroline took the knife by its elk-horn handle, sent Wind Dancer an encouraging smile, ducked her head, and entered the tepee. She glanced back and saw Macha lower the flap and lace it in place for privacy, though the interior was stuffy. At least the opening at the dwelling’s peak allowed some fresh air to enter and some hot air to escape. Her gaze went to Chumani, who was on her knees beside a sturdy stake that had been driven into the ground. During a contraction, Chumani gripped it and bore down hard to expel the child. As Chumani struggled in vain, Caroline saw her bite on a stick. She surmised that action was supposed to prevent screams and to calm tensions. She noted a carved wooden bowl with steaming water, sweet grasses, and herbs of some kind, which held several more sticks being readied for use when needed.

  Caroline smiled and nodded a greeting to the watchful Winona before she approached Chumani. She knelt beside the woman, whose anxious gaze met hers. “I have come to help, Dewdrops. What I must do will hurt, but it will allow your child to escape your body. You must lie on
your sleeping mat for me to do my tasks.”

  “I will lie on a blanket to not stain our sleeping mat. Use your magic and skills to save our child,” Chumani urged, her dark eyes teary and puffy and their white areas red-streaked from too many hours without sleep.

  “Tell Winona to get the blanket, for I do not speak your language well enough and might say the wrong words.” She waited while Chumani spoke with Winona, who fetched and spread a blanket on the ground in the tepee’s center. After Chumani lay down on her back and her garment was lifted to her breasts, Caroline placed items she would use on a clean white petticoat that she had brought with her. Chumani told her the unused deerskin nearby was for catching the baby and wrapping it in following its birth.

  Caroline was compelled to wait awhile before taking action because another fierce contraction seized the woman who strained, grunted, and bit hard on the treated stick, failing once more to achieve victory. During those difficult minutes, Caroline recalled she had been told that before Chumani joined Wind Dancer, she had been a warrior and hunter for her people. Cloud Chaser had said the mate of his brother possessed much courage and prowess. Riding at her husband’s side against both Indian and white foes, she had done many glorious and daring deeds for his band, risking her life and captivity many times during those great adventures. Chumani had been honored with the name and rank of “Vision Woman,” for her coming and coups had been foretold in one of Nahemana’s sacred visions years ago; then, were fulfilled. Even so, Caroline observed that presently Chumani was shaky, pale, sweaty, weakened, fatigued, and frightened. She knelt between the woman’s parted and raised thighs, quelling embarrassment because the situation was serious. Indeed the top of the infant’s head was showing, which meant it was trapped in the birth canal and had been so for a long time. “I must use my hand to learn what is wrong, but I will be careful,” she told Chumani, who nodded permission and braced herself.

  As gently as possible, Caroline inserted two clean fingers to examine the child’s crown and hopefully to surmise the problem. It was evident the baby’s head was large and Chumani’s flesh refused to stretch or even tear to give it enough space to exit. “Did Wind Dancer tell you what I must do so the baby can escape your body?”

  “My husband said you must use a knife to free our child. He said you must sew up the cut you make as I sew two skins together. It will hurt, but I will bite the stick. I will be still and silent. Do what must be done.”

  “I must tell you, Dewdrops, when a baby’s head is trapped for so long in this way, it has a … strange shape when the child is freed. Do not be afraid or worried, for it will change before the next full moon. It may be tepee-shaped for some time, but it will soon become round,” Caroline explained, choosing words she hoped Chumani understood, and knowing the moon had been full only a few nights ago. When Macha lifted Chumani’s head after the woman nodded and gave her something to drink, Caroline asked what it was and hoped it wasn’t some unknown herb that was slowing delivery.

  Chumani swallowed ad said, “Willow bark to help soften the pain.”

  From days with her grandfather, Caroline was familiar with willow bark tea treatment so she relaxed. “Are you ready to do this task?”

  Chumani took a deep breath and nodded. She replaced the softened stick between her teeth and ordered herself to stay motionless and quiet. Never had she been so afraid and uncertain in her life, not even during the many daring rides she had made against their enemies four summers past. She closed her eyes and prayed for her child’s survival, even if that victory demanded the sacrifice of her life, though she also prayed it would not.

  Caroline lifted the knife, slipped her fingers between the child’s head and mother’s body, and was amazed how easily and quickly the reddened flesh gave way with the sharp blade. Blood ran forth but she could not use the alum powder as a styptic at that point, as it could get into the child’s eyes, nose, or mouth. She laid aside the knife and, when a contraction started, told Chumani, “Push hard, Dewdrops; the opening is larger now.”

  It required only one more contraction and bearing down for the baby’s imprisoned head to find freedom. As she had witnessed doctors doing, with haste and care, Caroline removed the torn veil and wiped the infant’s eyes and mouth with a cloth ripped from her petticoat. Without much delay and with another determined push from Chumani, Caroline caught its slick body as it almost gushed forth in eagerness to show itself at last.

  After she placed the newborn on Chumani’s warm frame, Caroline moved aside so Winona could take over to cut the umbilical cord in a certain way as was their custom, and as she had been told to do by Cloud Chaser as they approached Wind Dancer’s tepee. As she awaited the passing of the afterbirth, Caroline watched the older woman leave several inches of the lifeline attached to the baby, then strap it down to the newborn’s stomach using a leather strip around its waist until the excess fell off. After showing the girl to Chumani, Winona took the infant aside to clean and bundle it.

  As soon as the placenta was expelled, Macha cut off the remaining umbilical cord and laid it on a piece of bark so Winona could prepare it in their custom. She placed the afterbirth in a pouch and laced it snug, as it would be buried later in the forest and covered with heavy rocks by Winona, to be reclaimed by Mother Nature, who was thanked for the use of that gift.

  Caroline used fresh water and strips from her petticoat to bathe and dry Chumani’s loins. She removed a cork stopper from a small glass vial and sprinkled white alum powder on the incision to halt the bleeding so she could see to insert the stitches. She chose the curved wire needle instead of the straight one and prepared it with the Chinese suture thread that was called “silver wire 1/4 ounce silk.” She held up the needle and allowed Chumani to view it while explaining what she was about to do. “I will work as fast and gently as I can, Dewdrops, but it will hurt and I must be careful to do it right. The loops I’ll make are called stitches; they remain in your body for seven suns while the cut heals. On the eighth sun, I cut the ties and remove the hahunta,” she said, using the Indian word for thread.

  As soon as she nodded comprehension and permission, Chumani braced herself for the piercings of the tiny and sharp-pointed bow. As the white woman did her task, Chumani thought of the cuttings and piercings her husband had received on his chest from the shaman’s knife and the eagle’s talons in preparation of his Sun Dance ritual. She winced at the pain, but did not jerk or flinch. This event was something she must endure with courage and prowess, even gratitude for what it had achieved. Her child was alive and safe, and soon she would be healed. To distract herself from the prickings and tuggings, she watched Macha tend her daughter, who was crying now, a joyous sound to her ears. She hoped her beloved husband was close enough to detect those cries, as they would tell Wind Dancer their baby had been born thanks to Caroline. And thanks to his brother for capturing the white girl and bringing her to their camp. Already Caroline had helped save War Eagle’s life and now had saved that of this precious little one nearby. Mutely she prayed to the Great Spirit who had enabled such events to happen and such blessings to be received.

  Chumani’s gaze traveled to a humming Winona, who had prepared the cord with preserving herbs and other things from nature. She watched the child’s grandmother coil and insert the umbilical cord inside a leather tortoise that—as was the custom—Winona had made for the baby to wear around its belly until age two, when it would be attached somewhere on its clothing. A second leather creature—a sand lizard—would be secured in full view on the cradle-board to dupe any evil spirit who might try to steal the child’s lifeline, as a sand lizard was fast and cunning and difficult to catch.

  She saw her husband’s mother rock her body back and fort as she sewed shut the insertion opening along the edge of the tortoise’s shell. Her gaze returned to the white female as she murmured she was “almost finished.”

  Caroline clipped the length of silk thread following the last stitch. She washed her bloody hands in the water h
older nearby. She sprinkled on a little more styptic, then replaced the cork stopper. She put the needle into the water to wash it, planning to boil it later to thoroughly cleanse and sterilize it. She helped Chumani put on a female breechclout, inserting into its crotch a folded section of material from her petticoat that was filled with cattail down and crushed buffalo chips to absorb the blood that would flow for a few days. Then, Chumani was assisted to her sleeping mat.

  As Caroline completed her tasks, Macha cleaned up the birthing area. Her work finished, she praised Caroline for her skills and bragged about Chumani and the infant before she left to tell Wind Dancer and the others the good news. Afterward, she would tend her son and get needed nourishment and long-awaited sleep. Besides, her best friend since childhood would be eager to visit Dewdrops, as Hanmani must present her with a cradle-board, for it was the custom for sisters of the parents to make it. Dewdrops had no sister, so Hanmani had made cradle-boards for the children of both brothers. Such a deed was done to show a sister’s love, respect, and pride toward the parents, and to display her many skills.

  Chumani lay on her right side, smiling and teary eyed as she looked at her baby, who was nestled against her. Her fingers tenderly stroked the girl’s pudgy face and thick dark hair. Her gaze roamed the infant’s large head, which did have a conical appearance. She recalled Caroline had said it would go away soon, and she believed the woman who had wrought this magic.

  She looked at the white captive, who was watching them and smiling. “You are a good woman, Caroline,” she said. “I thank you for this gift of life. You will be called a friend by me and my husband. When I am healed and strong again, “I will make you a gift of thanks. This daughter will be named Inunpa, for she came Second to me and my husband.” Before anyone could speak, Chumani jested, “I would call her Comes Hard or Friend Brings Her, but her name was chosen many full moons past if she entered this land as a female.”