Early the next morning, Bright Arrow approached her. “It is time to begin my journey home. I will enter the sweat lodge and purify myself. I will go to the hilltop for many nights to seek guidance from Grandfather. When I return, I must leave. Do you have words to speak?”
“If the council says no, send word to me. I will wait for one full moon for you to change their minds. Then I will agree to live in Windrider’s tepee. Go, and be happy, Bright Arrow,” she encouraged him.
Her implication was lost on him. “I will pray for Grandfather to give me answers,” Bright Arrow said. “I will pray for him to show me the right path.” He kissed her on the forehead, then left her side.
Near the edge of camp stood a ceremonial lodge that reminded Rebecca of a large beehive sliced in half. The small hut was constructed of supple cottonwood saplings covered snuggly with buffalo hides to shut out light and to trap the steam. The purification ceremony that warriors underwent there was the first step in a lengthy, possibly dangerous, ritual; it was the next step in Bright Arrow’s quest for rebirth into his old life.
She walked to the last circle of tepees and watched Bright Arrow and the shaman bend to enter the sweat lodge. The medicine chief came out with Bright Arrow’s moccasins and breechclout, leaving him naked to face his ordeal. The shaman went to a campfire where rocks were heating, and he carefully examined them. Then he checked his supply of water bags and sweet grasses. When all was ready, he left to call Bright Arrow’s helper.
Rebecca’s eyes widened as she saw Windrider return with the medicine chief and White Antelope. Just before he entered the sweat lodge, Windrider saw her standing there. He nodded a greeting, then vanished inside to join Bright Arrow. The two Cheyenne warriors’ garments were passed outside to the shaman. He folded them and placed them next to Bright Arrow’s beside the entrance. Rebecca was bewildered. She wanted to know when Windrider had returned home, where he had been, and why he hadn’t made his presence known.
The Shaman passed several rocks into the hut as he sang a special chant. He handed White Antelope, the helper, a bag of water, then closed the flap, sealing the three men in near darkness. Rebecca could hear melodious voices singing and praying inside the hut. She watched the shaman as he tended the fire and prepared to pass more hot rocks to White Antelope as they were needed to keep the hut filled with steam. The men would remain there until midday. She fretted over this ceremony. From past experiences, she knew how weak a body could get from excessive sweating and a loss of precious body fluids. Then to go into the hills to sit for days without food and water was even more perilous. No wonder a man needed great stamina and strength to survive! She turned her back on the hut and slowly walked away.
Inside the lodge, White Antelope had stacked the rocks in a pile in the center. He poured water over them, creating steam which surrounded the three men. They inhaled the cloudy breath of the Great Spirit as they swayed to and fro chanting and praying to be worthy of this rite. The ceremony continued, with the shaman passing fiery rocks and water to White Antelope when necessary.
No words could be exchanged among them once the ceremony had begun. But upon his entrance, Windrider had made one statement. He had told Bright Arrow, “We started this search for peace and new life together, and I must remain at your side until you have found them.”
As the day grew warmer, the August sun beat down on the small structure with its full strength; the heat and humidity inside the dark hut would have been unbearable for weaker men. Steam mixed with sweat on their naked bodies and trickled down them in tiny rivulets. The furry mats upon which they sat cross-legged were soaked. Wet hair clung to necks, faces, shoulders, and backs. Faces were flushed, and breathing was labored. Still they sat and chanted as if nothing was sapping their energy.
Around noon, Rebecca slipped into the forest and made her way toward the sweat lodge. She concealed herself to observe the action. Although women did not perform this ritual or enter the sweat lodge, it was not a crime to observe a male between the stages of his rite. There was no secrecy about this practice, but it was carried out in a reverent manner. However, due to her modesty and desire for privacy, Rebecca didn’t want to be seen observing this break in the ritual, as two other naked males would be present with her love. She wanted to know if her love had survived the demanding ritual with enough endurance to take the next step of his spiritual journey and if Windrider was going with Bright Arrow on the vision quest.
The shaman removed the buffalo hides from the side away from the camp. The men emerged, naked and soaked. They stretched and flexed powerful bronze frames, then dried themselves with the aid of the hot sun and sweet grasses mixed with sage. Rebecca scolded herself for spying on the naked men, but her mind was absorbed by thoughts of things other than their powerful and manly bodies. Even so, Rebecca did not remove her intrigued gaze from that meaningful sight. Her attention was held by her love and the stamina he visibly displayed.
The men dressed in moccasins and breechclouts. White Antelope moved toward his tepee, his part in this ritual complete. The shaman, Bright Arrow, and Windrider mounted horses and rode from camp. She wished she could follow them and observe their vision quest, as it also affected her destiny. Once those men were under the spell of the quest and were weakened from lack of food, sleep, and water, there was no guessing what they would experience; there was no speculating on what they would think the Great Spirit was saying to them! Even if it were only an illusion produced by self-induced behavior and a drug, they would believe and accept their fanciful delusions; they would act on them—no matter what.
As Rebecca returned to her chores, she realized she had almost ignored Windrider’s presence at the sweat lodge. How was that possible when he had been totally naked! She recalled the many days and nights they had been thrown together, times when she had been powerfully and helplessly attracted to the Cheyenne warrior. Somewhere in the back of her mind she had noticed him today. When she closed her eyes, she could view both men in a mental image. She had to admit there was no stark contrast between them any longer, though Windrider possessed a coppery body of beauty and strength that could draw any female’s eyes to it. Was it so wrong to admire such special appeal? Besides, it was Bright Arrow who stirred her passions to uncontrollable flames. She warmed inwardly as she envisioned him flexing his muscular body outside the lodge.
The two warriors and the shaman rode toward a lofty hill miles away from camp. Leaving their horses at its base, the two vision seekers climbed the rocky slope and looked around them, pleased with the shaman’s choice. For the Great Spirit to see the warrior who was seeking his vision, he had to be in full view on the top of a secluded hill. They had ridden nearly two hours to find this perfect spot. Because both had been deeply ensnared by thoughts of this mental and spiritual quest, they had not spoken along the journey. Now, as they realized the sun had reached its height three hours past, they knew it was time to begin the second leg of their journey toward truth, courage, and honor.
The shaman placed four stakes in the ground, one for each direction of the sacred medicine wheel. He secured a rawhide rope to one, then ran it to the next one, continuing until the rope formed a square large enough to contain two men in sitting positions. He placed two animals skins on the dry earth and hung sweet grass, sage, magic charms, and bits of cloth on the rope. He instructed Windrider and Bright Arrow to step inside the enclosure and be seated, facing eastward. When they complied, he handed each an eagle-bone whistle. He placed a dried cactus button on the edge of each sitting mat, then covered it with the corner. The peyote could not be eaten until the body was ready to receive it. The shaman prayed, calling on Wakantanka and other spirits to protect and guide these warriors along their journey to a vision quest. He left them to tend the horses, then made camp at the foot of the hill and waited patiently.
It was dusk. Windrider and Bright Arrow blew on the whistles to guide the Great Spirit to their location. The sun set behind them, creating a glow on the horizon tha
t slowly faded into night. They chanted and prayed, waiting for a sign from the Great Spirit. Night passed into morning, and with it came the blazing ordeal of the summer sun. Sweat glistened on their coppery frames and ran down to soak into the thirsty earth. Their lips and throats were dry. No soothing breeze stirred all day. Their bodies were rigid and muscles were taut. Still they did not move. Hunwi revealed her glowing visage once more; she had passed her fullness and was seeking a halfmoon shape. Slowly she moved across the night sky.
The sun once again appeared to lighten the face of Mother Earth. He gradually climbed beyond snowy clouds to stand high in the blue heaven overhead. Reddish brown flesh was wet; hair was soaked. Lips and throats pleaded for water that could not be consumed. Eyes burned and teared from the heat and brilliance of the sun and the sandy-colored earth. Salty sweat rolled into the corners of two sets of dark eyes; sooty lashes blinked rapidly to combat the stinging sensations. Hairless chests and faces glistened with moisture. Bodies were stiff; muscles were cramped. They had kept their vow of silence; they had not looked at each other. Their trial by the elements continued into the night.
The radiant ball of light appeared once more before heavy eyes. Their self-inflicted agonies would continue a third day and a fourth night. The men did not sweat as much this day, for their bodies had lost much lifes-ustaining fluid. They were exhausted. Hunger had given way to a dull ache just above the waist. Both men swayed in the heat from weakness. The sun burned hotter and fiercer today, but, at last, twilight fell over them. Their dazed minds began to wander. By midnight, it was time to use the peyote.
As if by some mystical signal, both men placed the peyote buttons in their mouths at the same time. Soon this ritual would succeed or fail. By morning, both men would have had their visions, or they would return to camp to seek the reason for their failure. A short time passed. Colorful lights and fuzzy images flickered across both minds. The peyote was strong and quick. From the mental merging of their deepest dreams, darkest desires, countless experiences, varied thoughts, and warring emotions, hallucinations formed. The illusions came and went as the men helplessly endured the power of the drug. Hours passed as they were assailed by sights and sounds that lived and labored both men’s turbulent minds. Despite their helpless states, no enemy dared to attack a warrior who was visiting the world of the Great Spirit. The only danger to Windrider and Bright Arrow lay in death from within themselves.
Windrider’s peyote wore off first. He watched and listened to Bright Arrow as he remained ensnared by the sacred button. He knew it was forbidden to interfere, to make suggestions. Yet, he thought, perhaps Grandfather awoke him first to be His helper. He knew a man most remembered the last images and sounds in his vision. Should he say words that would command Bright Arrow down the path that would be most advantageous to himself?…
By dawn, both men were free of their drug-induced states. The shaman returned. He asked if either man needed his vision interpreted. Bright Arrow and Windrider looked at each other, then shook their heads. The shaman gave them water and dried jerky. He told them to rest and refresh themselves before the journey home.
Bright Arrow glanced over at his weary friend. He said, “I must tell you of my vision, but the words will come later. I am tired and thirsty. Grandfather has told me how to reclaim my destiny.”
Windrider didn’t have to ask any questions. Bright Arrow’s tone and expression answered all of them. “I must tell Bright Arrow of my vision,” he stated. “You will not wish to hear such words. Rebecca is no longer part of your destiny; she belongs in my life-circle,” he stated tensely.
Bright Arrow nodded in comprehension and acceptance. “I saw many times and places in my vision. She was not with me. Danger approaches our lands; I must leave for many days to prevent it. When I return, I will tell her of Grandfather’s message.” His voice was strained as he entreated painfully, “While I follow the commands of Grandfather, seek to pull her into your life and tepee. It is clear why Grandfather sent you to recall my feet to my lands. My rebirth and quest must be shared by you. My woman must be given to you.”
Bright Arrow, Windrider, and the medicine chief returned to the Cheyenne camp at mid-afternoon. They had eaten the meat prepared by the shaman, then had bathed in the waters which soothed their fiery flesh. They had consumed the necessary fluids to replace those lost during their ordeal and had rested and restored their energy and strength. It was time to ask for a council meeting so they could relate their visions. They approached Chief Yellow Robe’s tepee and asked permission to enter.
Yellow Robe listened to their words, then sent for the ceremonial chief. He instructed him to call the council together after dusk and the evening meal. The shaman left to prepare himself for his part in the ritual, and the two warriors headed for Windrider’s tepee.
Sucoora greeted them with a broad smile and told the men Rebecca was fetching water from the river. Bright Arrow and Windrider exchanged expressions which piqued Sucoora’s curiosity. Windrider told his wife they were going to speak with White Antelope and Shooting Star. They would return at the evening meal. He informed her of the council meeting later that night. During this exchange, Bright Arrow remained pensive and silent.
As they were departing, Windrider instructed, “On the new sun, prepare food for a long journey. Bright Arrow and Windrider must leave for many moons. You will care for the children and Rebecca. Shooting Star and White Antelope will bring game to my tepee and protect all who live in it. Ask no questions; this is for the minds of men.”
When Rebecca entered the tepee, Sucoora hurriedly revealed the bewildering news. Long journey? Rebecca’s mind echoed. The Oglala Sioux camp was only four days’ ride from the Cheyenne camp; that wasn’t considered a long trip in these parts. “They didn’t tell you where they’re going or why? she inquired. When Sucoora shook her head, Rebecca frowned in dismay. What was the big secret? Why hadn’t Bright Arrow looked for her?
At the evening meal, both men seemed preoccupied. Rebecca was nettled by their silence and seeming unconcern. Neither offered a single clue about their impending plans or a single fact about their vision quests. She was provoked by their aloof manner. It seemed neither one dared to meet her probing gaze, as if fearing she might read a secret message written there! Yet her pride stubbornly refused to allow her to press them for information. She could behave just as indifferently. How she wished she were not dependent on either man! If she lived somewhere besides this perilous wilderness, she wouldn’t be!
Sometimes it was so difficult to be a woman, she mused inwardly. Women were expected to do their chores without question or hesitation. Women were told little of men’s affairs. Women couldn’t fend for themselves. Women had no say about where they lived or how they existed. Women had no say about laws; they couldn’t even attend meetings.
A woman alone was a death sentence or a sentence to a life of whorish degradation for survival. A man could come and go as he pleased, without explanations or judgments. A single woman could not partake of the pleasures of the flesh without soiling her name; yet a single man could enjoy as many women as he desired! A woman alone was a bright target for men to aim at and attack. She could go nowhere and do nothing unless a man went along or gave permission. A single woman was the property of her father, brother, or male kin until she became the property of a husband or owner.
A married woman was invisibly chained to her home, husband, and children. She was little more than a wedded slave! She had no rights or freedom. She had no adventures or excitement. Life for her was one endless series of labors, or one unceasing task of putting others before herself. Was it so wrong to be selfish from time to time? she wondered.
Rebecca was trapped between two valiant warriors who wanted her. One believed he possessed a claim to her, but he did not. One wanted to stake a claim on her, seemingly with her mate’s permission. Both were leaving in one day; yet neither felt he owed her an explanation! She was expected to sit and wait for her life to be settled
by other forces and people, sit patiently and calmly! Neither man had a right to her without her consent. She might just shock both of them by departing alone! she decided. Then she recalled how helpless she had been when Bright Arrow had captured her and again when Lester and Jess had attacked her cabin. She admitted angrily that she was no match for any man, unless she killed him. Even if she escaped to a white settlement, what kind of existence would she face there? She irritably scoffed to herself, If warriors can have more than one wife, why can’t I have more than one lover? Yet invading thoughts of Bright Arrow and the rapture she had found in his arms belied her angry musings.
After telling the children a story and singing them a song, Rebecca put the girls on their sleeping mats. She glanced over at Sucoora who was doing the same with Kajihah’s children. A pang of anguish and doubt chewed at her. The children hadn’t asked for their mother, hadn’t seemed to care that she was gone forever! Had Kajihah meant so little to them? Did Sucoora feel as much their mother as Kajihah? She recalled Bright Arrow telling her that a child was reared by many people, including an adopted set of parents, to avoid spoiling the child or to prevent excessive anguish if the real parents were slain or died. He had told her it helped the child feel more a part of the whole tribe, which was vital for loyalty and unselfishness. She wondered if this would happen with her girls when Bright Arrow took them away.
In the ceremonial lodge, the council was meeting to hear the news from Windrider and Bright Arrow. The council and warriors made a circle around the campfire, sitting cross-legged on small mats a few feet from it. The medicine chief sang and danced around the fire as he shook a gourd rattle. Another warrior beat on a skincovered drum with a thick-ended stick, as Indians never touched the drum with their hands. The shaman offered prayers of supplication and gratitude to the Great Spirit, then tossed sweet grasses and “magical” powders into the small blaze. It burst into radiance for a brief moment, then settled down to a soft glow. Gray smoke swirled upward, vanishing out the air flap. The ceremonial pipe was stuffed with sacred tobacco, passed around, and smoked twice by each man present. All were careful not to drop it to the earth.
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