Macha and Chase exchanged smiles, their eyes meeting as they glanced around to view the wonderful and unexpected episode. Each sensed what the other must be experiencing. Now that their union had been blessed by their families and people, they could hardly wait to be alone, truly and safely alone for the first time since their lives and bodies became as one. At last, everything seemed perfect and surely nothing could go wrong to cause problems for them.
On the sly, Wind Dancer studied his first cousin several times during the feast, and worry nibbled at him. He hoped and prayed his perceptions were wrong. To him, Two Feathers appeared to be watching the couple with a treacherous gleam in his eyes. The disgruntled man needed close observation in the suns ahead, he decided.
By dusk the following day, the Red Shield women—under the direction of Winona and Ohute—had constructed Chase and Macha their own tepee, their first home. Poles to form its shape had been cut, hauled, and prepared by skilled and eager hands; hides to cover them had been donated by many women from their stores. Many had sat in a circle to stitch them together while laughing and talking, then helped wrap them around the tall conical frame. Chumani and Zitkala had made the dewcloth to hang inside against those tanned skins for diverting rain, cold air, and smoke outside; for adding beauty to the home with the colorful designs upon its smooth surface; and for using its leather rope upon which to suspend possessions out of the way on limited floor space. Countless people had gifted them with items they would need for supplying it: sleeping hides, blankets for winter, sitting mats, willow and rush backrests, cooking and working tools, various storage pouches. Hanmani and Little Turtle had arranged those generous and thoughtful gifts in their proper places. Wind Dancer and Red Feather had painted Chase’s first coups upon its exterior. War Eagle had completed a new set of weapons just in time to mount them on the three-legged stand made for them by Swift Otter and River’s Edge.
While the people had worked, many in different shifts because of duties to their own families and the chores demanded by the annual hunting and tanning season, Chase had chatted and visited with the men honoring him while Macha had done the same with the women honoring her with their tasks. The couple had thanked people time and time again for their presents and assistance, only to be told they were much deserved and given with loving hearts and hands.
After everything was done, their parents, siblings, and grandparents guided the beaming couple to the abode and halted at its entrance. The shaman walked around the tepee while shaking a smoking cluster of special herbs and grasses to bless the dwelling, then wafted the gray haze over the people who would inhabit it. Following embraces and good wishes, Macha and Chase ducked and entered their first home to view its interior and contents while the others returned to theirs.
They strolled around hand-in-hand admiring the workmanship, beauty, and kindness of their people. At one spot and knowing they could not be seen since the flap faced the side of Wind Dancer’s tepee, they shared a joyful hug and a long and tender kiss.
Each was aware that their first real privacy loomed before them, and their bodies warmed to that reality. Yet, they knew that before they could surrender to the desires chewing at them, they must eat and await cooling night air when they could seal the flap.
When that long-awaited moment arrived, no fire was built in the rock circle which Hanmani had placed in the center of the tepee. They needed no light other than that of an obliging full moon which flowed down the wide span created by the ventilation gap. As if the Great Spirit was helping them, fresh air swept downward in gentle gusts and swirled around the interior, keeping them cool and comfortable. Others were inside their abodes at that hour; the shelter hides were thick and muffled sound well; and night had blanketed the land, so it was almost silent.
They stood near the tepee’s center and beside a sleeping mat where the romantic glow of nature’s light washed over them. For a short while, they simply looked into each other’s eyes. Then Chase’s mouth covered hers with a tender kiss, which Macha returned. Afterward, he kissed her forehead and the tip of her nose. Her palms flattened against his chest while his hands cupped her face and his thumbs stroked the soft skin near her parted lips. Macha sent her fingers to delve into hair as tawny as a doe hide which curled under at his nape, and he slid his into her long tresses and drew her head toward his.
His lips brushed over her mouth as he said, “You have captured my heart, Dawn, and enslaved me forever. If I did not know the truth, I would vow I am only dreaming about you as I did far away and long ago.”
“As would I, Cloud Chaser, but we are awake. Each time I am near you or think of you, I feel as if I have waited and yearned for you since you vanished so long ago. I somehow knew you would return to me.”
He looked at her radiant face and into her luminous gaze, moved deeply by her soul-thrilling words. “I love you, my cherished wife; and I am a whole man at last because of you.”
Macha unlaced his shirt ties and peeled the garment over his head. She waited in anticipation as he removed her fringed dress and let it slip from his fingers. He undid the side thongs of her breechclout and dropped it, and steadied her balance as she wriggled her feet to discard her moccasins.
Chase shucked his remaining garments and moccasins and pulled her into his arms as Macha looped hers around his neck. Their mouths united in a budding kiss which swiftly flowered into full-blown passion. They pressed together and shared numerous kisses as their naked bodies made blissful contact from head to feet.
Macha quivered like a blade of grass in a strong Lakota wind. She felt ignited to a roaring blaze by pleasure and suspense. Surely nothing and no one could make her happier than he did.
Time seemed to stand still and any reality beyond that tepee seemed to vanish as they explored each other’s bodies and hearts. Their kisses soon became hungry and greedy, as did their caresses.
Chase was almost staggered by the enthralling way she clung to him. He told himself he must move slow and gentle as he’d promised near Fort Laramie, but she was making self-control difficult with her ardent responses. He trailed kisses over her face. His mouth journeyed down her throat as she leaned back her head to give him access to her sweet flesh. He was elated and enflamed that he could so arouse her to heady desire for him. He nestled his face against her hair and relished the feel of it against his cheek. He drifted his hands up and down her back, and felt her ebony hair tease over his fingers during each trip upward.
Macha slipped her hands beneath his arms to rove his broad back, and felt the strength which dwelled there. His body was taut and well muscled and she enjoyed every inch of her explorations.
She groaned in pleasure as Chase’s hands wandered to her breasts and tantalized their already taut peaks to firmer points. When she grasped his manhood and stroked its full length, his embrace tightened and a low moan of intense emotion and need escaped his throat. They sank to the sleeping mat together.
Macha was awed by how delicious it felt to have him touching her breasts, kneading and stroking them. Her pleasure heightened when his tongue lavished hot moisture and teasing strokes there. The sensations he created were enormously arousing and she closed her eyes to absorb them. She had imagined their joining would be better with real privacy, but not as sensuously thrilling as it was proving to be.
Chase’s right hand ventured over her bare skin as far as he could reach without dislodging his mouth from her breast. She was beautiful and alluring. She had a firm and agile body, and every inch was an enchanting enticement. His hand drifted over her rib cage and stomach, caressing its way down to the warm moist flesh between her thighs, which he aroused with light and slow strokes at first, then with firmer and faster ones as her hips began to squirm and soft moans escaped her mouth.
Macha’s fingers played in her husband’s hair as he feasted at her breasts and drove her wild with his hand. A ravenous hunger gnawed at her, though she tried to relax and slow her pace, eager to experience all her beloved would show her.<
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Chase’s mouth traveled slowly back up to her lips as he moved atop her. He knew she was as eager to continue their journey as he was. With great care, he guided his manhood into her, then paused while he struggled to maintain self-control as her fingers pressed hard against his shoulder blades and she arched toward him. After he appeared to have mastered his surge of weakness, he thrust himself deeper within her, kissing and caressing her all the while. When her ankles overlapped his calves and she seemed to open and offer herself more to him, he penetrated her deeper and began a steady pattern of rocking to and fro.
Every movement he made seemed to increase Macha’s yearnings. Each time he moved within her, it was ecstasy. It was beautiful and special and natural to have their bodies joined as one, to have such powerful feelings racing through both of them, to discover such joy and unity. To her, it was a total sharing of themselves.
Their hearts pounded in joyful unison as they mentally and physically pledged themselves to each other as mates for life. Upward they climbed a sensual slope, urging their spirits skyward.
“Do I travel too fast, my love?” a near-breathless Chase asked.
Macha whispered for him to continue as she reached her precipice and toppled over it shortly before an enraptured Chase did the same.
Afterward they cuddled and shared light kisses as their bodies cooled and their pounding hearts slowed.
“I love you, Dawn, and you always please me greatly.”
Macha nestled into his embrace and rested her head on his shoulder. She sensed he was happy, calm, and connected to her, and she thrilled to each of those perceptions. “As I love you, my husband, for you please me in all ways, more than words can speak.”
Chase stroked her hair and warm flesh, both damp from their lovemaking and the summer heat. He savored the feel of her bare body against his, the way her arm rested over his chest and a knee over his thighs, the way she cuddled up to him, and her occasional dreamy sigh. He had no doubt she loved and desired him, only him, and forever. No man could be luckier or more blessed than he was on this glorious day. Now, all that loomed before him as awesome challenges were honoring his sacrificial vow to the Great Spirit and risky pledge to his family and people.
At sunrise, Chase stood at the edge of camp and stared at the sturdy and sacred cottonwood pole which had been embedded in the grassy heart of Mother Earth on the day before his arrival. Although it had been selected and cut down by women chosen by the shaman for that honorary task and prepared for two other braves for their sacrificial ritual today, it was as if the Great Spirit had timed his return so he could be a part of it as he had vowed many weeks ago. It was usually done at the end of summer and the seasonal buffalo hunt, but Nahemana and those braves had said it must be carried out on the day of the full moon as instructed in his visions and their dreams.
Chase recalled from boyhood observations how hazardous and painful—and often lethal—the ritual was. He could not help but feel apprehensive of that peril and torment; yet, he also was exhilarated and proud that his time to endure it had come.
He knew the ceremonial dancers had been chosen and had practiced their movements to prevent any errors and each had been assigned a special pattern and colors with which to paint their bodies for their roles. The preparatory Buffalo Dance had been done during his welcome feast two nights ago. He had not eaten or drunk anything this morning, as he must fast today. He knew his wife was worried about his participation in the Sun Dance ritual, for she also was aware of the dangers involved in it. Yet, Macha realized it was a crucial path he must walk, and without her beside him. Even so, before he left their tepee, she had clung to him, kissed him many times, and begged him with her eyes not to take such enormous risks. He had comforted her as best he could with words and embraces, but knew he had failed to assuage her fears. As he stood there, he prayed for the strength to obtain his new objective, and for the Great Spirit to guard his wife if he did not survive it.
Chase was joined by his brothers, who would share the purification rite and walk along with him and blow whistles for encouragement during the Sun Dance ritual. Soon, the other two partakers arrived. Together, the five men went to the sweat lodge nearby to take the second step along their spiritual journey, as the fast was considered to be the first. The shaman and two warriors waited there to assist with needed tasks. The five ducked and entered a hut shaped like a turtle’s shell; it was constructed of bowed willow branches and covered with thick buffalo hides.
The five men took their places on sitting mats which were arranged around a shallow pit. Heated rocks were brought inside and dumped in the depression; water was poured over them to create steam, mist believed to be the breath of Wakantanka, mist to cleanse their bodies of any evil and weakness. The hut was dark after the flap was sealed, and light entered only when it was pulled aside on occasion to add more hot rocks and water.
As a summer sun beat down on the snug shelter, it did not take long before sweltering heat and humidity filled it. As the men chanted, prayed, and sweated, they rubbed their wet skin with bunches of sage and sweet grasses. They did not speak to each other. It soon became difficult to breathe from a lack of fresh air, the water they had been denied, and from the energy-draining loss of body fluids.
The purification rite continued until midday when the shaman said it was time to take the third step along their sacred journey.
After Chase left the stuffy hut, the late August weather seemed cool when compared to that of the interior of the sweat lodge. At least there was a strong and constant wind outside to provide fresh air. As the others had, he dried his body with a pelt which had been smoked over a fire of special herbs and grasses and cottonwood branches. Clad only in a breechclout and moccasins, he awaited his turn to be painted. He had decided to use signs of the sky powers: lightning, stars, moon, sun, and clouds. The two helpers who were skilled at that task first painted all exposed skin from head to feet blue like a clear sky. By the time they finished their work, yellow lightning bolts zigzagged down each side of his chest from collarbone to waist, down each arm from shoulder to wrist, and down each leg from groin to ankle. A full moon was painted on his left cheek and a sun on his right, both in yellow. Across his forehead and on his chin were white stars. On his broad back were clusters of white clouds. To show honor to their brother, Wind Dancer and War Eagle were body-painted in the same way.
As the men left the ceremonial lodge at midafternoon, the signal was given for the Red Shield band members to gather beyond the fringe of their camp at the chosen site. The three participants approached the shaman, halted before him, and each revealed the kind of ritual he would endure. The three had given careful consideration to their choices before making them. One could choose to dance and chant around the pole for as long as he could stand and move and speak; allow small pieces of flesh to be removed and placed at the pole’s base; have one’s chest pierced and secured to the pole while he danced around it until he could pull free; or to have his chest pierced, his muscles secured by thongs, and be lifted off his feet to swing and sway until the fleshy bindings were rent and he fell free to the ground. Some braves picked the lowest or second task and later worked themselves up to one of the most dangerous and difficult. The ceremony lasted until all men either pulled free, yielded defeat, or died trying. If one lost consciousness, when he roused, he either had to continue or halt. None wanted death, but most preferred it over a show of weakness and dishonor.
Standing before the three men, Nahemana lifted a white sunbleached skull of a buffalo bull which was painted with the symbols of the sky forces: rain, hail, thunder, lightning, and wind. Its openings were stuffed with buffalo and sweet grasses and with special herbs. As he held up the sacred object, he said a prayer to summon the gazes of the Creator and Good Spirits to witness the impending scene. He lit his Prayer Pipe and blew puffs of smoke into each man’s face. As he did so, each inhaled deeply to capture it with his nose and used his hands to waft some over his head and chest, f
or it was believed to represent the breath of the Great Spirit.
Chase heard the soft beating of a large kettle drum by eight men, old and wise and respected members of the Red Shield Band and the Big Belly Society. He saw people sitting on the grass or on rush mats or standing, their number forming a dense human enclosure around the awesome scene. He heard and felt the incessant Plains wind which swept over his body and played in his hair. He felt the heat of the sun beaming down on him. He tasted the unpleasant flavor of a dry mouth, for he’d been denied water since last night. His eyes squinted against the bright sunlight and dry wind. His skin felt strange with the paints covering it. He pushed aside his discomfort as the ceremony began, a fourth step to be taken.
Ceremonial dancers came forth to perform their part of the exciting event. While keeping perfect time to the drumming, they moved around the pole doing intricate footsteps and graceful whirls and chanting to the Spirits. They were clad in their ritual attire, including feathered bussels and headdresses and heavily beaded garments and moccasins. After they finished, they resumed their places on sitting mats in a group.
Broken Lance, Chase’s seventeen-year-old cousin, chose to have small pieces of flesh cut from his arms and placed as an offering at the base of the pole. After that was done, the young brave, who had endured the pain in silence, went to sit with his parents Runs Fast and Pretty Meadow, sister of Rising Bear, and with his brother Two Feathers, who had subjected himself to the highest level of the Sun Dance last summer.
Bent Bow, son of their war chief Blue Owl, chose chest piercing. He looked reluctant and afraid to perform the deed, and was no doubt coerced by his father and other male relatives into doing so. During his preparation, Bent Bow writhed and grunted in agony. Afterward, he stayed seated with his head down.
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