Dances Naked (26 page)

She knew that she had yelled out more than once with her nighttime passion—she had seen the grin on Marty’s face when he asked if she was okay the morning after her first time, but she couldn’t help it. That first night, their real wedding night, her husband had been so slow and careful. She was the one urging him not to hold back
,
but he knew what he was doing. The cramping that she felt was less than her monthly
,
but the pleasure afterwards was more than she thought possible. Sylvester, her fiancé from her old life, had warned her that the first time she had sex
,
it would hurt
,
but it would only be that first time. After that, she’d like it as much as he did, he bragged.

She shuddered at the thought of being intimate with that pig of a man. Now she knew how a husba
nd and wife were supposed to be—
loving and sharing. No, not just a married couple—a family and tribe, too. Everyone in her immediate family was helpful and supportive. The old women were still distant but weren’t as haughty as they had been the first week. At least she didn’t have to bear the snorts and prattle that sounded like insults when she walked past their hovel on her way to gather wood. But
,
that might be because Red Shirt had glowered at them and shook his head when he heard them. If they were rude to her, they’d get less than a child’s portion of food that day and a repeat of the head shake and frown at dinner:
‘D
on’t treat my family poorly
,
or your stomach will suffer.
’

Today Big Sister was showing them how to craft pottery by rolling ropes of clay in a circle, building it up then smoothing the surface with a stone.  Her work was perfect
,
but Old Woman and her cane hobbled in and insisted on taking over. The crotchety old crone babbled on in her high, whiny voice, apparently telling Big Sister that she was doing it all wrong. The younger female ceded her coiled bowl to her elder then stepped back to join her new mother and aunt, submissive and respectful of the dowager.

Old Woman set down her bowl of whitish grains and gave her pottery lesson to Big Sister. Rachel and Morning Star didn’t have to worry about understanding her words or gestures. She ignored them
,
so they ignored her. Old Woman carried on with her instructions, adding more wood to the kiln’s fire. Apparently
,
Big Sister needed to be taught the nuances of the firing and curing of pottery.

The pottery finishing instructions continued through most of the day, Rachel and Morning Star wordlessly watching the demonstration in between fixing dinner and tending to babies. Finally
,
Old Woman called Big Sister over to her, urging her to try her hand at applying the corncob
powder to the fiery, nearly red-
hot bowl, at last letting her work on her own project. Old Woman put her hands on top of Little Sister’s, guiding her in the circular motion needed to sprinkle the matrix over the clay surface. She took two sticks and flipped the bowl, dumping the still smoking corncob ashes out of it,
placing
the bowl back on top of the smoldering mass
to let the smoke cure the inside
,
thus
making the vessel watertight.  Old Woman said a few more words then smiled at her pupil, “You did well,” she said with her Cherokee words but also with her relaxed body language. She nodded in farewell, adding a couple of words and gestures that the wives could tell meant, “Go ahead and
finish by yourself, Big Sister—
you know what you’re doing.”

T
hen Old Woman d
id something totally unexpected:
she acknowledged Rachel and Morning Star with a smile
,
then bent over and placed two small bowls at their feet. “These are for us?” Rachel asked innocently.

Old Woman snorted a laugh then swept the back of her hand toward the young wife like she was brushing a
fly from her dinner: take them,
they’re yours.

“Thank you,” Morning Star said then glanced at Rachel, telling her with a look: be respectful.

“Oh, thank you, thank you very much,” Rachel said obediently then looked back to Morning Star to see if she had done right or should she say more. The mother figure gave a tender grin of acknowledgment to her woman-child sister-daughter: well done.

Old Woman made her way back to her hovel. She hadn’t said another word, which was unusual. If it was possible fo
r the crone with the cane to do so, she hobbled with a smile, glad that the men in her family had found hard-working women to help them with their families.

Ж

“I know you said that you needed to build five homes,” Marty said to Red Shirt as he signed const
ructing five
units with his hands, “b
ut it looks like four should be enough. I mean, one for you and your family, one for Number Two and his, one for the old women
,
and the
n one for The Young One and me—
at least for me until I go. I really, really, really want to go home,” Marty begged. His voice was pleading and he couldn’t help but sink toward the ground. He didn’t want to get on his knees
,
but it seemed that his legs had a mind of their own; they were getting ready to assume the begging position.

“Hmph,” Red Shirt snorted then let a little grin escape. He pointed to Dances Naked and gestured for him to stand up; they were going for a walk. Red Shirt pointed to the sky then the ground, to the people working in their little clan then to Marty and himself. He pointed to the sky again and back to the food storehouse.

“Yes, God is good,” said Marty. “I think He sent me here for a reason, too. And
,
I think you know that it’s time for me to go. You and your family, your tribe, have everything you need. You have housing and food enough to see you through even the longest winter. You have good people who will work with you
,
and for you
,
and even Old Woman has accepted the new wives. Did you know she gave each one of them a bowl? I’m not sure
,
but I think she means she’ll share what’s hers with them now. Is that right?”

Red Shirt nodded. His English language skills had been passable
,
but since Marty had been with them these past two months, it was even better. Of course, speaking with his wife in the evening helped, too. “Home,” Red Shirt said to Marty then lifted his chin toward the sunset.

“West, you mean my home, I mean
The Trees are to the west?” Marty asked excitedly.

Red Shirt nodded then put up two fingers then looked to the sky. “We can go in two days if the weather stays good?” Marty asked
,
although he was pretty sure that is what he meant.

Red Shirt nodded then sighed. He really wished the crazy white man would stay with them. He liked him and
,
although he wasn’t as smart as his father, he did care for everyone in the family unit like a grandfather. Yes, the man deserved to be back with his family. If it weren’t for him, he wouldn’t have food to feed his new wife and son or anyone else.

M

arty didn’t have much to pack but rolling all his worldly possessions together into his bedroll made him feel that much closer to his journey home. He didn’t know why Red Shirt wanted to wait two more days
,
but he’d respect his decision. At least he hadn’t stalled or decided that he had to stay to help build that one last building.

He was pretty good at understanding the chief
,
but it wasn’t until later that night, when he was saying his prayers, that he realized the fifth building was to be a church or temple or holy place of some sort. He felt bad, well, a little bit, that he wasn’t going to stay and help build it. But
,
on the other hand, the men now had improved tools to help with the construction and had gained lots of experience building the first four. And
,
the templ
e was for members of the tribe—
they should be the ones building it, not a crazy white man who did nothing but complain about wanting to be back with his family.

Marty sighed at his self-chastisement. He knew Red Shirt and the others didn’t think of him as an outsider. From that first morning when they had found him asleep, an Indian hunting party who had managed to acquire his stolen horse, he liked them. They traded with each other, fed each other, even conspired against a common enemy, Grant, together. But
,
now the visiting old man was going home.

A sudden panic overtook Marty. Home. Where was it now? Should he stay here
with
the people
he knew
? What would happen if
James
and Leah’s ministrations didn’t work
,
and Ian never had another son? What if he died and his son, Scout Kincaid, Bibb’s ancestor, was never born? That meant that when, or if, he went back, Bibb wouldn’t be there. And
,
if she
was
n’t there, then neither Billy nor James would be born…Oh, my God! What would happen to them if their ancestor was never born? Would they just, poof, disappear?

Stop being paranoid, Melbourne! Remember, God has it all under control. It may seem like a great inconvenience, being held back from your family for a couple of months, but look what you’ve accomplished. Yes, you were able to buy food for the group so they didn’t starve over the winter. Rachel would probably be with Red Shirt no matter what. But Prudence, now called Morning Star; if you hadn’t been there to intercede, would Old Woman have cast her out
,
and
Red Shirt forced to return he
r to her father? If that had happened, then Number Two would n
ot have
a wife
,
and Big Sister and Baby Brother
would be without a mother—
at least not her. No, it’s all going to be fine.

Ж

“Rachel, I think I’m pregnant. I’m not too sure about this
,
but I hav
en’t had my menses since I’ve been here and that’s almost two months, I mean two moons. I mean, well, you know what I mean. You’ve been pregnant before, isn’t that what happens?” Morning Star asked.

“You mean your courses,” Rachel asked, “the bleeding?”

Morning Star nodded her head in embarrassment. Her father had given her a book about anatomy to tell her about becoming a woman. Her mother had died when she was three
,
and her father did the best he could. The book helped
,
but she only knew the medical terms, not the common name, for the monthly bleeding. She saw other women in church and had gone to school
,
but nobody ever talked about those things with her.

“Well, I never had any, I mean, I just got pregnant, had a baby, got pregnant again…” Rachel stopped talking when she saw the shocked look on her friend’s face. “I had a baby a few weeks before I came to the tribe. She was born dead. I didn’t know anything, well, not much, about babies before. But Sarah, she’s a nice lady and the healer who helped, um, take care of the birthin’, she had a long talk with me. But
,
you’re right. I haven’t had one either. I think we’re both pregnant. I think we’re having twins!”

“Twins?” Morning Star asked in a loud whisper, trying to contain her excitement. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant
,
but you’re pregnant, too?”

Rachel nodded excitedly, holding back the urge to jump up and down and squeal.

Morning Star calmed down before speaking again. “I think we’re going to have two babies
,
but they won’t be twins,” the elder lady-in-waiting explained. “You have to have two babies come out of the same womb to be twins. But
,
two babies! Have you told Red Shirt yet?”

Rachel shook her head. “No, but I think he knows. I mean, he’s been looking at the moon every night then down at me, grinning real big like, just before, um, we, you know…”

Rachel’s voice trailed off; Morning Star knew what she meant. Her husband did the same thing. The men knew they had more members of the tribe coming and were proud of it.

Ж

Marty made sure he stayed busy all day. He was probably overtaxing himself
,
but he had so much nervous energy, it was either work twice as hard as usual or drive himself crazy by looking up at the sky every five minutes, wishing for the day to be over so
it would be night, then morning, then he and Red Shirt could leave for The Trees.

When Marty and the others came in for a drink and a light lunch, he could tell something was different. Red Shirt brought out the ham, carved off a hearty portion of it
,
then handed it to Morning Star to cook.