Lakota Winds (Zebra Historical Romance) (41 page)

When he moved toward her again, Chumani-her heart pounding
and her body trembling, held her ground. When he reached her, he
licked her hand, closing his jaws around it gently and tugged her in
the opposite direction. She gathered he wanted her to follow him, but
away from camp, away from her beloved? Why? Was he a spirit helper
sent from Wakantanka to save her life? Was it too late to save her
husband and would her life be endangered if she walked onward? Or
was he a disguised evil spirit trying to lure her away from rescuing her
love and perhaps lure her into a trap? Should she go with him or yank
free and continue her quest? If she did the latter, would he attack her
or send forth a warning to the Crow or allow her to proceed?

Chumani yielded to her instincts, which were to trust the dog who had
helped them in the past, for she believed he was a mystical being sent
from the Great Spirit. Even if he were real, surely Wakantanka was
using and controlling him and his actions. As signs of friendship and
compliance, she stepped closer to him and stroked his head. He released
a gentle grip on her other hand, turned, and flopped his tail against it.
She deduced he wanted her to clutch it, so she did. They withdrew
from the enemy camp and soon were blanketed by blackness. She could
not see the creature or where they were going, so she held on to her
link to him. She walked until he halted and turned her way, so she
released his tail. He grasped her hand with his mouth again and pulled
her toward the ground. As she obeyed, her other hand and knees made
contact with a prone body. She reached for the face and fingered each
feature as she had done many times in total darkness with Waci Tate;
within seconds she knew it was her cherished husband who lay there.
She leaned over and listened to his chest, rejoicing when she detected
steady breathing and heartbeats. She trailed her hands over his entire
body and discovered many cuts and abrasions, but she could not tend
them without a medicine bundle. She gingerly pressed her lips to his
parched ones.

"He is weak and hurt, but he lives and is free. Thank you, Great Spirit, for returning him to me. And thank you, my friend," she whispered to
the dog as she stroked its head and back.

She lowered her mouth to his ear and murmured, "Can you hear
me, mihigna? It is Dewdrops. You will be safe soon and I will heal
you.

A soft moan escaped his throat and he roused slightly for a momentthough not long enough to speak-before he was motionless and silent
again. She sighed in relief, wondering at the same time how she could
get him to their horses in his disabled condition. The path of retreat
she had made in her head was of no use from this unknown location.
Enemy campfires were still within viewing range, but she could not
discern any symbols upon those tepees to use as markers to determine
her origin point, and the landscape beyond them was obscured by
darkness. Then, she heard hoof-steps and felt someone place tethers in
her hand. Their surroundings must have lightened a little, for she could
now see an old woman and the dog. "You come to help us escape?"
she asked.

Chumani saw the blanket-covered head nod before the woman bent
over to help her get Wind Dancer on his mount's back. It was a struggle,
but he managed to stir enough to assist them, as if the woman's touch
gave him a short surge of fortitude. She heard the soft chatter of a beak
and saw Cetan perched on a tree they were near. He made no attempt
to attack either the strange woman or the dog. She leapt upon her
horse's back, but the old woman took the tethers of both animals and
guided them away from the stream, her companion loping beside her
as if he possessed a wolf's blood and traits. Soon, that familiar ebony
shade of a moonless night closed in on them again, but not before she
saw Wind Dancer slumped over against his horse's neck.

Chumani perceived a detail that oddly had gone unnoticed earlier:
the wind's course, that told her they were withdrawing in the same
direction from which she had come. Somehow the woman knew that,
as she had gone there to gather their horses! She glanced over her
shoulder and saw the dim glows of campfires as the distance between them grew wider and wider. She sat in quiet awe as they were led to
safety, amazed her helpers could travel through near darkness.

After a while, the horses were halted. She called to the old woman
in whispers, but received no response. Using the wind's direction, she
looked to their rear. No campfires were in sight. She reasoned the hill
she had chosen and used earlier was between them, so she dismounted
and helped Wind Dancer to the ground. She found the bladder bag
and forced water into his mouth and held him nestled to her chest as
if he were a child and let him get needed sleep. There was nothing else
she could do until morning when the sun would guide her retreat.

She reasoned the mysterious pair were gone, without the woman
having spoken to her a single time. She held her beloved close and
guarded him for the remainder of the night, thanking Wakantanka
many times for saving their lives and for sending the Old Woman and
her dog to help them. She kissed Wind Dancer's forehead several times,
but resisted the urge to hug him, as she did not know the extent of his
injuries and could hurt him. He was in her arms again and still a part
of her Life-Circle and was getting healing sleep, which was all that
mattered at the present. Reaching home and tending him were important
things to be considered later.

At the first sign of dawn's approach, Chumani was astonished when
she saw her love's bow, quiver, and knife in the grass nearby; she was
elated that Sroka would not have them as coup prizes and her husband
would not feel shame in losing them to an enemy. She lay her beloved
on the ground and removed one of his marked arrows. She held it out
to her hawk and said, "Take it, Cetan, and findZitkala." She watched
him leave his tree perch, swoop down, close his talons around the slender
shaft, and take flight, to soar high overhead and locate his target.
Chumani had no doubt he would succeed, for she had trained him to
pass messages and weapons back and forth between her and Zitkala
during hunts and battles. They had practiced that skill many times and
he had never failed her. Yet, she prayed Cetan would reach her companions before they risked their lives to lure the Crow from their camp. Surely they would comprehend that the arrow which had Wind Dancer's
markings upon it meant they were both alive and free and a decoy ruse
was unnecessary.

She could not wait around to see the results of her action; it was
mandatory to get Wind Dancer farther away before the Crow awakened
and found him missing and began a search for him. She pressed the
water bag to his lips and coaxed him to drink. His eyes opened and he
gazed at her, then darted to their surroundings.

"You saved me from Sroka and his band," he murmured in a scratchy
voice as he noted her disguise and tried to sit up to caress her dirty
cheek.

As she assisted him, Chumani corrected in a hurry, "Dewdrops did
not free you, mihigna; it was the Old Woman Who Quills and her
spirit dog. I came to rescue you, but they did so before I reached the
enemy camp and guided me to your side. We remained here while you
slept, for I had no moon to guide us. Our companions hide nearby and
will join us soon along the way. We will speak of such things and I
will tend your wounds later. We must ride before the Crow come
looking for us; we are still close to their camp and the sun is rising.
Can you climb upon your horse with my help?" she asked.

"My strength comes and goes, but it is with me now. The strange
water she gave me to drink and poured over my body returns it for a
while, then seems to take it away again to force me to rest and sleep."

"Then it is powerful and good medicine and must be obeyed."

After he was mounted, Chumani asked, "How will I load your
weapons, mihigna, as it is forbidden for a woman to touch them. Our
spirit helpers rescued them from Sroka's grasp; they lie there upon the
ground."

Wind Dancer looked at his belongings. "Give them to me, mitawin,
for your ranks as a warrior and vision companion make you worthy to
touch them without staining them and weakening their powers. After
we return to our camp, they must be purified of an enemy's touch."
As my body must be, he told himself, as he did not want to worry her with that when she had other matters to concentrate upon at that time
and place.

Chumani passed the weapons to him and waited for him to suspend
the bow and quiver around his torso and slide the knife into his sheath,
which, strangely, Sroka had not removed. She leapt upon her horse and
said with a smile, "I am ready; we must leave this place where evil now
dwells."

As the Crow camp stirred to life at dawn, Sroka left his tepee and
made a shocking discovery. He rushed to the guard and kicked Apite
twice to awaken him. "Where is my captive?" he shouted as more of
his people spilled forth from their lodges and observed the event.

The startled man looked at the empty post and things piled and
painted there. Crane's gaze widened in fear and he replied, "I do not
know. A strange feeling stole my eyes and body. It is the work of a
Baleilaaxxawiia. "

"No evil spirit did this thing! You failed in your duty and speak
falsely to conceal your weakness. Your weapons will be broken; you will
be beaten; your tepee will be cut to pieces; your possessions will be
taken and given to others worthy of them. You have shamed yourself
and must be punished."

"I speak the truth. Do you not see the signs left there?" Crane refuted
as he pointed to them. "An evil spirit came for him or Old Man Coyote
desired to take his life. Or the Little People sneaked him away. Do you
not see the marks of the Sun, coyote, and Thunderbird painted upon
the post? Do you not see Sun Dance people laying there? Who could
enter our tepees and take them while their owners slept except Little
People or a Spirit?"

Everyone looked at the solid yellow circle and at black coyote and
buffalo tracks and an ebony Thunderbird symbol painted on the wood's
surface. The Sun was viewed as their Supreme Being and called Old
Man and Old Man Coyote. The Thunderbird was honored and prayed
to for rain to give them a good tobacco-growing season. They saw the
Sun Dance dolls of many warriors piled around it; the Ashkisshilissuua Baakaatkisshe were believed to possess great power. They were made by
divine guidance through a sacred vision and were always protected at
the first sign of trouble. The dolls were passed down from father to son
and so on for countless seasons, and were easily recognizable by most
tribal members. They saw withered tobacco plants and burned seeds
scattered about the sturdy stake. The Creator had given the first sacred
seeds to a past leader, No-Vitals. It was believed that as long as they
planted, harvested, and retained seeds from those original ones, their
people would live and prosper, though its tobacco was never smoked.

"How could Crane do such things while he was held captive by a
strange sleep?" Apite reasoned. "The Little People entered our camp
and-"

Although it was rude and rare to interrupt another while speaking,
Sroka did so, "The Daaskookaate Bilaxpaake did not leave their small
lodges in the crevices of Medicine Rock to do this wicked deed; they
live to give our warriors strength and to make our aims true to their
targets. They would not free an enemy to return with his people to
attack us!"

Frightened by the weird incident, Crane said, "We must leave to
find a safe hunting and raiding ground. This place holds zawiia baawaa-
lushkua. "

"The only bad magic here lives within you, coward and liar! I should
slay you with my bare hands for such weakness and trickery!"

`7kye!"the chief shouted for attention as he lifted his hand for silence.
He felt he had allowed the bitter quarrel to continue for too long between
the confused guard and their tribe's greatest warrior. "Akbaatatdia, He
Who Made Everything, has sent us a message, Sroka. Old Man Coyote
tells us to halt our raids on our enemies and to hunt the buffalo who
provides our needs. He has freed Waci Tate or allowed him to escape
so He can turn our eyes where they should be gazing. The summer
season has traveled too far for us to ride to the land where water gushes
and boils from the face of Mother Earth to hunt there. We must prepare
for the winter season here in Da-kkoo-tee territory. When that task is finished, we must return to our land and not enter this one again. What
do you say, my people?"