Walks the Fire (11 page)

Jesse was working on her sewing project one morning when she heard concerned voices outside her tepee. Prairie Flower rushed in and pulled her outside to view the horizon. What she saw made Jesse clasp Prairie Flower’s hand in her own and cry out in fear.

Billowing black smoke leaped into the sky and rushed toward them. The alarm was sounded. Older boys rounded up the grazing ponies to herd them across the creek. The ponies, frightened by the scent of burning grass, fled willingly, and the boys scuttled back to help move the camp.

Hastily the women gathered up what belongings they could before heading for the creek. Jesse snatched up Two Mothers. Giving him to Old One, she motioned for her to run toward the water, and she rushed back into the tepee. She grabbed Rides the Wind’s parfleche and ran out. Already, they could see flames roaring across the prairie toward them.

Ahead, the women were wading across the creek, some carrying buffalo robes, others empty-handed. Jesse looked across and located Old One and Two Mothers, already safe on the opposite bank. Holding the parfleche high, she splashed across and dropped to the earth beside Old One, gasping for breath and hugging Two Mothers. The scent of the burning prairie filled her nostrils and stung her throat.

Then, from the crowd of women came a shriek. A young squaw Jesse knew as Rain rose and held up her hands to the sky in disbelief. Oblivious to the inferno behind him, her child sat on the opposite hill, sorting pebbles from a carefully arranged pile beside him.

It was Hears Not. He had straggled behind the group, and Rain, occupied with her twin infants, had failed to notice when the toddler let go of her dress. Now he sat, unaware of the flames that had already begun to lick at the knoll above him.

Suddenly the wind shifted, sending a blast of smoke and heat swirling about him. He looked about and in one motion was on his feet. His young face worked with effort as he tried to control the impulse to cry out in terror. Already, the value of bravery had been impressed upon his young mind. Eyes wide, he started for the creek bank, looking for a way across. His mother, overcome by fear, could only stand with arms raised to the sky, wailing his name over and over again.

Jesse never remembered dumping Two Mothers onto the grass, nor did she recall plunging across the creek, but suddenly she was running up the hill toward Hears Not. Thick smoke burned her throat. The stench of burning hair filled her nostrils, but still she ran on. Finally she reached Hears Not and, sweeping him into her arms, she hunched over to protect him as much as possible. The flames were at them now, as she ran toward the creek. She was aware of a searing pain across her shoulders.

Hands reached out to take Hears Not, and Jesse sank down onto the prairie, unaware of the buffalo robe that was thrown across her to put out the flames that had consumed the back of her dress.

And now Jesse lived in a new world. She heard her own cries echoing down the long dark tunnel of pain. It engulfed her and carried her along until she felt she was drowning in it. Then, just as she did drown, she mercifully fainted. But in the agony there was something else—quiet voices and tender hands, singing, and the sound of rattles, and then pain again as something foul smelling was smeared on her burned shoulders.

Over and over she heard the voice of Medicine Hawk chanting the song of the sun:

Wanka tan han he ya u we lo

Wanka tan han he ya u we lo

Mita wi cohan topa wan la

Ka nu we he ya u we lo

Anpe wi kin he ya u we lo

A ye ye ye yo

She lay in agony for days, and while she struggled to come out of the tunnel of her pain, Old One lovingly tended her. Medicine Hawk came to invoke his gods to heal the brave woman who had saved a child. The women in the village took care of Two Mothers. And Rides the Wind hunted with savage energy, killing buffalo for a new tepee. Returning late each day to the camp, he crouched by Jesse’s writhing form and watched as Old One tended the wounds. He brought fresh water to Jesse’s lips and held her head up as she drank. And he prayed to his God to heal this woman.

When the day came at last that he knew she would live, Rides the Wind rode out at dawn to thank his God. Raising his arms to the sky, he shouted his joy and sang the words she had first read to him from the holy book. He called for the village herald to announce a feast of celebration. When he returned, Jesse was sitting upright, her hands fingering the exquisite beadwork on a pair of moccasins in her lap. She looked up and smiled weakly, explaining “from Rain.”

Rides the Wind nodded and said, “You danced with death for Hears Not.”

“I only remember his terrified eyes. Then we were in the fire.” Jesse flinched as she reached out to take the drink he offered her. “Where is Two Mothers… how long?”

“The sun has set ten times since the fire. Two Mothers is well. Another tepee will be his home until you are able to tend the fire.”

Rides the Wind abruptly ended the conversation, rising to leave. He was at the tepee’s opening when he heard a low cry. Turning he watched as Jesse felt about the singed frill on her scalp. Her eyes filled with tears as she moaned, “My hair…”

Rides the Wind walked back across the tepee. Kneeling before her, he cupped her chin in his hand and raised her face so that their eyes met. “It will grow again. Until then, hold your head high, for all to see that Walks the Fire has given much to become one of our people.”

“Walks the Fire?”

“You have earned a new name among the people.”

The words were spoken tenderly, and Jesse’s heart lurched as she watched the powerful form go to the opening of the tepee. He bent to leave and then turned back a moment. The sunlight fell across his face, lighting one bronzed cheek and one dark braid. A gentle breeze stirred the eagle feathers dangling from his hair. But Rides the Wind said nothing, and in one silent movement he was gone.

Eleven

… Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee.
—
Ruth 1:16

Prairie Flower was the bearer of the news.
When she said it, Jesse stared in disbelief. Prairie Flower repeated it, wondering if Jesse had understood.

Jesse denied it. “He does not care for me. He brought me to the village to feed his child.”

“He gave you Red Star.”

Jesse denied its significance. “That was only so that I would not shame him.”

“He brought many skins for a new tepee. He brought you elk skins for a new dress.”

Jesse explained. “We needed those things because of the fire. All of the people needed new tepees, new clothing.”

“He sits with you every evening outside the tepee.”

“That is so I can read from the Book.”

Prairie Flower grew impatient “Walks the Fire! I tell you truth. Rides the Wind wishes you to be his wife. You know nothing of Lakota ways. I will tell you!”

Jesse started to protest, but Prairie Flower interrupted. “No! You listen! When a man wishes to show he wants a woman, he dresses in his finest clothing and comes to her outside her tepee. They sit and talk. He gives gifts to her parents. Not every custom is followed, because you are not a young Lakota woman. But I tell you, Rides the Wind cares for you.

“After the fire, when Medicine Hawk came—when you were as one dying—you did not see him.
I
saw him. Rides the Wind did not eat. He did not sleep. He thought only of Walks the Fire. He hunted healing herbs. He hunted the elk for your dress. He took Two Mothers to Yellow Bird’s tepee so that his cries would not disturb your rest He trusted no one but Old One, and himself, and me to care for you.”

Jesse hid her face by drawing up her legs and bowing her head low so that her forehead rested on her knees.

Finally, she whispered, so quietly that Prairie Flower almost could not hear the words, “You are my friend, Prairie Flower. If I tell you what is in my heart, will you promise never to tell?”

Prairie Flower laid a hand on Jesse’s shoulder, pulling it away quickly when her friend flinched in pain. “I will not betray my friend.”

Taking a deep breath, Jesse lifted her head. “When Rides the Wind comes near to me, my heart sings. But I do not believe that he cares for me. I am clumsy in all of the things a Lakota woman must know. I cannot speak his language without many childish mistakes. And…” Jesse reached up to lay her hand on her short hair, “I am nothing to look at. I am not…”

Prairie Flower grew angry. “I have
told
you
he cares for you. Can you not see it?”

Jesse shook her head.

Prairie Flower spoke the unspeakable. “Then, if you cannot see that he cares for you in what he
does,
you must see it in what he
has not done.
You have been in his tepee. Dancing Waters has been gone many moons.”

“Stop!” Jesse demanded. “Stop it! I… just don’t say any more!” She leaped up and ran out of the tepee—and into Rides the Wind, who was returning from the river where he had gone to draw water.

Jesse knocked the water skins from both of his hands. Water spilled out and she fumbled an apology then bent stiffly to pick up the skins, wincing with the effort.

“I will do it, Walks the Fire.” His voice was tender as he bent and took the skins from her.

Jesse protested, “It is the wife’s job.” She blushed, realizing that she had used a wrong word—the word for
wife,
instead of the word for
woman.

Rides the Wind interrupted before she could correct herself. “Walks the Fire is not the wife of Rides the Wind.”

Jesse blushed and remained quiet. A hand reached for hers and Rides the Wind said, “Come, sit.” He helped her sit down just outside the door of the tepee. The village women took note as he went inside and brought out a buffalo robe. Sitting by Jesse, he placed the robe on the ground and began to talk.

“I will tell you how it is with the Lakota. When a man wishes to take a wife…” he described Lakota courtship. As he talked, Jesse realized that all that Prairie Flower had said seemed to be true. He had, indeed, done nearly everything involved in the courtship ritual.

Still,
she told herself,
there is a perfectly good explanation for everything he has done.

Rides the Wind continued describing the wedding feast. Jesse continued to reason with herself as he spoke. Then she realized the voice had stopped and he had repeated a question.

“How is it among the whites? How does a man gain a wife?”

Embarrassed, Jesse described the sparsest of courtships, the simplest wedding. Rides the Wind listened attentively. When she had finished, he said, “There is one thing the Lakota brave who wishes a wife does that I have not described.” Pulling Jesse to her feet, he continued, “One evening, as he walks with his woman…” He reached out to pick up the buffalo robe. He was aware that the village women were watching carefully.

“He spreads out his arms…” Rides the Wind spread his arms, opening the buffalo robe to its full length, “and wraps it about his woman…” Rides the Wind turned toward Jesse and reached around her, “… so that they are both inside the buffalo robe.” He looked down at Jesse, trying to read her expression. When he saw nothing in the gray eyes, he abruptly stepped away. “But it is hot today and your wounds have not healed. I have said enough. You see how it is with the Lakota.”

When Jesse still said nothing, he continued, “You spoke of a celebration with a min-is-ter. It is a word I do not know. What is this min-is-ter?”

“A man who believes in the Bible and teaches his people about God from the Bible.”

“What if there is no minister and a man and a woman wish to be married?”

Jesse grew more uncomfortable. “I suppose they would wait until a minister came.”

Rides the Wind insisted. “What if a minister did not come?”

“I don’t know. I never thought about it.”

Rides the Wind went inside the tepee and brought out the Bible. “Read what God says about man and wife.”

They sat down again and Jesse read every passage she could find while he listened.

“I hear nothing of min-is-ter.”

She grew defensive. “No—but—God says to obey the way of the people. Among the whites, the way of the people is with a minister.”

Rides the Wind took the Bible from Jesse’s hands and held it as he said, earnestly, “You live among the Lakota now. Would God say you cannot be a wife without a minister?” He answered his own question. “I think God would say a man and a woman were made to be one. I think God would find a way without a minister.”

Rides the Wind abruptly tossed the Bible and the buffalo robe inside the tepee, grabbed the water skins, and strode toward the creek.

Yellow Bird saw and smiled to herself hopefully.

Old One heard and clucked with regret.

Prairie Flower saw and sighed in exasperation.

Jesse watched him walk away with a singing heart.
He cares for me… He cares for me… Prairie Flower was right… He cares!

Several evenings later after the fire burned low, Jesse lay awake, trying to sort her muddled emotions. Two Mothers had returned to their tepee and he slept beside her, his breath sounding a rhythmic whistle. Through the hole at the top of the tepee Jesse could see the stars. A psalm came to mind.
“When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers… what is man, that thou art mindful of him?”