Wild Splendor (23 page)

“That is such a beautiful thought,” Leonida sighed. “I shall whisper it to Pure Blossom tomorrow while I help prepare her for her burial.”

Sage hugged her tightly to him. “You are so very special,” he said, his voice breaking. “So very, very special.”

Chapter 28

The trees and bushes round the place
Seemed midnight at noonday—

—J
OHN
C
LARE

 

 

The next morning everything was solemn again between Sage and Leonida as they ate their early-morning meal. Leonida understood Sage's silence as he sat staring into the flames of the fire, after scarcely touching his food. Soon they would be placing his beloved sister in the ground, far from the place where their ancestors had been buried.

This too seemed to tear at Sage's insides. Resentment toward the white man burned within him like a fire spreading. Suddenly he turned to Leonida. “There is much to be asked of you today,” he said.

Leonida's eyebrows rose questioningly. She set her wooden platter aside, her own food half-eaten. “What do you mean?” she murmured. “What are you going to ask me to do?”

“Last night you spoke of helping prepare my sister for burial,” Sage said, gently placing a hand to her cheek. “My wife, I must ask more of you than that. I must ask you to prepare my sister for burial alone.”

“Alone?” she gasped. She had dreaded even assisting the other women, yet she felt that it was required of her because the dead was Sage's sister. “Why must I do this alone? Everyone loved Pure Blossom. There will be many of your women who will want to care for her.”

“As time goes on, there will be many customs of my people that you will learn,” Sage said thickly. He caressed her chin with his thumb, then moved his hand away from her face. “Today you will learn one of the most important customs of the Navaho.”

“And that is?” Leonida prodded, yet she dreaded hearing the answer. The thought of being alone with Pure Blossom, readying her body for burial, frightened her.

And how was she to know what to do? It would be bad enough to be with Pure Blossom now, seeing her so stone-cold in death and remembering how vital she had been even with her affliction. But to take on the duties of readying her for her grave?

Yet how could she say no to her husband?

“The Navaho people are very hesitant to touch a dead person, and outsiders, non-Navaho, have always been recruited to prepare the dead and to remove the corpses from their dwellings,” he explained, his eyelids heavy as he gazed at her.

“But how could that be possible?” Leonida asked softly. “The Navaho live a secluded life, away from the others.”

“It has not always been that way,” Sage said bitterly. “I recall the neighboring Pueblo, who when I was a child were always ready to come to the aid of their friends, the Navaho. And although so many Kiowa were our enemy, there were some friendly bands with whom we exchanged favors.”

Sage doubled his hand into a tight fist at his side. “But now there are none we can call friends or allies,” he said in a hiss. “The white people have seen to that. Those who once allied themselves with the Navaho are now scattered like blowing grains of sand in all directions of this earth. The customs of the Navaho must change because of this.”

His eyes softened and he took her hand in his, squeezing it lovingly. “But today there is one among us who can help as my sister is prepared to travel to the Country of the Ghosts, the destination of human beings after death. You, my wife, are the one we will depend on today. Can you do this for your husband and his people?”

Leonida swallowed hard and forced a smile. “Yes, I will do this for you,” she said, flinging herself into his arms and hugging him tightly. She still dreading her task with all her might, but if this could help lighten his burden, then so be it. She
must
do it. Yet a thought struck her that made her pull away from Sage.

“But I don't know what to do,” she blurted, timidly looking up at him. “How can I do this if I am not shown?”

“You will not be shown, but you will be instructed by Gay Heart, a close friend of Pure Blossom's,” he said, his voice breaking. “She will tell you what to do. Everything.”

“Oh, I see,” Leonida said, though she still did not feel any better about it. The responsibility frightened her, for what if she did something wrong? Would this affect the burial rites? Would this change the course of Pure Blossom's journey to the “Country of the Ghosts”?

Her thoughts were catapulted back in time, to the day before her mother's funeral. Although Leonida had not been very old, she had been forced to accompany her father to the mortuary. Her knees had trembled as she stood at his side while he made the burial arrangements and chose the casket. It had been so morbid to her, she had become ill, choking back the urge to retch as her father ushered her quickly out of the dark and gloomy mortuary.

She shivered at the memory of standing aside and watching as her mother was prepared for her final resting place in the casket. Several women had fussed over her mother in her bedroom while preparing her for her casket. Earlier, the women had chosen the dress that she would wear. It was black and sequined, nothing at all like her mother would ever have had in her wardrobe.

Leonida had shuddered as they combed her mother's hair into a tight bun atop her head. She had been proud of her long, flowing golden hair.

But it was the makeup on her mother's face that made Leonida want to shout at the women to get away from her. With all the makeup they put on her porcelain-white face, these women made her mother look like a circus clown instead of the sweet and soft-spoken person she had always been.

Remembering these things made it easier for Leonida to accept the responsibility of Pure Blossom's appearance. She would let no one make her look like a clown. She would make sure that Pure Blossom was not a mockery of the way she had been in true life, so sweet and giving, so loved.

“There is someone else that I must approach about Pure Blossom's burial,” Sage said, his jaw tightening, his eyes suddenly filled with tormented anger.

“Who?” Leonida asked, moving to her feet along with Sage. As he dressed himself in his dark velveteen breeches, and a velveteen shirt to match, Leonida also dressed in a garment devoid of bright colors and frills. It was a full-skirted gingham dress with a high collar and long sleeves. As she waited for Sage to respond, she brushed her hair until it lay across her shoulders and down her back in glistening, golden waves.

Sage bent over and pulled on a knee-high buckskin moccasin. “Kit Carson is aware of the Navaho's tradition as well,” he said, pulling on his other moccasin. “I must go to him. I must seek his help. If he agrees, then tonight, as the sun sets, we will make bargains between us that will best suit us both.”

“You're not going to ask him to help with the ceremony?” Leonida gasped. She went to him and put a hand on his arm. “Sage, surely you wouldn't.”

“I thought about this hard and long into the night,” Sage murmured, gently resting his hands on her shoulders. “Kit Carson has known the Navaho many moons. He once was a friend. Perhaps drawing him into the ceremony of the Navaho might bring friendship between us again, not only between me and Kit Carson but between him and my people, as a whole.”

“But he has said, time and again, that he cannot make decisions that will affect the welfare of your people without the direct order from the president,” she said, her voice guarded. She was not sure just how much the Navaho men accepted their wives' debating their decisions. Until now Sage had seemed open enough with her to make her believe that she could be as open with him.

“He has more powers over decisions than he allows anyone to think,” Sage said, smiling smugly. “If he helps with the burial before he knows that I am ready to set him and the captives free as payment for his help, then he will prove to me that he is worthy of my chancing to trust him again.”

“What are you going to ask him to do at the ceremony?” Leonida asked softly, doubting her husband's logic for the first time since she had met him. This man, this Kit Carson, was not to be trusted ever again.

“He will be asked to remove Pure Blossom's body from her dwelling,” he said, his voice drawn. “He will carry her to her final resting place and lay her there. By doing so, he will align himself with the Navaho again. And while doing this, he will be aware of the full meaning of his sacrifice. He will expect to receive his freedom. He will expect to see the Navaho as friends then, instead of enemies. He will follow his heart then to do what is right by them.”

“I hope you are right,” Leonida said, more under her breath than aloud.

He lifted her chin so that her eyes met his. “Let me explain the belief of the Navaho burial ritual to you,” he said softly. “Then as you witness it, you will understand. After you have prepared Pure Blossom for burial, her body will not be taken out the doorway, but through a hole broken in the north wall. The wigwam will then be abandoned and never entered again by any Navaho. Pure Blossom will be carried to a high, commanding bluff that overlooks the river. Such a serene place of burial is desired because of its solemn dignity.”

He stopped and cleared his throat. Talking about the burial of his sister pained him deeply. “My sister's soul will have to undertake a long journey before it reaches its destination. Somewhere along the way her spirit will stop and drink at a large hole in the ground, after which it will shrink and pass on to the ‘Country of the Ghosts,' where it will be fed with spirit food and drink. After this act of communion with the spirit world, her spirit may not ever return.”

Sage drew Leonida into his embrace. He stroked her waist-length hair. “It is my belief that my sister's soul waits to be released from her frail, twisted body, then to be a thing of beauty in the hereafter.”

“I would like to think that also,” Leonida said, gazing up at him with tears in her eyes.

“I must go and speak with Kit Carson,” Sage said, easing Leonida from his arms. “My sister awaits your arrival.” He leaned a soft kiss to her lips. “My sister will somehow know your obedience and kindness to her. I will thank you for her.”

He started to walk away, then turned and smiled down at Leonida. “One day we, too, will travel the same path and we will embrace my sister again.”

Leonida wiped tears from her eyes as he left the wigwam. Then she herself left, turning toward Pure Blossom's dwelling. The Navaho were gathered around the house, demonstrating their grief in various ways. As Leonida stepped inside, she found the singer standing near the corpse, chanting softly, and then occasionally singing his dead songs, his prayer to Pure Blossom's soul.

A young Navaho maiden, pretty and petite, with midnight-dark eyes and hair and gentle facial features, was obediently kneeling down beside Pure Blossom, a milk-white doeskin dress draped over her arms, a roll of birch-bark resting on the floor beside her.

Leonida went and knelt beside the woman, knowing that this must be Gay Heart. They spoke only when Leonida needed further instructions as to how she should prepare Pure Blossom for her burial. First Leonida smoothed the blanket away from Pure Blossom. Her naked body was already turning a strange color, similar to ice frozen firmly on a river.

A basin of water with a cloth, and suds from a yucca plant floating at the top, was set on the floor beside Pure Blossom. Leonida did as she was told. She began washing Pure Blossom, giving her body the aroma of the yucca.

When that was done, Leonida took the beautiful dress that was offered her. She gently put the dress on Pure Blossom and then she attached several ornaments to the clothes and placed silver bracelets on her wrists and a beaded necklace around her neck.

Having seen how Pure Blossom took such pride in her floor-length black hair, Leonida took much time in brushing it, then braiding it in one long braid, bringing the end of the braid to rest between Pure Blossom's hands.

“She is beautiful,” Gay Heart whispered, looking down adoringly. She then turned a soft smile to Leonida. “She must now be wrapped in a roll of birch bark. This will preserve her body at least until her spirit has taken its last steps into the Country of the Ghosts.”

Leonida smiled weakly at the maiden, then accepted the roll of birch bark in her arms. She gazed at Pure Blossom a moment longer, taking her last look at her beloved friend. Then, swallowing a lump that was building in her throat, she managed to get the birch bark under Pure Blossom and slowly wrapped it around her.

When this was done, the singer left the wigwam and announced that it was time for the short walk to the chosen burial ground.

As Leonida turned to leave the wigwam, she stopped with a start when she saw Kit Carson entering.

“You've agreed to do this for Sage?” Leonida whispered, stunned by his decision, yet feeling relieved. Perhaps Sage and Kit Carson had come to an understanding—one that benefited both Kit and the Navaho.

“Does it seem so astonishing that I would?” he whispered back. He placed a gentle hand on her cheek. “Pretty lady, I have done this many times before for the Navaho. The only difference is that this time I do it in the capacity of captive. Yet because of my admiration for Sage, I could not refuse him.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” Leonida said, taking his hand from her cheek and gently lowering it to his side. “I also wish your generosity could be offered under different circumstances. Why couldn't you have been as generous about everything else that the Navaho believe in? Like their need for freedom.”

Her chin held high, Leonida moved past him into the heat of the morning. She went to Sage's side and watched Navaho warriors tear the birch bark away, opening the wall at the north side of the house, making it large enough for Kit Carson to carry Pure Blossom through. The chanting and singing continued, the voice of the singer the most prominent of all, echoing into the heavens with the remorseful songs.