A Whisper In The Wind (16 page)

Michael sighed as he crossed his arms under his head and gazed up at the vast blue sky. Somehow the sky seemed bigger here than it had in Los Angeles, wider, deeper, its color a more vivid shade of blue. He wished fleetingly for a cold bottle of beer, and then, somewhat wistfully, he ticked off the things he missed most: a hot shower, a fast car, a quick trip to the beach after a hard day, a pizza smothered in pepperoni and olives…

He pushed such thoughts from his mind as he realized that Yellow Spotted Wolf was speaking to him.

“I’m sorry,” Michael apologized, sitting up. “I wasn’t listening.”

Yellow Spotted Wolf was also sitting up. He gestured at Michael’s chest. “You have not been a participant in the Medicine Lodge Ceremony.”

Michael shook his head. The Medicine Lodge was similar to the Lakota Sun Dance. When a man participated in the Medicine Lodge Ceremony, he offered his blood and his pain to the spirits in the hope that the gods would grant him the desires of his heart, be it help in times of trouble, or prosperity for the People, or the fulfilling of a promise previously made.

Yellow Spotted Wolf grunted softly. “I do not think you lack the courage,” he mused. “Have you never felt the need to sacrifice your blood to
Heammawihio?”

“I have never had the opportunity,” Michael replied, ignoring the small voice in the back of mind that questioned whether he did indeed possess the kind of courage needed to undergo such torture. Was he strong enough to endure having skewers inserted into his flesh? Did he have the tenacity to hang from the Medicine Lodge pole until the skewers tore loose, freeing him from the pole and the pain? He knew that the white man viewed the Sun Dance ceremony as barbaric, but to the Lakota and the Cheyenne and the other Plains tribes, it was a deeply religious experience.

Michael glanced at Yellow Spotted Wolf. He had often touched his great-grandfather’s scars as a small boy, marveling at the old man’s courage, wondering, even then, if he himself would be brave enough to endure the sacred ritual. It had been an unanswerable question back then, because his people no longer practiced the Medicine Lodge in the old way.

But he was here, now.

“You are young to have endured the Medicine Lodge,” Michael remarked.

“I was fifteen summers,” Yellow Spotted Wolf boasted. “Already a man.”

Michael grinned. It was a tale he had heard countless times, and he was suddenly eager to hear it again.

But Yellow Spotted Wolf did not go on with his story. Instead, he cocked his head to one side. “Have you sought a medicine dream?”

“Yes.”

“Was it good?”

Michael chuckled softly. “It changed my life.”

Yellow Spotted Wolf did not ask Michael what he had seen, for such sacred things were not spoken of except to one who was holy.

“We should be getting back to camp,” Michael remarked, rising to his feet.

“You are anxious to return to your woman,” Yellow Spotted Wolf said with a knowing grin.

“Yes,” Michael agreed, and the thought of holding Elayna filled him with pleasure. “Come on, I’ll race you back to camp!”

But Yellow Spotted Wolf only laughed and shook his head. You could not win a race against a man whose woman was waiting for him.

Chapter Thirty

They were lying side by side under a clear summer sky. The moon hung low, a great golden scythe surrounded by countless twinkling stars. A gentle breeze whispered through the cottonwoods, sharing the secrets of the night.

Elayna’s head rested on Michael’s shoulder, and she thought she had never known such contentment, such a feeling of belonging. She liked living with the Cheyenne, she liked their customs, their friendliness, their belief that all life was part of the whole. They had a great reverence for the earth, for all living things.

She turned her head and gazed at the man beside her. How was it possible that she could have grown to love him so completely in such a short time? They lived together in sweet harmony, grateful for each new day. He was a warrior, with a warrior’s inborn pride. He possessed a deep inner strength, an assurance of who and what he was. He was adept with the bow and the lance, he rode with the ease and agility that seemed to be inherent in the Cheyenne. He excelled at the hoop and pole game; no one could best him at wrestling. She never grew tired of watching him, whether at work or play, for he was the most beautiful man she had ever known.

She felt her heart swell with joy as Michael raised up on one elbow and smiled down at her. “You’re very quiet this evening.”

“I was just thinking how happy I am to be here, with you.”

He felt a little twinge of guilt as he recalled how she’d come to be there in the first place. “Do you ever miss your other life, back at the fort?”

“No, although I miss my father. I wish…”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’ll see him again, I promise.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. You’ll just have to trust me.”

“I do.”

He gazed into her eyes, and his love for her drove everything else from his mind. He was here, in this place, with the woman he loved, and he needed nothing else, only time. And as he bent his head to kiss her, he prayed that the
Maiyun,
those mysterious powers that counseled the affairs of men, might grant him a long life with his woman.

He rose early the following morning and went to the river to bathe. The water was cold and invigorating, and he swam briskly for about ten minutes before he climbed out of the water and stood on the shore. Lifting his arms above his head, he offered a morning prayer to
Heammawihio,
thanking Him for a new day, for Elayna, for health and strength, for life itself. Back in L.A. he had never felt the need for prayer, but here, in the land of his ancestors, praying was as natural as breathing.

Elayna had breakfast waiting when he returned to the lodge and they shared a quiet meal. Michael reached out often to caress her cheek or touch her hair, unconsciously reassuring himself that she was there, that it was all real and not just a dream.

After breakfast they went outside to sit in the sun. Elayna was working on a pair of moccasins, her brow furrowed in concentration as she sewed the sole to the heel; Michael sat beside her, sharpening the head of his lance on a whetstone.

Shortly before noon Michael left to visit Yellow Spotted Wolf. Minutes later Sunflower Woman stopped by to see Elayna. They were discussing Sunflower Woman’s pregnancy when Red Shield stepped out of his lodge and announced that his eldest daughter had become a woman. To celebrate, he was giving a horse away.

Elayna looked at Sunflower Woman, her expression somewhat stunned. “Do fathers always make such a big to-do about…about…” She blushed. “You know.”

Sunflower Woman nodded. “His daughter, Pretty Flower, will be of marriageable age soon and able to bear children to increase our tribe. It is an important day for his family, and for our people.”

“But to tell everyone…” Elayna shook her head.

“Is it not the same with your people?” Sunflower Woman asked.

“It’s very different,” Elayna explained. “Among my people, such things are not discussed. To tell others is unthinkable.”

Sunflower Woman frowned. “The whites are very strange indeed. Red Shield is proud of his daughter, pleased that she is about to be a woman.”

Sunflower Woman cleared her throat. “There is something I think we must discuss,” she began slowly. “Has Ho-nehe spoke to you of the Moon Lodge?”

“Moon Lodge?”

Sunflower Woman nodded. “Among our people, there are certain taboos against women when the time of women is upon them. Pretty Flower will be expected to stay in the Moon Lodge for four days. She must not touch any weapons or eat boiled meat. And she must be purified before she returns to her father’s lodge.”

“Are all young girls expected to do this?”

“Yes,” Sunflower Woman said. “And married women as well.”

“But why?”

“It is the custom. Her brothers will not eat or drink from any dish she has used lest they be injured in the next battle.”

Elayna bit back the urge to laugh at such superstitious nonsense, knowing her laughter would offend Sunflower Woman.

“Will I be expected to go to the Moon Lodge too?”

“Yes.”

“But I don’t possess any evil magic that will cause Michael harm,” she protested.

“It is the way of our people,” Sunflower Woman repeated. “And it is not so bad in the Moon Lodge. It is a time to rest, to catch up on mending, and to visit with other women.”

“I’ll do it,” Elayna agreed grudgingly. “But I won’t like it.”

The Fox Soldiers were giving a dance and everyone had been invited. Elayna sat on the women’s side of the circle between Sunflower Woman and Hemene, her eyes drawn to where Michael sat across the way. The night was warm and he wore only a brief wolfskin clout and beaded moccasins, moccasins she had made for him, she thought proudly. His skin glistened in the firelight as he danced with the men. She glanced at the black wolfskin clout that had been a gift from Yellow Spotted Wolf and wondered idly who had tanned the hide. There were strict taboos against women tanning certain skins, such as that of the bear, the beaver, the wolf, and the coyote. Sometimes such hides were tanned by captive women; occasionally by men. Women believed that if they tanned bearskins, the soles of their feet would crack and hair would grow on their faces.

Later, during a lull in the dancing, she asked Michael about the wolfskin, and he told her there was a certain women’s society that participated in special ceremonies to remove the ancient taboos. Hemene was one of those women, and she had tanned the skin. The Cheyenne women believed that any female who dressed a wolf hide without observing the sacred ceremonies would become palsied.

“Do you believe such things?” Elayna asked, laughing softly. “Do they? You don’t really believe I’d start to grow hair on my face if I tanned a bear skin?”

“It doesn’t matter what I believe,” Michael hedged. “The women believe it. Look.” He pointed at the warrior who was stepping into the dance circle.

“Who’s he?”

“Hohkeeke. He’s going to do the hoop dance.”

“Hoop dance?”

“Watch.”

The drummers started drumming, and the warrior began to dance. He was beautiful to watch. His breechclout and neck cloth were beaded with bright designs, he wore a crest of dyed horsehair on his head. His body was painted with geometric patterns. But it was his dancing that was truly breathtaking as he maneuvered his head, body, arms, and legs in and out and over and under two hoops, then four, then six, then eight, and with the addition of each new hoop the drumming grew faster and faster. The hoops were made of willow, adorned with bits of feather fluff in a variety of colors. Each maneuver created a different pattern, each more beautiful and more complicated than the last.

“He’s remarkable,” Elayna murmured as the warrior finished his dance and left the circle, but before Michael could reply, the singers began to sing and a man stepped into the center of the dance lodge and began dancing alone. He carried a stick in his hand and waved it back and forth over his head as he danced. After a few minutes he tossed the stick into the air and shouted, “There goes my wife! I throw her away!”

Elayna tugged on Michael’s arm, certain she had misunderstood the man’s words. “What’s happening?”

“Heovenako has just divorced his wife.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Elayna stared at Michael, speechless.

“It’s a disgrace for the woman to be cast aside in such a manner,” Michael said, “but I’ve heard some of the warriors talking. They say she’s grown argumentative and lazy, that she refuses to cook for Heovenako. He’s a well-known and respected warrior. It shames him to have a wife who does not honor him.”

“But to humiliate her in public,” Elayna protested. “It seems so unfair.”

Michael shrugged, but Elayna could not help feeling sorry for the plump Indian woman who even now was walking out of the dance lodge, her face hidden within the folds of the blanket over her head.

“Come on,” Michael said, taking Elayna’s hand. “Let’s go outside.”

The night was cool and quiet after the warmth and noise of the dance lodge. Hand in hand, they walked down to the river and stood looking out over the still water. The sickle moon cast dappled silver shadows on the dark face of the Platte, and as he stood there, Michael felt a sense of peace, a sense of being home. The low beat of the drum could be heard from the dance lodge, and from the distance came the lonely sound of a coyote wailing at the moon.

He studied the profile of the woman beside him. She had been troubled by the scene in the dance lodge; her sympathy for the wife of Heovenako was evident in her eyes.

If Elayna were his wife, he would never throw her away, no matter what she did. If she were his wife…if only he could marry her. He’d been wrong to bring her here. No matter if he stayed in the past a year or a lifetime, he had been wrong to bring her here. There was only trouble and heartache waiting for his people. This year, these last few months before the Custer battle, were the beginning of the end for his people. He should take her back to her father now, before it was too late, back where she belonged…but he could not part with her. They were both in places where they didn’t belong, he thought wryly. She was among alien people, and he was caught in a time that was not his. And he had never been happier. He murmured her name as he drew her into the circle of his arms, and she came willingly, her face lifting for his kiss, her body pressing against his, her sweet curves and full breasts a perfect complement to his lean, hard-muscled frame. Her eyelids fluttered down as he kissed her, and he was overcome with a searing need to possess her, to taste and touch each inch of honeyed flesh, to make her his woman, for this moment and all eternity.

The grass was cool and damp against his heated flesh as he lowered her to the ground and quickly stripped away his clout. His eyes were filled with promise, his hands swift and urgent he unfastened the ties on her dress and slid the soft buckskin over her shoulders. He shuddered with pleasure as her hands caressed him, stoking the fires of desire. He unbraided her hair, letting his fingers trail through the silken strands, and then he kissed her, drinking deeply of her sweetness, his senses reeling as her nearness filled every need. He drew a deep breath, and her scent surrounded him; he touched her, lightly stroking her breasts, and felt the heat of it fan the fire in his loins.

He gathered her into his arms and then he kissed her again, his tongue delving into her mouth, exploring the silken recesses, savoring the velvet of her tongue against his. He stroked her hips, her thighs, the smooth satin of her back and breasts, and each touch, each caress, branded her his woman for now and for always…