Eye of Flame (3 page)

“More than you can.”

“You teach him Wasichu foolishness,” he said. “I have heard of you and have seen you in the town talking to white men. You think you will make them forget who you are, but you are wrong.”

“You have no right to speak to me that way.” I began to walk away, but he followed me.

“My father was a Wasichu, a trader,” Little Deer went on. “My mother is a Minneconjou. I lived with the Wasichu, I learned their speech and I can write my name and read some words. My mother returned here to her people when I was small. You wear the clothes of a Wasichu woman and stay with the Black Robe, but he tells me you are not his woman.”

“Priests have no women. And you should tell Whirlwind Chaser to return to school. White men rule here now. Learning their ways is all that can help you.”

“I have seen their ways. The Wasichus are mad. They hate the earth. A man cannot live that way.”

I said, “They are stronger than you.”

“You are only a foolish woman and know nothing. You teach our children to forget their fathers. You think you are a Wasichu, but to them you are only a silly woman they have deceived.”

“Why do you come here and speak to Father Morel?”

“He is foolish, but a good man. I tell him of troubles, of those who wish to see him. It is too bad he is not a braver man. He would beat your madness out of you.”

I strode away from Little Deer, refusing to look back, sure that I would see only scorn on his face. But when I glanced out my window, I saw that he was smiling as he rode away.

The children stayed away from school in the autumn. There were more soldiers in town and around the reservation and I discovered that few Indians had been seen at trading posts. I refused to worry. A young corporal I had met in town had visited me a few times, telling me of his home in Minnesota. Soon, I prayed, he would speak to me, and I could leave with him and forget the reservation.

Then Little Deer returned. I was sweeping dust from the porch, and directed him to the small room where Father Morel was reading. He shook his head. “It is you I wish to see.”

“About what? Are you people planning another uprising? You will die for it—there are many soldiers here.”

“The Christ has returned to us.”

I clutched my broom. “You are mad.”

“Two of our men have seen him. They traveled west to where the Fish Eaters—the Paiutes—live. The Christ appeared to them there. He is named Wovoka and he is not a white man as I have thought. He was killed by the Wasichus on the cross long ago, but now he has returned to save us.”

“That is blasphemy.”

“I hear it is true. He will give us back our land, he will raise all our dead and return our land to us. The Wasichus will be swept away.”

“No!” I shouted.

Little Deer was looking past me, as if seeing something else beyond. “I have heard,” he went on, “that Wovoka bears the scars of crucifixion. He has told us we must dance so that we are not forgotten when the resurrection takes place and the Wasichus disappear.”

“If you believe that, Little Deer, you will believe anything.”

“Listen to me!” Frightened, I stepped back. “A man named Eagle Wing Stretches told me he saw his dead father when he danced. I was dancing with him and in my mind I saw the sacred tree flower, I saw the hoop joined once again. I understood again nature’s circle in which we are the earth’s children, and are nourished by her until as old men we become like children again and return to the earth. Yet I knew that all I saw was in my thoughts, that my mind spoke to me, but I did not truly see. I danced until my feet were light, but I could not see. Eagle Wing Stretches was at my side and he gave a great cry and then fell to the ground as if dead. Later, he told me he had seen his father in the other world, and that his father had said they would soon be together.”

“But you saw nothing yourself.”

“But I have. I saw the other world when I was a boy.”

I leaned against my broom, looking away from his wild eyes.

“I saw it long ago, in the Moon of Falling Leaves. My friends were talking of the Wasichus and how we would drive them off when we were men. I grew sad and climbed up a mountain near our camp to be alone. In my heart, I believed that we would never drive off the Wasichus, for they were many and I knew their madness well—I learned it from my father and his friends. It was that mountain there I climbed.”

He pointed and I saw a small mountain on the horizon. “I was alone,” Little Deer continued. “Then I heard the sound of buffalo hooves and I looked down the mountain, but I saw no buffalo there. Above me, a great circle glowed, brighter than the yellow metal called gold.”

“No,” I said softly.

He looked at me and read my face. “You have seen it, too.”

“No,” I said after a few moments.

“You have. I see that you have. You can step through the circle, and yet you deny it. I looked through the circle, and saw the buffalo, and warriors riding at their side. I wanted to step through and join them, but fear held me back. Then the vision vanished.” He leaned forward and clutched my shoulders. “I will tell you what I think. There is another world near ours, where there are no Wasichus and my people are free. On that mountain, there is a pathway that leads to it. I will dance there, and I will find it again. I told my story to a medicine man named High Shirt and he says that we must dance on the mountain—he believes that I saw Wovoka’s vision.”

“You will find nothing.” But I remembered the circle, and the robed woman, and the woods that had replaced Montreal. I wanted to believe Little Deer.

“Come with me, Catherine. I have been sick since I first saw you—my mind cannot leave you even when I dance. Your heart is bitter and you bear the seeds of the Wasichu madness and I know that I should choose another, but it is you I want.”

I shrank from him, seeing myself in dirty hides inside a tepee as we pretended that our delusions were real. I would not tie my life to that of an ignorant half-breed. But before I could speak, he had left the porch, muttering, “I will wait,” and was on his horse.

On a cold night in December, I stared at Little Deer’s mountain from my window.

I was alone. Father Morel was with the Indians, trying again to tell them that their visions were false. The ghost dancing had spread and the soldiers would act soon.

Horses whinnied outside. Buttoning my dress, I hurried downstairs, wondering who could be visiting at this late hour. The door swung open; three dark shapes stood on the porch. I opened my mouth to scream and then saw that one of the men was Little Deer.

“Catherine, will you come with me now?” I managed to shake my head. “Then I must take you. I have little time.” Before I could move, he grabbed me; one of his companions bound my arms quickly and threw a buffalo robe over my shoulders. As I struggled, Little Deer dragged me outside.

He got on his horse behind me and we rode through the night. Snowflakes melted on my face. “You will be sorry for this,” I said. “Someone will come after me.”

“It will soon be snowing and there will be no tracks. And no one will follow an Indian woman who decided to run off and join her people.”

“You are not my people.” I pulled at my bonds. “Do you think this will make me care for you? I will only hate you more.”

“You will see the other world, and travel to it. There is little time left—I feel it.”

We rode on until we came to a small group of houses which were little more than tree branches slung together. We stopped and Little Deer murmured a few words to his companions before getting off his horse.

“High Shirt is here,” he said. “A little girl is sick. We will wait for him.” He helped me off the horse and I swung at him with my bound arms, striking him in the chest. He pulled out his knife and I thought he would kill me; instead, he cut the ropes, freeing my hands.

“You do not understand,” he said. “I wish only to have you with me when we pass into the next world. I thought if I came for you, you would understand. Sometimes one must show a woman these things or she will think you are only filled with words.” He sighed. “There is my horse. I will not force you to stay if your heart holds only hate for me.

I was about to leave. But before I could act, a cry came from the house nearest to us. Little Deer went to the entrance and I followed him. An old man came out and said, “The child is dead.”

I looked inside the hovel. A fire was burning on the dirt floor and I saw a man and woman huddled over a small body. The light flickered over the child’s face. It was White Cow Sees.

The best one was gone, the cleverest. She might have found her way out of this place. I wept bitterly. I do not know how long I stood there, weeping, before Little Deer led me away.

A few days after the death of White Cow Sees, we learned that the great chief Sitting Bull had been shot by soldiers. Little Deer had placed me in the keeping of one of his companions, Rattling Hawk. He lived with his wife, Red Eagle Woman, in a hovel not far from Little Deer’s mountain. I spent most of my days helping their three children search for firewood; I was still mourning White Cow Sees and felt unable to act. Often Rattling Hawk and Red Eagle Woman would dance with others and I would watch them whirl through the snow.

After the death of Sitting Bull, I was afraid that there would be an uprising. Instead, the Indians only danced more, as if Wovoka’s promise would be fulfilled. Little Deer withdrew to a sweat lodge with Rattling Hawk, and I did not see him for three days.

During this time, I began to see colored lights shine from the mountain, each light a spear thrown at heaven; the air around me would feel electric. But when daylight came, the lights would disappear. I had heard of magnetism while with the Lemaîtres. Little Deer had only mistaken natural forces for a sign; now he sat with men in an enclosure, pouring water over hot stones. I promised myself that I would tell him I wanted to go back to the mission.

But when Little Deer and High Shirt emerged from the lodge, they walked past me without a word and headed for the mountain. Little Deer was in a trance, his face gaunt from the days without food and his eyes already filled with visions. I went back to Rattling Hawk’s home to wait. I had to leave soon; I had seen soldiers from a distance the day before, and did not want to die with these people.

Little Deer came to me that afternoon. Before I could speak, he motioned for silence. His eyes stared past me and I shivered in my blanket, waiting.

“High Shirt said that the spirits would be with us today. We climbed up and waited by the place where I saw the other world. High Shirt sang a song of the sacred tree and then the tree was before us and we both saw it.”

“You thought you saw it,” I said. “One would see anything after days without food in a sweat lodge.”

He held up his hand, palm toward me. “We saw it inside the yellow circle. The circle grew larger and we saw four maidens near it dressed in fine dresses with eagle feathers on their brows, and with them four horses, one black, one chestnut, one white, and one gray, and on the horses four warriors painted with yellow streaks like lightning. Their tepees were around them in a circle and we saw their people, fat with good living and smiling as the maidens danced. Their chief came forward and I saw a yellow circle painted on his forehead. He lifted his arms, and then he spoke: ‘Bring your people here, for I see you are lean and have sad faces. Bring them here, for I see your people traveling a black road of misery. Bring them here, and they will dance with us, but it must be soon, for our medicine men say the circle will soon be gone.’ He spoke with our speech. Then the circle vanished, and High Shirt leaped up and we saw that the snow where the circle had been was melted. He ran to tell our people. I came to you.”

“So you will go and dance,” I said, “and wait for the world which will never come. I have seen—” He took my arm, but I would say no more. He released me.

“It was a true vision,” he said quietly. “It was not Wovoka’s vision, but it was a true one. The Black Robe told me that God is merciful, but I thought He was merciful only to Wasichus. Now I think that He has given us a road to a good world and has smiled upon us at last.”

“I am leaving, Little Deer. I will not freeze on that mountain with you or wait for the soldiers to kill me.”

“No, Catherine—you will come. You will see this world with me.” He led me to Rattling Hawk’s home.

He climbed up that evening. Rattling Hawk and his family came, and High Shirt brought fifteen people. The rest had chosen to stay behind. “Your own people do not believe you,” I said scornfully to Little Deer as we climbed. “See how few there are. The others will dance down there and wait for Wovoka to sweep away the white men. They are too lazy to climb up here.”

He glanced at me; there was pain in his eyes. I regretted my harsh words. It came to me that out of all the men I had known, only Little Deer had looked into my mind and seen me as I was. At that moment, I knew that I could have been happy with him in a different world.

We climbed until High Shirt told us to stop. Two of the women built a fire and I sat near it as the others danced around us.

“Dance with us, Catherine,” said Little Deer. I shook my head and he danced near me, feet pounding the ground, arms churning at his sides. I wondered how long they would dance, waiting for the vision. Little Deer seemed transformed; he was a chief, leading his people. My foot tapped as he danced. He had seen me as I was, but I had not truly seen him; I had looked at him with the eyes of a white woman, and my mind had clothed him in white words—“half-breed,” “illiterate,” “Insane,” “
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