Holding on to Heaven (13 page)

Again, he thought only of her. "Are you hurt?"

"Well, I was, yes." She sniffled. "But I seem to be doing better now." Her own voice sounded small. "Is this all there is to this mating thing?"

He smiled down at her. "No, my love, there is more, so much more. Soon you will ask me to teach you everything I know."

She couldn't imagine that right now. "I will?"

"Trust me." He began to move inside her.

She came alive under his skillful lovemaking, surrendered to the release her body craved. The sweetest ecstasy awaited her, hung suspended just outside her grasp. She rocked her hips into his and allowed the powerful release to crash through her.

She held her breath through the waves of pleasure, releasing it long seconds later with words she couldn't stop. "Teach me everything you know, my brave dark warrior."

* * * *

Sage notched the days of the calendar on Peter Pa's walking stick. She missed him and Grandmother terribly, but her destiny lay here now, with the People, with her husband. The humid days of summer passed and the Moon of the Falling Leaves arrived on a chill wind. Men and women strained beneath their daily tasks of readying for winter. Sage prepared for the birth of her first child.

With her legs folded beneath her, Sage sat beside Otter Woman, outside the woman's lodge, constructing snowshoes. She handed her mother-in-law a lengthy string of sinew with a smile. "You would do best to put down the snowshoe and make a cradleboard."

Otter Woman's fingers ceased their frantic motion and her round eyes grew wider. "When do you bring this joy into my life?"

"February."

The woman lifted her face to the grey sky. "It is a sign of good fortune."

Twelve inches of snow blanketed the ground in December. The Winnebago put it to good use by packing it around the lodges outside. By mid-January, wood for the fires grew scarce and the supply of buffalo and horse chips dwindled. Every able-bodied person spent the daylight hours scrounging for twigs, small branches, and animal dung to keep warm.

Accompanied by the best hunters of the tribe, Wanapaya left for days searching for meat to feed the People. With two months remaining of the brutal winter, Sage had too much time on her hands to fret about bringing a child into the world under such elemental conditions.

The February winds blew in like the mighty breath of a dragon. Her husband's expert tracking skills were needed more now than ever. These days, he seldom slept in their lodge, but tonight he ducked under the flap, wet, cold and hungry, yet drew her into his embrace, kissing away her fears.

After the meal, Sage joined her husband on a layer of pine boughs and animal skins and snuggled into the warmth of his body. "My time is near." She pulled back a length of his long hair and looked into his eyes seeking strength. "You should stay close to the village now when you hunt."

He bolted upright, his eyes searching hers.

"I said it was near, not imminent."

His brow furrowed.

"Imminent means right now."

His body relaxed. "I will do as you ask." He ran his hand over her distended belly. "I am anxious to see the face of my son."

She pinched him playfully. "A son? Have the spirits brought news I carry a son?"

"He appeared in my dream. I have seen his face."

"Tell me, husband, does he have your eyes or mine?"

"My dream was cloudy." Again, his brows met. "I saw the delicate features of a woman and the strong body of a warrior."

"Hmm." She released her breath in a steady stream. "I wonder what it means."

He slapped a hand to his forehead. "No, the spirits are not angry with me."

"You are making little sense."

"Maybe I have seen a child like Wears-A-Dress."

"A man who warms the blankets of other men?" In spite of his somber tone, she laughed.

"What is so funny?" He scowled. "It happens in every village."

"Yes, and it has already happened in yours." She placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him to the ground. "This is not the reason you saw the face of a woman and the body of a man."

A sigh left his lips and soon light snores echoed in the lodge.

She smiled. Her girth doubled in the last four weeks, hindering every movement. She gave it little thought at first, but now, reflecting on Wanapaya's vision, the fog cleared. "Dream in peace, my strong warrior," she whispered against his cheek. "You'll need your strength."

* * * *

Borne on a strong wind that snaked through the jack pines, Sage's labor arrived hard and fast. Otter Woman and the ancient sage, Crooked Back, assisted at the birth. The boy emerged first, followed by his sister ten minutes later. She wanted Wanapaya to witness their arrival, but Crooked Back forbade it.

"We are a superstitious People." The old woman smiled. "The man who brought you this pain must wait outside lodge."

Crooked Back sent for Wanapaya the moment the infants arrived. "You have been blessed two times this day." The ancient sage handed him his son.

Otter Woman placed the girl in his arms. He peeled back the pelts, looked her over like an alert raptor would his nestlings, and did the same with his son. Confident they arrived without harm, he wrapped them up, raised his head to the sky and thanked the four winds for the wondrous gifts.

"Your woman waits." Crooked Back led him toward Sage.

Her face was still hot, her long hair damp when he knelt beside her. In a state of euphoria after the birth, the look of love in his eyes pushed her over the edge.

"You cry?" He took her hand in his. "You still have pain?"

Weak fingers stroked his cheek. "No, they are tears of joy."

He held his fingers up. "We have been twice blessed this day."

Her voice still hoarse, she struggled to speak. "Little wonder; I was bigger than the moose wandering the woods."

After planting a kiss to her cheek, he pulled back, his handsome face thoughtful. "What will we name them?"

"I’ll leave you to name our son, but I've chosen for our daughter." She watched his eyes. "Her name shall be Mataya,
One Sent From Above
."

"It is a fitting name for one as beautiful as her mother."

"And for our son?"

"It is a great honor to name him after his grandfather. He will be called Comes-With-The-Storm."

She wrinkled her nose. "Such a big name for one so small."

"A person has many names during their lifetime. For now, we will call him Storm."

She rolled the names off her tongue. "Mataya and Storm." Her eyes drooped and it took great effort to speak the words. "When they are strong enough to travel, we must take them to Grandmother and Peter Pa. She has waited a long time to see the face of her great-grandchild."

"Great-
grandchildren
," he said, smiling again. "When the snow leaves, we will make the journey." His long bronze fingers stroked her hand, lulling her to sleep. "You have earned the promise and the journey."

In the recesses of her mind, Crooked Back's voice drifted toward her. "Go now, shoo. Your woman needs rest."

Otter Woman placed a hand on his shoulder. "You should rest too."

"I am too happy to chase dreams. I will dance around the great circle of life and give thanks to the spirits in the sky."

Sage sent her own thanks toward heaven before seeking the sleep her body so desperately needed.

Chapter Eight

Nothing could have prepared Sage for the misfortune that befell the village. In the Moon of the Budding Trees, the People became violently ill. Not even her vast knowledge of the healing herbs could help them.

Small pox had come to the Winnebago.

She recognized the symptoms—fever, pain in the back, itching of the nose, and terrors while sleeping. After the initial onset, a pricking over the entire body set in. An inflamed red flush of the face and a dreadful discomfort ensued before the eruption of the pox. When breathing became troubled, death came swiftly and without mercy.

Sage witnessed its destruction as a child, saw it converge upon an entire section of the city. The scourge indiscriminately wiped out entire families, often passing over nearby neighbors. She knew as she went from lodge to lodge, the black cloak of death nipped at her heels. Graves were dug quicker than the next row could be tilled, lodges burned to the ground before her eyes, leaving only the charred bones of its former occupants.

Accompanied by the ancient healer, Crooked Back, Sage administered every cure and remedy she knew in an attempt to save the People. And failed miserably.

"The elders and infants will die quickly; the strong men and women will linger," Crooked Back said.

Older than the mountains, Crooked Back couldn't remember how many summers had passed since she entered the world. Born with a severe deformity of her spine, she remembered little about her childhood. Her kind face, canvassed with deep furrows and speckled with pox, leaned permanently toward the ground. The woman had never married, had dedicated her life to healing the People. She worked tirelessly beside Sage now, dispensing her knowledge, administering the herbs and praying over the dead.

"We must be able to save them," Sage wailed. "We can't sit by and watch them die!"

"I lived through the disease as a child when many were taken," the old woman said. "It is the way of the pox."

Frustration and anger companioned Sage as she left Black Wing's lodge and sought out her husband. "You must ride to the cabin and return with Grandmother. She may know something we do not."

"You would try to save the whole world given the chance." He wiped the tears from her face with a brush of his fingers. "I will ride hard and fast."

An ominous black cloud shrouded the village two evenings later when Wanapaya rode in with Grandmother and Peter Pa. Unbidden tears fell from Sage's eyes as Grandmother climbed from the buckboard and drew her into her arms.

"I came to help." Peter Pa joined the embrace. "Tell me what to do."

Sage's voice broke on a sob. "The traders brought small pox into the village."

Evrasina patted her tear-stained cheek. "I’ll do what I can for the poor souls, but for them, the white man's disease is deadly." She turned to Wanapaya. "How is it you have not been afflicted?"

"Like Crooked Back, I survived the disease as a child."

"And my great-grandchildren?" Evrasina visibly held her breath.

"They have not become sick, although many around them have died." Sage searched her grandmother's face. "Will I lose them too?"

"Are you still breastfeeding?"

Sage nodded.

"Perhaps they are immune through your blood and the breast milk."

The healers worked frantically to save the People. The strong and healthy escaped death, but would bear the lasting scars of the disease for life. Names of loved ones fell from their lips as one-by-one they journeyed into the other world. Since arriving in the village, Sage had ministered to their comfort, witnessed the birth of their children, and cried with them during their sorrows. Now she watched helplessly as over two hundred died writhing in agony.

Fourteen days passed before the worst of the disease ran its course. Only a scattered few came down with symptoms now. While feeding the twins, her grandmother ducked beneath the flap.

Sage looked up and frowned. "Grandmother, you must rest. Your face is redder than apples."

Evrasina waved her off her comment and settled onto the ground with a heavy sigh.

Sage placed the twins in the cradleboards and knelt beside her. "I go alone to the lodges tonight while you rest."

"I must help you, child."

Alarmed by her strained voice, Sage took a firm tone. "No, you will stay here so you are strong tomorrow." Her voice softened. "I’ll need your help more then."

Grandmother nodded. "I’ll rest for an hour or two and find you."

Sage eased her Grandmother to the ground with a gentle hand and pulled the furs up to her chin. She brushed her lips across Grandmother's forehead, rose and walked from the lodge. A nagging foreboding clung to her as she went from lodge to lodge. Had Grandmother felt feverish when she kissed her or was her imagination working overtime? Pushing the dismal thought from her mind, she entered Black Wing's lodge and took the sick child from her mother.

Night descended and the soothing drone of crickets filtered through the walls of the lodge, lulling Sage into a dreamlike state. She glanced at the infant's parents by the fire. Too sick to care for their daughter, they huddled beneath blankets and occasionally lifted their sweaty brows to look in her direction. Steamed heat emanated from every corner and aided the babe's breathing, but wreaked havoc with hers.

She jumped when Wanapaya tapped her on the shoulder and motioned her to follow him. Placing the child under the blankets with her parents, she walked outside.

He spoke the words and she felt the blood drain from her face. "Your grandmother is very ill. She calls for you."

Sage clapped her hands over her ears. She'd seen so much death, cradled so many dying babies, she couldn't bear to see another loved one die. The world crashed down around her while she ran through the village. She stumbled time and again, only to rise and push blindly onward.

Throwing back the flap of the lodge, she rushed to her grandmother's still form and dropped to her knees. Tiny blue veins punctuated her thin, translucent hands. They felt warm and clammy in hers.

Blinking back tears, Sage choked on the words. "Grandmother, it's me. Can you hear me?"

Peter Pa sat opposite Sage, his legs tucked beneath him. He lifted his head and stared into Sage's eyes. Even in the dim light of the lodge, the ugly truth marched forth. Her grandmother courted death.

Sage put her palm to Grandmother's forehead and withdrew it quickly. Tossing back the furs, she tore open her cotton shift and scanned her neck and torso. "No-o-o!"

The familiar rash¾the one she loathed¾covered her grandmother's hot flesh. She pummeled her fists into the ground and choked on her sobs. "Please do not leave us! There's much to be done yet!" Cupping her grandmother's face between her hands, she pleaded. "Please do not give up, you must fight!"